#sexualizing that old man again and forever

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Andy working with Coldplay on their music video for "Adventure of a Lifetime"

[phagodyke]

everyone say thank u to my roommate for going to visit her parents this weekend so I can jack it loud and nasty 🙏

[poisonf0rest]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files. 

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request. 

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :( 

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further. 

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again. 

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for. 

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now. 

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line. 

You groan  as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor. 

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent. 

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case? 

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat. 

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings. 

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

 “What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered. 

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either. 

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers. 

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain. 

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling. 

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside. 

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table. 

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content. 

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way. 

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth. 

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s. 

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever. 

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth. 

If that were all, then everything would be perfect. 

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own. 

But of course, the plot has to thicken. 

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all. 

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming. 

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone. 

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture. 

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?” 

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows. 

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t. 

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected. 

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked. 

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes. 

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.” 

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him. 

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself. 

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you. 

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck. 

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone. 

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you. 

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue. 

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next. 

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are." 

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.” 

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin. 

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm. 

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop. 

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive. 

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser. 

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion. 

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?" 

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you. 

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers. 

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase. 

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own. 

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit. 

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. 

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly. 

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force. 

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor. 

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.” 

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth. 

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

 “That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob. 

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest. 

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls. 

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it. 

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.” 

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you. 

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine. 

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@gutsby

⭒ Wedded Bliss

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

@samthemarvelfan

⭒ Bad Romance

In Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his.

@anonymityisfunwriter

⭒ Two Sides of the Same Coin

⭒ You're Losing Me

Your fairytale ending is crumbling before your eyes. You don't know how to love someone who can't tell you're dying. You fear you're fading away, begging him to do someone, say something, choose something. You fear he won't be able to resuscitate you this time. This time, he's losing you.

⭒ Alone Together

It was always been you and Bucky, alone together, you'd say. But suddenly, you're just alone.

⭒ Uptown Girl and the Brooklyn Boy

Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

@pellucid-constellations

⭒ For the Love of the Game

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

@barnesafterglow

⭒ Friday (I'm In Love)

every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too

@sinner-as-saint

⭒ Tempestuous

With his kingdom flourishing in peace, and no threats from enemies; recently crowned King - James Buchanan Barnes sets out at sea. With his finest ship, the best crew ever recruited, and a deep desire to see whether the edge of the world truly exists; the King sets sail. Hoping to find the marvels of the ocean, to find beauty and magic even; however he ends up finding a fiery soul – one he cannot get enough of. But then again, no love story is ever perfect, is it? 

⭒ Ruin

You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you. 

⭒ A Sweeter Place

Years after a messy break-up, and now seeking stability, infamous mob boss James Buchanan Barnes finds himself reunited with an old flame of his. Instant guilt and regret wash over him when he finds out that his reckless ways back then, changed an innocent girl’s life forever. 

⭒ You're No Saint

Steve and Bucky have been friends since they were young boys. They are inseparable, so naturally when you married Steve you were aware that Bucky came along with him. Every event, every vacation, even as the best man at your wedding - Bucky was always there, alongside you and Steve. He was one of your best friends as well, so you’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, ever. That is until one certain night, when you see something you’re not supposed to and you like it a little too much. You deny your desire towards Bucky, but Steve knows you better than anyone. He knows what you want and need, and he’s determined to fulfil your fantasy; because what his wife wants, she gets. 

⭒ Run For Your Life

He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

⭒ All Yours

One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting... 

@mellowsaturns  

⭒ In Losing Grip, on Sinking Ships

when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

⭒ All to Myself

after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him

@renxzs

⭒ Redemancy

Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

@cryptidcasanova

⭒ My Devotion

The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.

⭒ Loverboy

It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

@subwaysurf45

⭒ She's Not Mad

Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

@adrinktostopyourthirst

⭒ Sniper

Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

⭒ Three Hundred

Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?

⭒ Variant

The chaos of the multiverse is quite literally holding up a mirror to Bucky. Turns out, it's very easy to get under someone's skin when you have a universal connection to them.

⭒ Underground

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

⭒ One Shot

Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

⭒ Satisfied

Drunk sex with Bucky.

@thenhewaswrongaboutme

⭒ Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger.

⭒ Time Out

Need me a boy who is so needy and whiny when he cums inside for who knows how many times, and yet he still begs as soon as he's done "please, please again? I'll be good, I-I swear, I just need it so bad, just one more baby I promise–"

@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

⭒ After All This Time

impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.

⭒ Why Are You At The Wake?

Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.

⭒ The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me

A hurtful article in a low-budget gossip magazine throws your relationship with Bucky for a loop.

⭒ I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home

Bucky doesn't talk to you anymore, and he's less than enthusiastic when he runs into you out of the blue. But when he calls from a strange phone number, the puzzle pieces fall together.

@noceurous

⭒ Get You Back

You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.

@violentdelightsandviolentends

⭒ Honey Girl

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

@notafunkiller

⭒ You Were Just Mine Yesterday

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

⭒ Out Of Style

A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

@queers-gambit

⭒ Curiousity Killed The Cat

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

@cherryblossom-heart

⭒ I Loved You Once

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

@rookthorne

⭒ Purity

Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried - the wings of a dove taking you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.

⭒ His Girls

Cars were all the same to you — classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same. Well, they were, until you were nonetheless forced to visit your local mechanic and saw the man that would pique your interest in not only every single make and model of classic car, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.

⭒ Hollywood Boulevard

All it took was one night, one song - hell, one note - and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn't help but follow him anyway - he was irresistible, after all.

@boxofbonesfic

⭒ You're Gonna Give Me Six

@gogolucky13

⭒ Mean It

You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

@intrepidacious

⭒ Almost Believing

You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

@buckybarnesdiaries

⭒ Please

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

@buckys-darling

⭒ Face The Sun

To ensure the prosperity of their two kingdoms, a determined Princess and reluctant King are to be wed. She is willing to commit, but he can’t seem to let his lover go. 

⭒ Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.

⭒ Electric

Flirtation has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn't last long when it comes to you.

@straywords

⭒ Kiss It Better

You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.

@little-miss-dilf-lover

⭒ Fifteen Minutes

@bucksfucks

⭒ The Feeling's Mutual

the amount of times you and bucky have seen each other masturbating is alarmingly high. might as well do it together.

@ellemj

⭒ Bigger Than He Was

Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

⭒ Strawberries

Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

⭒ Breathe

Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.

⭒ Flustered | part 2

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

⭒ Inevitable

While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.

⭒ Blurred Lines

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

⭒ Does It Hurt?

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

@viixenvi

⭒ Red

You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.

@ro-is-struggling

⭒ Self Care

Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

@kinanabinks

⭒ Silent Girl

After a traumatizing event, you aren’t the friendliest or most talkative of people. Bucky understands, and in turn becomes the one person you soften your hard exterior for.

⭒ Special Girl

Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.

@angrythingstarlight

⭒ Roommate Bucky

@wkemeup

⭒ Cold, Cold Water

While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive.

⭒ Drunk On You

Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?

⭒ Honey and Chamomile

Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart.

⭒ Suburbia

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

⭒ Eclipse

When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. 

⭒ Back to Bourbon Street

When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough. 

@espinosaurusrexex

⭒ Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

@navybrat817

⭒ Reconnect

Bucky Barnes is your best friend. You're also in love with him. After his recent breakup, the two of you get a chance to reconnect during a weeklong vacation together. Is it long enough to get your happy ending?

@dyspneagrime (wattpad & ao3)

⭒ No Privacy

You're stuck on a mission that never seems to end, in a completely destroyed studio apartment, with absolutely no privacy. And no privacy means- you haven't cum the whole time. Thing is, neither has the ancient, half-cyborg, psychopathic, hobo-lookin' asshole that you've been partnered up with.

⭒ Little Wing

The year is 1973. All Dove Rogers wanted was a relaxing summer. Just one last hoorah before being thrust into the adult life. Yet everything shifts when her new houseguest and long standing enemy- Bucky Barnes, arrives. In the thick of sun-kissed relaxation, the two of them are forced to face the awakening and burning desire growing between them.

⭒ Possessed

Margaret Everlee is a meek little thing. Living her life as a struggling artist in New York, trying to find her place in the world. That is until the formidable CEO with a dark past, James Barnes sets his sights on her. His infatuation is instantaneous, becoming a man obsessed with making her his own little doll.

@stardustdreams-andcaffeine

⭒ The Thin Line

Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.

@buckybabesonly

⭒ Wanna Be Yours

You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.

@lovelybucky1

⭒ Flirting and Football

@kurogxrix

⭒ Drunkenly In Love

you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.

@stxrvel

⭒ Hate Is A Strong Word

you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

@kikixreverie

⭒ Its Called: Freefall

Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

@brunchable

⭒ I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

@thyme-in-a-bubble

⭒ Just For Tonight

before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

@aquaticmercy

⭒ Sleeper

When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts.

⭒ My Own Soul's Warning

You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

@skaye44

⭒ Coffee Companion

You and your friend Bucky enjoy going for coffee dates as friends. Bucky sees the names and numbers of two flirty baristas on your cups. He's jealous and wants to be the one you date, so he takes matters into his own hands.

@ultralightpoe

⭒ Juno

[fuckmeyer]

the choice between Edward & Jacob is not a question of which relationship is healthier or which partner is best suitable for Bella. neither is correct. neither is best. neither produces a happy ending for Bella. at the end of the day this is still a vampire novel. any choice Bella could make would yield, at best, a bittersweet happily ever after.

if she chooses Edward, she gets the terrifying Breaking Dawn ending: a girl who rejected her call to grow up has hung her love & her eternity on an emotionally stunted partner who hates himself marginally less than he loves her. she's a teen mom with a kid she never wanted who perpetuates the generational trauma passed down from her parents. by keeping this child, the Cullens have set the stage for an uprising/cold war against the Volturi who are likely to take revenge in order to maintain power. Bella is living in a tenuous "dream come true" wrapped in a nightmare & doesn't realize it.

choosing Jacob is the true coming-of-age ending that rips the stitches out of a wound that never fully healed. even if we ignore the fact that she ends up with a man who sexually assaulted her (we must bear in mind Jacob's character is influenced by smeyer's racism, but it did happen), they can't have a secure romantic relationship. based on the high imprinting rate of the pack, Jacob will likely find his imprint in his lifetime & will lose himself to the imprintee. he will no longer be her Jacob. he will inevitably abandon her (whether he wants to or not), & she must reconcile with the reality that she will always be inadequate to Jacob's imprint. & say he never manages to escape the vampires? he will presumably not age for a long time, meaning the relationship Bella always feared with Edward (her being an old grandmother while he stays forever young) remains a possibility. this is the story of a girl who slaps a Band Aid on an open wound & calls herself healed while flinching every time she sees the shadow of the knife that cut her.

if she chooses neither (team therapy), her healing requires her to lose or be at least partially disconnected from everyone she cares about. Bella must spend the rest of her life shut out from one world while never fully existing in her human world ever again. she must always keep secrets. she can never go back home. even in the unlikely event that she manages to escape the Volturi, the threat of being hunted by vampires will never leave her. in addition, she must face her worst fears (aging, losing Edward) while always keeping in mind the immortal life that could have been hers, if only.

even the "healthiest" option produces scars that will never quite heal.

Twilight is a horror. Twilight is a vampire novel. Twilight is gothic. Twilight is fiction. neither Edward nor Jacob is a "bad" choice because neither will give Bella her happily ever after. the choice between Edward & Jacob is simply a matter of which horror story you prefer to read.

[navybrat817]

Anything special for Bucky's birthday?

Something small, nonnie.

For Years or for Hours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is the love of your life and deserves to have a peaceful birthday.

Word Count: Almost 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, being in love, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I wanted to do something more, but today got away from me. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun had just risen outside of Bucky’s hut in Wakanda, the rays peeking in and beckoning you to wake up and venture out into the world. You weren't ready to rise and meet the day quite yet. Not when Bucky was beside you, holding you in his sleep like you he’d lose you if he loosened his grip. You wouldn't dare disturb his slumber. Not when he more than anyone deserved to rest peacefully.

So you decided to count the freckles on his nose.

“My beautiful man,” you whispered, placing your left hand on his cheek. “Love of my life.”

The wedding band on your ring finger matched his in design, symbols of the never ending love you had for each other. Time stood still and moved all at once when you said “I do”, but forever didn’t start with your wedding day. It began the day you met. Every moment after that paved a path that entwined, neither of you having to walk alone again.

“One,” you whispered, kissing a freckle on the tip of his nose. You’d never get over the sight of him. “Two…”

You didn’t know Bucky had freckles until he was in your face during a training session, the definition of up close and personal. It was right before you shared your first kiss, which was ages ago and felt like yesterday. He rolled on top of you and pinned your arms above your head, his breathing heavy and eyes stormy as you gazed up at him. Instead of trying to break free of his strong hold, you went lax underneath him and smiled.

“Are you yielding?” He asked, releasing one of your wrists when you made no attempt to move.

“Wow. You have freckles,” you exhaled, brushing his soft brown hair back that fell in his eyes. “I never noticed them before.”

It was as if Bucky removed an invisible mask and allowed you to see his true self for the first time before he pressed his lips to yours. It sparked a flame inside of you that no one could ever put out. And if being in love with him taught you anything, it was that masks hid your true selves and built walls to keep others out. You helped each other knock them down.

He was your partner in every sense of the word.

“Mmm. Tickles,” he mumbled as you kept kissing his nose, his voice throaty and low as he opened his eyes. His broad torso rolled as he arched his back and you had to suppress a shiver when he groaned. “Were you counting my freckles again?”

“You caught me,” you whispered, pecking his nose once more and not embarrassed in the slightest. “I can’t help it. You’re so pretty.”

Amusement filled his eyes as he slid a palm down your ribs to your hip. “I thought you were the pretty one in this relationship, Mrs. Barnes.”

Your cheeks warmed at the reminder that you were his wife. “We can both be pretty, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tilting your head back so he could brush his scruff against your neck. You joked once that people called him the White Wolf because he liked to “scent” and leave his mark on you. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

“Why should I go back to sleep, hmm?” He asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss over your racing pulse. It was enough to make you whimper when you tried to find your words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You menace,” you moaned, tugging on his hair for good measure, which only made him let out that lustful groan you loved. “Because it’s your birthday and you deserve to sleep in, old man.”

His first birthday as a married man.

“And we won't say how old I am today,” he said, his hair falling in his eyes as he pulled back and smirked. “And I was kind of hoping I'd wake up with my cock in your mouth.”

“Bucky,” you breathed out, fighting the urge to laugh at his admission as the tingle between your thighs grew. Whatever thought was in your mind went away. It didn't matter. All you could imagine were his eyes staring down at you in wonder and ecstasy as you took him in your throat. “You know what? Fine. Your wish is my command.”

You’d please him with whichever hole he wanted to use.

“But I’m awake,” he teased, chuckling when you silenced him with your lips. He didn't let you pull away, feeling as if the hut tilted on its axis as he deepened the kiss you started. It was like your first kiss all over again. The promise of something more.

A lifetime together.

“Pretend you're asleep,” you suggested when you grudgingly pulled away from his sinful lips. “But if Steve and Sam ask, we woke up to watch the sun rise.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed when you smiled, your heart rate picking up. “Don't talk about those punks when you're about to go down on me,” he half growled.

“Yes, White Wolf,” you teased. They would no doubt message him birthday wishes, along with Natasha and a few others, once they were awake. He deserved all the love today and every day.

Before you could kiss down Bucky's body, he stopped you with a gentle grip. “Wait,” he whispered, his eyes searching your face. You didn't know a gaze could be so soft until he looked upon you. This was a man who knew your hopes, dreams, fears.

And loved you all the while.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked when he reached for your left hand.

“I just love you so much, doll,” he said, running his thumb over the ring as your eyes filled with tears. You blinked them away quickly enough to catch his tender smile. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

When you got home, you’d celebrate his special day in regular fashion. You’d take him to the new science exhibit that he mentioned wanting to see. The two of you would cuddle up to watch his favorite movie after dinner with the gang. He’d eat the cake you baked just for him. And there would be a present or two for him to open before you went to bed.

But the gift he wanted most was to have a day without a reminder of the fight. Where he could breathe in the air, take in the quiet, and feel a sense of peace with the person he loved beside him. You knew the only way to give him that was to get him out of the city and back to his hut. Even if it was only for a short time.

In his sanctuary, he’d find tranquility on his special day and you’d show him how much you loved him. Memories the two of you would carry for a lifetime. Because he gave you the world by asking you to be his and you’d spend forever making him happy. Just like he deserved.

“I love you, too, Bucky Barnes,” you promised, kissing the freckle again on the tip of his nose. “Happy birthday.”

Oh, Bucky. We love him. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cowboy-heart]

'interview with a butch' - a fake interview reflecting on butch-femme dynamics! inspired by the amazing piece by @llovely, which you can read here :)

(ID below read more)

[an original, interview-style poem called 'interview with a butch':

when did you know you were butch? I knew by the time I was sixteen, but that’s only when I found the word. I’ve been butch since the day I was born, at least since I was just a few months old and threw an earth-shattering tantrum whenever my mum tried to put me in a dress. (both laugh) your poor mum!

I remember being a little butch knight, chivalrous even before I was double digits. my best friend only lived up the road from school, but her parents were running late and she was scared to do it herself. so I walked her up the hill, her arm linked in mine, pride balancing on my chest. and when I got her to her door, I said that we should kiss like adults do when they say goodbye, and we took it in turns to kiss each other on each cheek. when I walked home I felt something the size of a boulder in my stomach, but I didn’t know what it meant yet, just that there was something about myself that set me apart.

how did you feel with your first femme? oh, man, even for a writer that’s hard to find the words for. (laugh) let’s put it this way: before I had my first femme, I always felt like something was missing in my relationships – not just in the relationship itself, but in me. I felt broken and wrong, unsatisfied and selfish. I thought that maybe I just had too high expectations or something. hell, even with sex I felt like something was missing, like I couldn’t find my own desire.

But then, then I had my first femme. How graphic can I be here? (laugh) as graphic as you want! okay, good!

watching my stomach hang over my harness, long nails in my hips, I felt like I had a second sexual awakening. I felt the most present in my body I’d ever been, and like I could be in them forever. I didn’t feel dissatisfied, or wrong. when their hand held mine and played with my fingers I felt lightning shoot through me. it was like realising I was a lesbian all over again. but even outside of romance, femmes are my friends, my family, my community. talking to femmes, being around femmes, I’ve never felt so seen and loved. I can handle every sharp look, every slur thrown my way, just because my armour was polished by femmes.

do you find your roles restrictive? they’re liberating. I think sometimes people see me and think that I had to fit into this constrictive box, that I disallowed myself to enjoy anything feminine. the reality is that for butches, we find the word we’ve been searching for our whole lives. I can’t even remember finding the word, isn’t that crazy? it felt second nature. it somehow perfectly described everything I’d ever felt, exposed me to a community of people who were just like me outside of my Tory town! (pause)

I think there’s a tendency even in leftist, LGBT spaces to think that masculinity is oppressive, and femininity is liberating and oppressed. but it’s really not like that. we’re punished for deviating from our assigned gender, whether you’re a masculine woman, or a feminine man, or something in between the two. I’ve had gay men try to convince me to let them do my makeup, I’ve had gay women tell me that they’re “so glad” I don’t have ‘toxic masculinity’ like “other butches”. femininity was a cage for me, something I had to imitate to survive the perils of high school, but it was never me. masculinity liberated me, and it’s not inherently toxic. I love to carry the bags, hold open the doors, cry in pride, protect those I love. and there’s nothing like coming home at the end of the day to a sweet femme, ready to rub my tired muscles. man, I’m not good at concise answers, am I? (both laugh) no, but I love it!

what do you think of people who see your relationship as heteronormative? they’re twats! (both laugh) now, that’s a concise answer! no, no that’s not fair. here’s what I’d say to them:

I see it as…a complex gender performance. no, that makes it sound like it’s play pretend. they’re complex gender…expressions, dynamics, play, desire, euphoria. a butch and a femme together is no more heterosexual than a bear and a twink, a top and a bottom. it’s a dance that we know in our bones, like we knew each other in a previous lifetime and we’re just falling back into our favoured rhythm. even every fumble and awkward gesture is a part of it. we fall into sync and into each other, we tenderise each other’s gender, affirm it, and love every minute of it. we’re not two sides of the same coin, you talk to any butch-femme couple and chances are our priori (edit: interviewee meant propositions) are the same but our conclusions are not; we’re the same side of the same coin, just one is the top of the tail and the other is the bottom of it. is that a euphemism? (laugh) take it as you will!

I’m no man, my femme is no woman, and I’m no less butch when I’m wearing a kiss-the-cook apron and cleaning their kitchen, and they’re no less femme when they’re putting together a shelf or driving me to work. To look at us and see a heteronormative imitation of cisgender predetermination is proof of their own lack of nuance – do you think all dogs are boys and all cats are girls, too? (both laugh)

I think in a lot of ways, butch-femme dynamics are inherently transsexual. or, in the very least, good friends of transgenderism. If you can’t see us for what we are then chances are you’ve got your own internalised gender biases to unlearn.

I’ve always been butch to my bones, but when I’m with my baby I’m on cloud nine. I feel desired, my gender revered and loved.

so, what you’re saying is, you feel seen? I do. we see each other and nurture each other. I’ve never really liked being called ‘beautiful’, but when it falls from the lips of a femme, I know that they’re not seeing me as feminine. I feel most comfortable to explore the depths of both my femininity and masculinity with them; I don’t feel restricted to a role.

maybe that’s what people are missing about it: our homes are temples of gender exploration and devotion.

end ID].

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Logan Howlett, the man you are. (Headcanons!!)

Minors, do not interact.

A/N: Y’all. I’ve been in a writing rut, but something about Logan- and Huge Jackedman, by extension- regaining his moment in the spotlight has gotten me back at it. Hugh was 1000% the reason I found out that I have a thing for dilfs, and let me tell you, I ain’t mad about it. To quote one author, who I can’t remember off the top of my head but wrote a KILLER breeding kink fic for Wolvie, “before there was Jensen Ackles, there was Hugh Jackman.” If you know me or my work, you know I’m a Jackles girl, but Hugh? Hugh will always get me going, whether he’s a ringleader, a robot shadow boxer, or otherwise.

TLDR I’m so in love with Hugh/Logan again. I always am, but I’m really on fire rn. Don’t worry, I will be continuing the 2SC series, but I needed this.

As always, all interaction, especially your words, is so very much appreciated!! I hope you like this one! Also, thank you for 120 followers! This account is maybe three months old, this is an insane milestone.

CW: it’s really just soft with a side of spice, the most flavorful being daddy/breeding.

-first of all, this man is a the biter.

-and it’s not always in a sexual sense

-he’ll just walk up to you and gently graze his teeth against your exposed shoulder or neck

-especially at night, after sex or not. He’ll be holding you close- you’re the little spoon ofc🎀- and just nibble on the juncture of your neck and shoulder while you cuddle into him

-honestly, it doesn’t hurt. And he only leaves marks if he wants to, ie when he’s balls deep inside of your little cunt OR wanting to remind the world who you belong to

-he’s just got a bit of an oral fixation is all

-speaking of which, he could be between your thighs for the rest of eternity and he’d be fine with it. He LOVES when you tug on his hair as he makes you squirm, only needing one strong hand to hold you down

-he goes feral when he sees you wearing his shirts

-loves to throw you over his shoulder and to play fight

-he’s interested in anything you’re interested in

-mans can’t cook to save his life but adores watching you and “helping”

-aka being all up in your business when you’re literally just trying to chop an onion

-he can be clingy. Not in a whiny way, in a playfully annoying way.

-will always find a way to make you late to anything. Sometimes it’s for the sake of a quickie, other times it’s because he wants one more kiss or to see the last five minutes of whatever show you guys watch together

-if you’re into daddy, he’s into daddy. Especially if you’re significantly younger than him

-he likes to squish you- your boobs, tummy, ass, wherever. He loves your body for what it is and loves you

-this man is so in love with you, by the way

-he’s old as hell but if you teach him how to text he’ll text you sporadically throughout the day. Sometimes it’s really blurry, almost impossible to decipher, pictures of things that remind him of you, other times it’s “When will you be home?” even though he’s already called you to ask four times. That’s mainly on his days off though- if he’s not doing something or you then he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

-that’s not to say he’s not always thinking of you. On missions, wherever, you’re the first thing in his mind. Give him a locket with a picture of the two of you and chances are he’ll wear it forever

-oh back to the other one he totally texts like an old man. If you try to use slang, or even just use “u,” you’ll confuse him so bad that he’ll think he’s in the future or that you’re speaking a different language. He also doesn’t like emojis, unfortunately 😞

-he’s got a sweet tooth. Loves to bake with you- he can’t cook but he can make a mean batch of snickerdoodles. No one knows why, and he’ll never offer any explanation.

-speaking of sweets that’s why he loves eating you out so much, because you taste so sweet to him

-and all of his nicknames are sweet based- sweetheart, sweets, sugar, etc- with the exception of darling which coming from him would put anyone on their knees immediately

-speaking of being on your knees he loves when you do it. Not as much as he loves eating you out, but he does enjoy a solid blow once in a while

-he’s a sucker for cockwarming, even if it’s barely sexual. Just as a way to be close. If you don’t mind him smoking he’ll smoke a cigar while you do so, and get into a nice soft headspace

-the kink of his that annoys him the most is breeding. He doesn’t want kids (unless you do, which is its own conversation. Personally I don’t so works for me haha) but when he’s balls deep, pushing you into the mating press, it doesn’t matter. Especially if you’re in a place where he can fuck you raw all the time- ie you take the pill, have had a hysterectomy, etc- then he will, and he will always spill his seed deep in you, mind filling with pictures of you all round and swollen and cute even if it’s impossible

-however it is hot when he gets in that headspace regardless of if kids are in the question or not

-hang on I thought of something else and then I forgot it

-uhh

-oh that’s it. Praise. Loves getting it, loves receiving it. If you’re more receptive to degradation he’ll give you that, but he loves telling you what a good girl you are

-also has a blast with brat taming

-anyways back to the soft stuff

-he loves domestic life. Curling up with you on the couch with fluffy blankets and snacks, watching rom coms and other cheesy movies

-he’ll rest his head in your lap if you’re drawing, crocheting, reading, etc

-he loves being petted. Your hands in his hair, tracing his muscles, whatever. It makes him so happy and it’s soothing for him

-and we all know how he’s mr gruff n tuff, right?? Well if he’s really eepy and lying on his lap while you stroke his hair, there’s an ever slight chance you can get him to purr. Don’t tease him about it, though, or he’ll get super self conscious

-if you like to workout he’ll work out with you

-he really likes to box to blow off steam, but if it’s with you and you’re not a fellow mutant it’s more play fighting than anything, but it’s still fun

-he’s a sucker for cheesy dates

-call him ‘Lo’ or ‘Wolvie,’ or any nickname that fits him. He thinks it’s adorable, and owns it. He also gives you like fifty nicknames of his own.

-he loves long walks on the beach if it’s accesible, hiking’s also fun to him

-he’ll never take his anger out on you, ever

-he loves reading with you, just sitting in comfortable silence with your respective books

-that’s all for now!!

If you have any ideas for ficlets or headcanons, my asks box is always open!! Xx

[watchmegetobsessed]

NOW AND FOREVER (part 2)

A/N: these two got stuck in my head and seemingly in yours as well, so lets see some more of them! part 1 is linked under the summary if you haven't read it!

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

PAIRING: princess!reader x guard!harry

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: To be eligible for the throne, you need to get married. The past few years have been dedicated to finding a king for you, but now that you're secretly dating your guard, these attempts are a bit more complicated than before.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that scene in The Princess Diaries when they are choosing a possible husband out of a slide show for Mia. You used to find it funny when you were younger and made jokes to your parents that you want to do it too. They laughed, but exchanged a look you didn’t understand back then. 

Now you do.

There are two requirements you need to meet to take the throne. The first one is to be at least 25 years old. That box has been ticked for three years now, the real problem is the second one. Because as outdated that law in the movies was, it is your reality. You have to be married, you can’t take the throne without a man. 

As a teenager you didn’t think much of it, because you pictured yourself to meet a handsome prince, marry him and then become queen, easy as it is. But as you grew older and dating was proven to be impossible as a princess, anxiety and panic started to set in that you’d end up in an arranged marriage just to become eligible for ruling Eroda. 

Then came Harry, you fell for him and he fell for you, but it just complicated things even more, because he is not from royal blood, not even close to being an aristocrat, therefore you can never marry him. 

For the past few years most of the social events you’ve attended had a not so hidden second purpose: finding a husband. 

Never ending rounds of introductions to single men, awkward chatting that ended up in asking you out on a date that you declined politely most of the time, followed by a sermon from your father about needing to settle soon, because he is not getting younger and you need to be eligible for the throne as soon as possible. You always tried your best to just ignore him, but ever since you and Harry have become an item secretly it’s been extremely hard to hold your tongue and not tell him that you have found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, but he can’t be king, because he is your guard. 

It’s such an impossible situation and you have no idea where it’s going to lead. 

Now it’s another one of those occasions, the opening of the Spring Festival is just another opportunity to fill up the palace’s ballroom with all kinds of single men from around the country and even outside as well. 

You know people are filling up the room already while you’re still in your suite. Your hair is done, makeup perfect, wearing a gown that costs probably way more than you feel comfortable with, but you’re never informed about how expensive your outfits are. 

You’ll be announced in about fifteen minutes, walk down the stairs for the millionth time and start your rounds. You’d rather jump out the window than to meet all those people, but you have no choice. 

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you call out and you see Harry step inside from the mirror. He is wearing his usual black suit, looking polished and threatening at the same time, but not to you. You see the man he is behind his thick walls, because there’s a door on that wall, just for you, wide open. 

The door clicks behind him and he watches you turn around, his gaze runs down the length of your body and then up to your face again. 

“Should I change?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“Do you want the honest or the brutally honest answer?”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you start to cross the room slowly, walking towards him while he remains standing in his spot.

“Both. The honest first.”

“You look stunning,” he replies, his eyes soft and loving. You stop just a few inches away from him.

“And the brutally honest one?”

There’s a short pause, you catch his eyes slip down to your chest and waist again before returning.

“I want to lock you in here and not let you close any men out there. I wish I could mark you mine.”

He knows how to turn you on within seconds with just a few words. He knows so well how much you like it when he gets possessive, ready to show it to the world that you belong to him and only him. 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and just when you reach up to grab him by his neck there’s another knock on the door. forcing you to take a step back instead. 

“Come in!” you answer when there’s enough distance between you and Harry, though your heart is still pounding in your chest as if it’s about to jump out and right into Harry’s hands. 

Head of security, Clarke steps into the suite.

“Her Royal Highness, you’re expected to appear in ten minutes,” he informs you with a polite nod.

“Styles just arrived to walk me over. Thank you.”

The two men exchange a look before Clarke walks out. Taking a deep breath you turn to face Harry.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” you huff, earning a tiny smirk from him before he opens the door, but as you walk past him he stops you just for a split second to whisper into your ear.

“Mine,” is all he says and you keep walking as if that one word didn’t just make your knees wobble.

You use the walk to the ballroom to get your thoughts straight and not imagine how Harry would peel you out of this dress if you had some privacy…

They announce you and  every pair of eyes are glued to you as you walk down the stairs and join the crowd. Endless rounds of introduction, the smile is frozen on your face and your feet are already sore from the heels, but you ignore the pain. 

It always amazes you how uninteresting the men you meet are. How they can’t hold a conversation that doesn’t make you claw your eyes out. Thirty seconds into the chit-chat and you’re already planning your escape usually. 

Tonight however there is one exception. 

His name is Magnus, some kind of relative of the Swedish royal family, you don’t really care to be honest. At first he seemed just another one of the boring puppets, but he soon proved to actually have a personality and your status didn’t stop him from showing it. 

His almost inappropriate, a bit risky jokes are what keep you sane tonight. He just knows what makes you laugh and he has a great timing dropping his silent comments that are only meant for you. 

“I think I’ll have a little break,” you tell him after a rather long conversation with some old baron you know you’ve seen a couple of times already, but can’t remember his name, only that he is always oddly curious about the neckline of your dress. 

“I’ll be around here, dodging questions about my father’s political choices.”

You smile with a nod and then look around to find Harry. He is not far away, by a window, his eyes already glued to you when you make your way towards him.

“Bathroom break,” you announce to him with a smile, expecting to see that hidden glimmer in his eyes as usual, because this is always the time when you steal a few intimate moments, but he is different now. Something is off.

He nods without a word and escorts you out of the room. In those few minutes you go back to your suite you try to figure out what could have happened since you parted ways that could upset him this much. As always, he opens the door for you, one guard stays outside and he comes in with you. 

He plants himself by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as he keeps a straight face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He looks at you just for a second before turning his gaze towards the window, his jaw flexes and your worry just grows, you haven’t seen him this upset in a long time. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he answers, but you both know it’s not true.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Harry. Just once more. What is wrong?”

Slowly, his eyes move back to you and for a moment, you forget to breathe, they’re so intense and darker than ever, as if all that gorgeous greenness is gone from them. 

“Your little date must be waiting for you, better hurry.”

Amusement settles on your face and you can’t stop yourself from letting a laugh slip out. 

“That’s your problem? Magnus?” His lips twitch at his name, but he doesn’t reply. “Harry, you know this is what’s expected from me. I have to pretend like I want to get to know the men out there.”

“I bet you didn’t have to pretend much when he came into the picture.”

“What are you talking about?!” you let out another frustrated laugh. You know he tends to get jealous, but you’ve never seen this side of him before. 

“You seemed to enjoy his company a lot out there.”

“Because he is not a boring asshole like most of the men I’m usually introduced to.”

“Great. You two will look good as king and queen.”

You know he doesn’t mean it, that he is just pissed and feels helpless in our situation, but in this moment you simply can’t see over the nasty fog of anger. 

“Oh you think so too? I agree,” is all you say before you march into your bathroom and shut the door closed. 

There’s no more talking as you walk back to the ballroom, but even the blind could see the tension between the two of you. You catch the other guard that came with you giving Harry a puzzled look, but he didn’t dare to ask. 

“Magnus!” you call out to him, making your way straight to him upon arriving when you spot him by a table. You can feel Harry’s burning gaze on your back, but tonight you’re in the mood to be petty. 

“Your Royal Highness, you’re back!” he smiles brightly. 

He is handsome, that’s for sure. Has great manners and an even greater sense of humor. The more you talk to him the more you think that you might be able to develop feelings for him in some years, or at least enough to live beside him in peace.

But those feelings would never live up to the love and passion you have for Harry. 

You’re still angry at him, for how childish he was and thought that anyone could stand a chance when he’s in your life. 

As the evening carries on your anger eases, though you’re still upset with him, you just want to be alone with him finally, touch him, kiss him, hear him call your name. 

Magnus asks you out at the end of the night and you politely decline, he doesn’t seem offended, maybe a bit disappointed, but he masks it well. You say your rounds of goodbye and then finally make your way back to your suite, Harry walking right beside you. 

The tension has somewhat lessened, but the vibes are still not the usual. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, if he is still as upset as before or he has cooled down, his face is so blank it irks you. Arriving at the suite you look at him, searching for any sign or feeling in his eyes, but they look back at you completely empty. So you walk in and lock yourself in your bathroom with trembling lips. 

Normally Harry would sneak in later at night, but this time you don’t expect him to show up. Hoping to burn the feelings tonight left behind, you take a hot bath and try to carry on as if nothing happened, even though Harry is all you can think about. 

Is it possible this is how things will end between the two of you? That this stupid little jealousy game is enough to pull you apart? You start to spiral heavily when you step out of the steamed up bathroom, but all your thoughts disappear the moment you notice you’re not alone.

Harry is sitting on the edge of your bed, still wearing his suit from tonight, but his black tie is gone and the top few buttons are undone on his perfectly white shirt. Unsure about where you’re standing and if he is still angry at you for the whole Magnus thing, you just stop halfway over to the bed, wrapped only in a silky robe. 

For a while he just sits there, staring at you, silent and unreadable and right when you’re about to speak, he stands up and starts walking towards you, slowly, his eyes locked with yours. You’re waiting for him to say something, maybe lash out on you, or apologize, practically anything, because his silence is pure torture. 

He stops right in front of you, if you took a deep breath your chest would be touching his, but he is still just staring down at you without a single word. 

And you break.

“Harry, I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, instead, his lips smash against yours, one hand on the back of your neck, the other one grabbing your jaw as he moves forward, pushing you to move with him until your back hits the wall, his whole body pressed against you as he kisses you like never before. 

He’s been rough with you before, but not like this. He is devouring your lips with the raw passion he had to hold back all evening, watching you parade around with another man while he wished he could show everyone in the room who you belong to. 

You both are in a rush, he is practically tearing your robe off your body while you’re ridding him of his clothes in a frenzy. You don’t even get to pull his shirt off entirely and his pants are just pooling around his ankles when brings your legs around his waist and thrusts his throbbing cock into you, only to freeze once he’s buried deep inside you.

You both gasp, lips smearing against each other as you stare back at each other, savoring the feeling of being as physically close as possible finally. The events of tonight have turned, they are now a force between the two of you, pulling you closer and closer until you’re melted together as one. 

You grab his face, tightening your legs around his waist as you breathe his name into his mouth before he starts moving. 

He starts off slow, but he is quick to fasten his pace, your gasps fill the room and you’re thankful your whole suite is soundproof, just like almost all rooms in the palace. It’s the only reason why you could have been in a similar situation in the library, the guest room in the west wing and your study. 

You’re tugging his hair and clawing at his back while he pounds into you relentlessly. At one point, most likely to muffle his moans, he bites into your shoulder and you faintly feel him sucking on the skin, but you’re just too gone to even realize what he is doing. 

He is kissing you so hard your teeth are clashing as he comes, his movements fall out of his fast paced rhythm for a bit, but then he keeps going for you.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me, come on my cock,” he urges you, knowing you’re close too. “I know you’re there, I can feel you so tight around my cock, just give it to me.”

A few more rough thrust and you’re whining out his name, your orgasm spreading through your whole body in waves. He fucks you through it and only stops when he’s sure you’ve given him everything. 

You stay like that, his cock buried inside you, his body pressing you up against the wall, foreheads resting against each other as you both try to catch your breath. When he pulls back you follow his eyes to your shoulder and see the reddish-purple mark he left on you. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathes out as he lets your legs down, your feet returning to the floor but he keeps an arm around your waist, knowing you probably don’t have much energy to stand on your own, his other hand comes up to your shoulder and he runs his fingers over the mark.

“It’s fine, I have makeup that covers anything,” you smirk at him. Secretly, you wish he’d let himself loose like this more often, you love seeing his mark on yourself. 

You catch his face falling before he speaks again.

“And I’m sorry for tonight.”

You couldn’t be angry at him anymore, not even if you tried. The tenderness is back in his eyes and he is the Harry you love so much again. 

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong, just… talked to a guy whose company was nice, after all those events full of assholes you always have to put up with. I was… jealous, because he got to be with you the way I want to.”

It stings in your chest, his confession hits hard now that it was said out loud, even though deep down you knew he felt like that, because you did too. You wished it could have been him. 

With a gentle touch, you take his face between your hands and pull him in for a soft kiss. 

“I know you know it, just probably forget it sometimes, but I’ll say it. No matter who they try to set me up with or how many princes and barons they throw into my way, I will only love and belong to you. Now and forever.”

You intentionally use his words and it seems to strengthen the message, you notice the tears in his eyes and you feel your throat closing up as well when you pull him in for another kiss, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You can taste his words on his tongue: I love you too.

When he pulls back you see the glimmer in his eyes, but then they disappear in a second. 

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head. “Harry, talk to me, please,” you beg him, pushing his hair back.

“It’s just… You’ll have to marry one day. You can’t be queen without marrying someone and I… I can’t be…”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, as if it would make it more real, even though it’s as real as it could get.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” you tell him, running the pad of your thumb over his eyebrow, as if you wanted to memorize every feature of his face. When he looks into your eyes you know he doesn’t believe you, but he just nods. You don’t want to let him go like this, to end tonight on such a bitter note. “So… you’d want to marry me? You’re saying you would willingly have me as your wife?”

You see the switch in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth curl up makes you lightheaded in a second.

“Did I say that?”

“You very much implied, yes,” you grin at him. “I’m surprised you’d want to put up with my big mouth and attitude, you get the most of them, because I can’t act up in public. Wouldn’t you get fed up with me after a while?” you ask teasingly.

“Mm, don’t let it get to your head, but I love your big mouth and attitude.” Leaning down his lips are now brushing against yours, but he is not kissing you just yet. “Especially… your mouth and everything it can do,” he adds in a whisper before finally sucking on your bottom lip. 

He pulls you away from the wall and starts walking you towards the bed and you just smile widely against his mouth as you willingly move with him until you both fall into your bed and make the best out of the little time he gets to spend with you before he needs to sneak out.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[daisymbin]

the unplanned date - kim mingyu

warnings: suggestive but not really! just light mentions of past sexual events but thats all. slight use of profanities

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: situationship to lovers lmaooo

wc: 2.8k

a/n: 1. fuck taeil

2. this was originally written for jeonghan but i felt it fitted mingyu better

3. please this took fucking forever because I kept getting writers block and hated the flow but I think I'm satisfied with it now

check out my masterlist!

"what? she's cheating on me?” mingyu asked in disbelief. “and what do you mean she's not my girlfriend?” mingyu angrily questioned jun with a slightly raised voice; his forehead and eyebrows scrunched in anger and confusion. “what the hell are you talking about? since when in the world did the two of you date? in another alternate universe??? all she did was go out on one date!” jun countered as he walks to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. at that, mingyu left their shared apartment, heading straight to yours; needing answers.

you jump when you hear your doorbell ring, “were you expecting someone?” your roommate seungcheol asked as you both exchange glances while he notes the time, it's 3:07am. “no?” you said as you got up from the sofa where you had been lounging on with seungcheol, binge watching the entire high school musical series but seungcheol stopped you, “wait, i'll get it. its late, it could be some creepy old man.” seungcheol rushed to open the door while you followed close by behind him. as soon as he opened the door, you were both met with a messy, disheveled hair kim mingyu. he’s panting so much that for a second, he looks like he might actually pass out. “mingyu? what are you doing here at this hour?” seungcheol asked as he opened the door wider for him to enter. “did you run here???” you asked. “yes but thats not the point right now,” mingyu pauses to catch his breath, “did you go out on a date with jun's classmate? are you cheating on me?”

seungcheol's brows slightly furrowed at mingyu's words, “woah calm down. why dont you come in first?” he asked as he tugged on mingyu's sleeves, ushering him in. “alright, im gonna be in my room to give you two some….privacy. no funny business please, its 3am and I could use some sleep.”

mingyu inpatiently waited for seungcheol to retreat to his room before he sprung his question yet again onto you. “so??? are you not going to answer me??” it was clear that mingyu is frustrated as he laid his clenched fist on the kitchen counter. “what the fuck are you talking about? cheating on you? we're not even together!” you countered back as your forehead and eyebrows scrunched in confusion & slight anger matching mingyu's. “I'm asking you why the hell I just heard from jun that you went on a date with that new guy boy from his biology class?” mingyu knew he was being slightly petty but still, how could you? you watched as he slowly unclench his fists only to grip at the corners of the kitchen counter. “like i said, you and i? we're not together mingyu. I'm free to date whoever I want, isn't it? that was the rule you set, is it not?” you asked in anger.

“what do you mean we're not together?” mingyu paused before he continued. his question was laced with confusion and a hint of heartbreak but of course, he tried to mask it with even more frustration. “we hold on hands all the damn time y/n! we spend time together, A LOT of time together might i add, we stay over at each other's place, we nap together, we sleep together, we cuddle, we hug, we kiss, you play with my hair all the time and i do too! i mean, for god's sake, we fuck each other! what do you mean we're not together?”

“so what, mingyu?’’ your own voice and tone took you aback for a second, the words came out harsher than you would have liked but you dont falter. “weren’t you the one who said you didn't want anything serious to begin with? weren't you the one who said that we’re only keeping things casual and nothing more? so why are you here at my apartment at ass o'clock screaming at me about cheating on you?” you had made sure to put out air quotes for those last 3 words.

this time, there was a clear dip in mingyu's voice, softer, more tender, more vulnerable. “well…yes but that was before.. that was when we were still… I don't know, fucking around but now we're definitely not! the things we do are definitely not just… fucking around things! you know what I mean! why are you making this so hard!” mingyu was exasperated, that much was clear. you watch as he now has his arms folded and his pout coming to light, making your heart clench at the sight. “gyu...” you said as you let out a small sigh, mingyu perked up at his nickname, his gaze shifting to you. “I'm not trying to make anything hard and you know that. how was i supposed to know anything? how was i supposed to know what you want if you don't tell me?”

“I thought you'd know by now…i-i thought it was obvious by now…I thought we both…”

“you thought we both what mingyu? you can't just keep all these thoughts to yourself without telling me and expect me to know anything because trust me, I don't! I don't know how you feel about me, I don't know if any of this is as serious for you as it is for me, god, I don't know what your intentions are! all I know from you is that this is all just casual and nothing more! and you know what's the worst part of it all? it's that I can't even ask you about it because then I'm gonna come off as clingy and needy and it's pathetic to even imagine presenting myself that way to you!” your lips were now pressed together in a thin line; an overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment taking over you, forcing you to look away from him to avoid eye contact and you start to feel your eyes prick you with tears threatening to spill.

“you know I'd never think that of you... i just…I'm not good with words. I don't know how to tell you what I want or how I feel about you. I just get so tongue tied when it comes to you. I really thought that maybe if I lo-” mingyu all but stopped himself with a deep sigh, unable to voice out his hidden feelings for you. he took a few seconds to find a replacement for that word before he took another deep breath & continued, “I really thought that maybe if I just… let things be and let my feelings act on their own that maybe you'd pick up on it and we would just…” he ended with a sigh that was barely audible. you would have missed it if you weren't all focused on him.

his voice trailing off and quivering only forced you to quickly blink your tears away to look back at him; the sight of his shoulders slumped and his head looking down, not meeting your eyes only broke your heart even more. is it possible for your heart to feel so heavy and sad, yet filled with so much hope? because that's definitely how you're feeling right now.

regardless of how much you think you know what mingyu is trying to say, you still wanted him to say it, you still wanted to hear it from him. this friends with benefits situationship thing has been going on long enough for a year & a half now & that doesnt include the years before when you were both friends. everyone knows you're both kind of a thing yet not really. no matter how much the boys pushed for mingyu to make it official, mingyu always brushed them off and said that he didn't have to, that you already know what you both had, but in this moment, it dawned on him that what he thought he had with you isn't what you thought you had with him. all the self loathe and heartbreak he's feeling right now couldn't have made him feel more stupid than he already was.

“gyu can you- can you try? can you try telling me? Just… take your time, im here, im listening, I have all the time in the world for you, just try baby. I just want to know how you really feel, I just want to know what you want for yourself and for us.” your hands reached out for his with a mind of its own.

looking down at your joined hands, mingyu starts moving his thumb mindlessly at the back of your hand, caressing them gently. it's now that he realizes how utterly stupid he has been. “baby i-” yours eyes follow his hands as they now draw circles on yours as you gave him a light squeeze of encouragement. “go on gyu, im listening.”

“I don't know how to do this. I know I said I didn't want anything serious at the start of it and that it's just casual but… but that was before you- do you remember our first date?” mingyu gathers all the courage he could find in himself and cautiously brings his eyes to yours. “what date?” you didn't want to sound rude or cold but as far as you could remember, you've never had any dates with mingyu. your relationship with him started off as just being friends for years, evolving into a friends with benefits situation which was strictly only physical needs late at night, outside of that, you were nothing more, well, at least for the first few months that is. until….unless..? was he talking about the first time you both hung out together alone without the boys outside of the bedroom and while the sun is still out? “do you mean…the flea market?” you asked as realization dawned on you; that was the day your friends with benefits relationship evolved into something that was like a relationship but not really, the cursed situationship type of thing.

mingyu chuckles as he realizes how sentimental he looks right now, although, he's not sure if you can tell. his shy smile and fangs peeking through as he watches the gears in your head turn. “well..what about that day mingyu?” truth be told, you remember that day clear as day, but you can't pinpoint exactly what mingyu is trying to say; there wasn't really anything…special or anything that stood out that day, well, other than the fact that you were both out and not in bed that is.

“that was the first time we hung out together alone after we started the whole friends with benefits thing. do you remember? that night before that, when we broke our first rule of not sleeping over?” a quiet mhm was all you could let out, unsure of where mingyu is going with this. “do you even remember why I called you over that night?”

“you were sad. your hamster….he passed away.” you said carefully. “mhm he did. and that evening, that night, it was the first time you came over and we didn't…we didn't do anything. you held me, comforted me and let me wet your t-shirt with my tears. you insisted on putting me to bed and cuddling me to sleep for the first time and told me that you'd leave after I've fallen asleep. I still remember your slight hesitation that night when I'd asked you to stay over and not leave. did you know? i felt my heart sank a little when you hesitated but that was just the first of many realization that i- that i was in love with you.” your heart fluttered at his admission, “the first of many? were there more?”

for the first time tonight, mingyu let out a laugh, the one you loved so much. “of course there's more. when we woke up the next morning, my head was pounding so bad from all the crying the night before and I was so sad when I woke up alone in bed because I thought you had left but it was almost as if you had some psychic power and knew I was awake, you were screaming from the kitchen saying you know I was awake and asked me to get my ass over to the kitchen!” mingyu laughed harder this time, his hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “that was because I had just came back from the bakery! my hands were full so I accidentally let the door slam a little and I was sure that that would have woken you up!” you giggled while trying to defend yourself.

“you even got me my favourite cake from the bakery and all my other favourite pastries for breakfast. you must have been so in love with me ~" mingyu joked while raising his eyebrows suspiciously at you and you all but fall silent. you cleared your throat before you teased him back, “so? that's why you like me? because I cuddled you to sleep and bought you food? how easy can you be kim mingyu!”

“no that's not why! although i'll admit, it did click something in me. made me realise how well you know me and how well you take care of me. but that wasn't it! it was when you suggested we go to the flea market after breakfast just to take a walk to clear my mind for a bit. do you remember what happened there?”

“we walked and talked about silly things as always, what else? ah, you tried tanghulu for the first time! I remember that.” you recall giddily at how his eyes widened brightly at the sweetness of tanghulu when he took his first bite. “not that, silly! we ran into your ex & I had told him that i was your boyfriend and asked him to back off, do you know why I did that?” “because you pity me?” you joked, you know mingyu would never pity you, he's not a bad person but you couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him. mingyu sighed dramatically at that, “no, I said I was your boyfriend because I saw the way he was looking at you…and it made me jealous. it made me realise that, that's the way I always look at you. it made me realise that I don't ever want anyone else to look at you that way and that I want you to look at me that way. me and only me. i-i realised that it's not just sex I want with you. that's why after that day, I kept bringing us out for dinner and stuff. or even just to hang out at home and watch stupid romcoms just to spend time with you. so I thought that, when our relationship from simply friends with benefits isn't friends with benefits anymore that you'd get it i guess…i don't know…saying it out loud right now sounds so stupid… I probably should have said something earlier… I'm sorry.” mingyu had his eyes on his hands again, guilt and embarrassment washing over him.

"thank you, gyu-ah. I really needed to hear all of that from you.” you lifted your hand to rest your palm on his cheeks, guiding his eyes back to you. “does that mean you like me too?” silly silly kim mingyu you thought. “no of course not!” you joked a failed joke because it seems kim mingyu didn't get the joke when he let out a quiet oh. “you're so silly kim mingyu. can't you tell im in love with you by now? how much more obvious can a girl get?” mingyu ears perked up at your words, then, smiling so big his jaws almost hurt. his hands turn to pull you by your wrists, placing them around his waist as he pulled you into a hug. your hands move up to rest on his neck and the other in his hair, tugging them lightly at the scalp. “I love you, I'll do better for you.” he spoke so close to your ear his lips almost brush them. “I love you too, thank you, I'll do better for you too.” your words only caused mingyu to tighten his hold on you, “can we go to bed now? I'm so tired and I want to sleep with my girlfriend.” he whined pouting. “yes we can, boyfriend.” you answered with a smile as you start dragging your big puppy into your bedroom, excited for more cuddles to come.

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Figured I'd share this clip since I saw the post with the gifs going around again recently (I could listen to him talk forever). 🥰

Clip from "Vengeance in the Making" | "The Batman" Blu Ray Featurette

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings- MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - Soft Toji!! This chapter-mostly just fluffy cuteness, some oral and pregnant sex

ꕥ Word Count- this chap- 5k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 12 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 13

Three months later

About six months along

You stare at yourself in the mirror, grimacing as you touch your tummy, tracing three long silvery stretch marks, turning this way and that, you’re getting big already, just your tummy and nothing else really, aside from a fullness to your breasts. Breasts your annoying fiance constantly wants to grab, touch and suck on, you are dressed in a tank top and Toji’s sweats, your new favorite things.

“Doll, you’re taking forever, you good? Sick or anything?” Toji asks from outside the bathroom door, and you sigh, stepping out and frowning. His eyes immediately go to your tummy, his big hands on it, as he leans down and kisses you. “Fuck you look so sexy.”

“Toji I look like a fucking watermelon! A blob! And look.” You point then, feeling tears in your eyes at your stretch marks, and Toji scoffs, leaning down on his knees now, looking up at you and kissing your tummy. “No, it’s-”

“Beautiful, doll. Look at you.” He’s kissing up your stretch marks, as you brush back his hair, all sweaty from his workout, sticking to his tanned forehead.

“No, you’re an Insta Baddie and I’m a whale.” He snorts then, you watched Toji post another picture and get another 10k likes, fuck he’s bad at pictures too, imagine if these women saw him forreal?

You both had been on several dates and women were thirsty for him, but Toji only has eyes for you, and you don’t get it, because your fingers are swelling and your tummy is so big. He’s more on you than ever, if that’s possible, constantly trying to touch you, suck on your nipples, trying to get you to ride him, but you’re so insecure as you get further along.

“You’re sexy as fuck. Keep talking shit about yourself and I’ll not let you cum tonight.” You tremble a bit, because fuck you’re always horny.

“Mmm, we have Megs, Yuji and Nobara coming for dinner, you know. You need to help me find something pretty.”

He chuckles as he stands, big hands still on your tummy. “Doll, I sure ain’t picking outfits, got me soft enough like a lil bitch.”

“Oh please!” You pout, and he scowls, dark green eyes narrowing.

“Nah, ya got enough clothes, brat. Go pick em or greet em in this.” He grins, yanking on your sweatpants (his sweats!?) 

“Ugh, no! Fine, mean old man. Ow!” Toji pinches your nipples then, sensitive as fuck, making you gasp. “Dick! Let go!”

“Don’t like your attitude.”

“Don’t like yours!”

“Baby got you so angry, swear to god.”

“You wanted one!”

“Yes I do!” He’s cupping your face then, slamming his lips down, and you feel yourself get so wet, moaning as he grabs you so tight, until he feels the baby kick his torso, and he looks down, laughing so soft, a beautiful grin on his stern face. “Oh my god… well hello baby.”

You giggle then, unable to keep an attitude when your baby kicks once more, now on Toji’s big palm. “She’s angry with you, Toji.”

“She’s gonna be a brat like you.” You just grin, as she does a somersault inside you, and kicks your rib, making you wince. “See?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Fuck me huh?” He scowls again, done with your attitude quite clearly, and turns you, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding down your sweats and smacking your backside.

“Ow!” You bite your lip, thighs shifting as the movement makes you so wet, and Toji smirks at you as you look back. “Gonna smack your pregnant wife!?”

“Fuck yeah I am. Look how big that ass is getting-”

“Hey fuck you! Ah!”

“I like it, lemme enjoy. Mm, these handprints.” Toji smacks you gently, it stings a bit but nothing like he’d do before you started showing more. He acts ‘rough’ but he really takes it too easy, too worried to hurt the baby. “So slutty, you like it huh Ma?”

“Mmm, shut up. Ngh!” Toji smacks your pussy, making you spread your thighs for more, praying your baby will stop kicking, and she finally does, so you can focus on how good it feels as he runs a rough finger through your folds.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you. Be bad and you can just get licked everywhere but that clit.”

“Mmm, I’ll be good!” You whine, Toji has been loving to lick your pussy all over, avoiding your clit to torture you when you’re bad, until he has you a damn mess. “Toji, can’t stand like this long…”

“Oh shit, c’mon.” He slides up your sweats now, picking you up with ease still, and you’re kissing his hot, firm lips, so hungry for him. He’s got you on the bed now, sitting on the edge, kneeling between your legs. “How ya wanna do it, doll? I never know what’s good, you’re so bitchy so much.”

“Mmm… I’m sorry.” You blink back tears and he frowns.

“Don’t say sorry and shit. I knew you’d be the bitchiest pregnant girl, and I still fuckin did it.” You giggle now, and he sighs. “Fuck these mood swings.”

“Ugh I know! Don’t know if I’m sad, horny, hungry or happy.” He kisses your thighs over your sweats, hands rubbing your tummy.

“I know what ya are, doll.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” You whisper, caressing his strong jawline. He kisses your palm then kisses your belly button.

“Gorgeous as fuck. That’s what. Prettiest brat there is.” Your lips are trembling now, as you sniffle, then you yank him up by his broad shoulders.

“I fucking love you, Toji” He’s kissing you as he’s standing, bent at the waist, as you lean back and he’s caressing your breasts with his big hands.

“I love you, mean little brat. Gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Take baby aspirin, old man. Fuck!” He pinches your nipple with a scowl, and you grin up at him then. “You’re the most handsome man there is, Toji, I swear to god. I’ll never, ever want anyone but you.”

He blinks at your sincerity, moaning and slipping his hand down your sweats, rubbing your clit, soaked already, as he studies you, pulling your hair gently at the base of your neck. “I’ll never want anyone, how could I? Look at you, fuck you’re so wet f’me too ain’t ya baby?”

“Always, always.” You whisper, then you’re grinding on his hand as two fingers slide in.

“You’re so wet doll, oh my god.” He moans, playing with you, and you hear it, the sounds of that lewd squishing in the room.

“Want you, please Toji.” You plead now, and he’s letting you undress him, as you eagerly take him in your mouth, lapping up the salty precum at his tip, letting it coat your mouth now. He’s huffing, his abs flexing as his hips thrust, not fully, Toji is so careful even though his hands are shaking.

Your eyes look up at him, and he looks down with his lidded gaze, his teeth bared just so, and you suck him harder, lashes low over your dazed eyes. “You’re such a good girl f’me, for once huh?”

“Just once.” You tease, flicking your tongue and stroking him, before he’s slipping down your top, moaning at your breasts, so full and bouncy, and you pull his cock closer, nodding, letting him stroke his cock between them.

“Holy… oh my… look at ‘em. Look at em s’pretty.” He’s a mess now, as you hold your jiggly tits together for him, as he’s fucking his thick, veiny cock between them, hands sliding down the sides of them, making you shiver. “Lemme eat you, please.”

“I can’t see you though!” You pout, and he laughs, breathless.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t see your pretty pussy. Don’t deny a man his meal, damn brat.”

“Oh fine but I miss looking at you!” He pulls you by your now bare thighs, diving down as you lay back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge and on his strong shoulders, feeling his muscles tense as he lavishes you with his tongue, and fuck it feels so good, you’re screaming out. “T-Toji!”

He’s smiling against you, you can’t see his damn eyes, all you see is your huge tits and tummy, your eyes closing as you try to reach down, but he takes a hand and holds your wrist, squeezing and giving you just enough roughness. You’re whimpering as he’s drinking you up, fuck you hear him sucking your wetness, exhaling and moaning on you.

“It tastes even better.” He whispers, sliding a thick digit in your soppy little cunt, which sucks it in, as he watches it disappear so pretty between those puffy lips. He’s sucking your clit into his mouth now, lavishing the tiny pearl with his tongue as he vibrates it by groaning.

“Toji!” You scream out, thighs threatening to close, but he sucks right through it, as you cum so messy all over his face and his hand, gushing liquid, you feel it hot and wet down your ass now. “Oh my god.”

“Would think your water broke, cum so much, lil slut.” You gasp, but he’s leaned up and now you see that handsome, rugged face you love, and it’s half covered in your slick.

“Get in there, please, jerk!” He is rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds now, leaning just a bit over you, as you swipe back his inky black locks, and he pushes in  so easy. You’re whining at the stretch, and you can’t stop it, you cum again when he’s hitting that cervix, and he grins.

“So easy, brat- oh fuck, stop tightening up!” He’s tense over you, and you grin as you get him back, and you feel him so good, you moan, cumming still, getting him so wet he’s slippery, even as tight as you are. “Oh my… you better not….”

“Gonna bust fast old man?” He gently smacks your face as you giggle.

“I will beat this ass when you’re ready again. Fuck you so hard.” He says, putting just enough pressure now in your pussy, as he’s so careful to keep any weight off your tummy, and you cling to him, around his neck, biting your lip and cheeks flushing. He sighs then, pausing.

“Wh-what? I’ll loosen up. Don’t stop.” You whine, rolling your hips up, and he shakes his head, brushing your hair back gently, then his thumb brushes a rounding cheek.

“Nah, just beautiful is all.” You feel those tears back, slamming his lips to yours as he fucks into you, steady and slow and so good, until you’re both falling apart, and he’s pulsing inside of you, as you’re throbbing from your aftershocks. “Gonna fill you up s’good, doll.”

“Fill me up, please Daddy.” At that Toji cums, and he cums hard, those ribbons of that white cum soaking into your walls, coating them, as he slows, kissing your face, your breasts, hands rubbing your tummy.

“You’re so sexy, fuck, doll. Like this?” He’s eased out now, kissing your tummy, and you exhale, trembling and trying to come to, nothing about sex with Toji was anything but mind blowing.

“I love you so much.” You say softly, as he melts your insecurities away, this gruff man with his nasty ass jokes and lewd looks, he makes you feel so beautiful even when you’re so down. There is no being down when you’re with Toji Fushiguro, he will never let you be.

“I love you, lil Mama.” You smile against his lips as he eases you up, and then he’s gone for a moment, back with a washcloth, cleaning you up.

“Does it bother you, the… um hair? It annoys me.” You grumble, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“Kinda like it, doll. Do you not?”

“No I don’t. But I can’t see it or reach it!”

“Need me to shave ya?”

“Please.” He sighs.

“I think it’s cute.” He’s rubbing the hair you can't see on your mound. “But whatever ya want, brat.”

“Yay!”

******

You are sitting at dinner now, that you and Toji had cooked together, and Megumi pulls out a seat next to him for you, patting it. You sit down gratefully, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment, and catch Toji’s soft smile as Megumi touches your tummy, and gasps when he feels it, the bump of your baby girl saying hello, his usually serious features softened.

“Oh my god… It's doing that now!?” You giggle, nodding as you take his hand, pressing it a little higher on your bump.

“You haven’t seen me in like two months, it was hard to tell then. Now she’s vicious, I swear.” Megumi smiles just a bit, dark lashes lowering as he looks at your tummy in your pretty white sundress.

You remember when he found out.

3 months ago

“You’re what!? Dad I swear to god, the fuck!” Megumi was furious as you both had told him, inviting him to Toji’s home right after leaving Shiu.

“Kid…”

“Don’t kid me. She’s my age. I wouldn’t want a brat, tch.” He pouts and looks at you seriously. “You can’t want a kid yet.”

“Megs, I do… I am really happy. I know it’s weird, but I want this.” You look at him now, and he frowns, looking at his dad again, then you, rolling his eyes.

“God, don’t do that puppy dog eye thing.”

Toji chuckles. “She gets everything that way.”

“Bet she does.” Megumi rolls those dark green eyes, and you keep pouting, eyes wide, until he sighs, touching your still flat tummy. “Do you really want a baby?”

“I do, and I promise I’ll be the best mom.” You touch his hand over yours, and he smiles just a bit finally as he looks down. “You’ll have a little sister or brother!”

“That sounds annoying. A stupid kid, ugh.”

“Hey!” You poke at him now, and he smirks. “You’re such a little shit, Megs!”

“He gets that from me.” Toji ruffles Megumi’s perfect spikes, and he smacks his hand away, grimacing in disgust, but he’s still touching your tummy, his black brows drawing together.

“Hmm. If you’re happy?”

“I am Megs.”

“The fuck, about me kid?” Toji says, standing and crossing his thick, banded biceps, and Megumi snorts.

“Again, if you’re happy.” He says to you, making you grin as Toji fumes.

“How does my kid like you better than me?” He grumbles, and you stick your tongue out, as Megumi’s long fingers slip off your tummy.

“Everyone likes me better, Old man.” Megumi grins at that, and Toji loses his shit, but Megumi is looking at you contemplatively. “What is it, Megs?”

“You look so happy. Glowing.” You blush now.

“I am happy, I really am.”

“Then… fuck it. I guess I’m gonna be a big brother.”

“Yay!” You smack a kiss on his cheek, and Toji smiles at the two of you, devious fucking smile, that makes you both look at him, wide eyed.

“And you’re gonna have a stepmom.”

“Yuck!”

Present- Toji’s POV

Things absolutely changed that day, now Megumi is so sweet, as Yuji and Nobara take turns feeling your tummy, and Toji is making everyone plates, stealing glances at his pretty fiance. One he can’t wait to make his wife, but you’re waiting until after the baby for that, you do have a pretty little diamond ring on your finger that glints in those lights now.

He watches his son laugh next to you, as you carry his daughter, and fuck if you don’t make him a sappy ‘old man’ damn brat that you are. As you’re all flushed and beautiful, glowing so bright, your eyes sparkling as you talk to your best friends. Fuck he’s a lucky man, you’re a goddess to him, you always were, but now you’ve got that tummy, those curves, in that pretty white dress?

You look like Venus herself.

He would probably just call you a sexy lil doll, but he does think you’re his goddess, damn you make him corny. If someone told Toji Fushiguro he’d be such a sap he would never believe it. Megumi feels the baby kick again, and Toji’s heart finally feels full, this void he’d had for so long since he had Megumi was filled, he was so lucky the kid wants to have him in his life.

He’s so lucky he has you three, you, Megs and the baby, even your friends who drive him insane, he just wants you happy. And as you peek at him, sipping on some sparkling water, and you look at him with such love in your pretty eyes, that brilliant smile, it’s like you’re clenching his heart with your tiny little hand.

How was Toji ever lucky enough to have you, and to have a family like this? After fucking up so much, after being just a bum for so long, how has Toji finally got his shit together, finally got a fiance. A beautiful one, a sweet one (lets be real, you’re kind of mean as fuck and bitchy, but Toji loves that) sweet when you want dick, but how’d he even get lucky enough for that?

He peeks and sees Shiu has texted him, and smiles a bit at the phone as he’s grabbing more drinks for everyone. Shiu still hates Toji, and Toji doesn't blame him, but he’s a good damn dad, better than Toji was with Megs. He hopes he can be that good of a dad to your baby, he damn well will try.

He’s picturing a pretty little daughter now, and he can’t stop the stupid smile on his face.

*****

3 months later- Labor day

“Toji Fushiguro, I hate you and your big ass head! Ow fuck!” You scream, holding his hand so tight he’s wincing, scowling right back at you.

“You got the big ass head, blame your damn dad!”

“Excuse me!?” Shiu shouts, looking up from where he has his face covered, terrified as your contractions get quicker. “You got a big ass head Toji!”

“Fuck yes he does. Ugh! You suck so bad I can’t do this!” You’re sobbing at the pain, and Megumi stands then, shaking his head.

“Can’t do it. Dad, be supportive, fuck. Shiu, c’mon… coffee?” Megumi suggests, and Shiu jumps up immediately.

“Cocaine maybe, fuck.”

“Dad!” You scowl and he grimaces.

“You’re scary kiddo. You deserve her to break your hand, Toji.” Shiu says then, and they run out, leaving you with your mean, big headed fiance.

“Brat too tiny can’t have a kid right?”

“Fuck you I can!”

“Mmm, sure you can.”

“Toji I’ll never have one again, I swear ugh!” You squeeze his hand again, screaming out, as the doctors rush in, and they take your vitals.

“She’s not dilating, we can’t keep going much longer, it's been ten hours.” The doctor says, and Toji frowns then, holding your hand tightly.

“Shit.”

“Shit, shit what!?”

“C section, Megs was one too.”

“Because your big ass head, oh fuck you!” He scowls.

“You’re a damn brat!”

“You’re a dick, old man!”

“Ahem. We can give it a little longer, but we really need to get you prepped in case. We can up the pitocin and try that if you want? What’s best for you mom?” They ask you then, and you are glaring right at him, as he is you, then his face changes, as he holds your tummy, and kisses you, right in front of blushing nurses and that doctor, sighing against your lips.

“Scared, Toji.” You admit, and he nods then, head resting on yours, as you feel your heart race.

“It’ll be fine, doll. I got you. Right here with you, yeah?”

You kiss him back, hands entangling in his hair, so messy from how much he’d been messing with it. “Right here with me.”

******

“Oh my god! I’m a grandpa!” Shiu is holding your beautiful little girl later on, as you’re a sweaty, exhausted mess, having this baby was not easy, thanks to Toji’s big ass head, you’d had a lot of trouble, but she was here, no c section thank goodness, and perfect. And you were safe and sound. Your heart aches as you see your dad smiling so big.

“She’s beautiful.” You whisper, as Toji sits next to you in the bed, holding up water for you to sip, smiling softly.

“You did so good, doll. She’s beautiful just like you.” He whispers, kissing your sweaty forehead, and you smile tremulously, as you sip the icy water, sighing.

“She has your eyes, Toji.” You say then, as now Megumi holds his little sister, and you watch the usually serious Megumi melt as he looks at her.

“She’s so beautiful. Hey little sis.” Megumi cooes softly, and you melt even more, as Toji is stroking your hair back, sighing.

“I’m so fuckin happy.” He murmurs in your ear, and you touch his face gently, smiling up at him, eyes glimmering with tears. “Ya made me so happy, doll, I don’t know how to even describe it. Heart… fucking hurts.”

“Aw, you’re such a sap, old man.” You tease, and he narrows his eyes, but you peck a weak kiss on his stubbled chin. “I’m kidding. Toji I couldn’t be happier.”

Megumi hands Toji your baby girl again, and he grins so big, as she grabs one of his big fingers with her tiny little fist. The sight of your beautiful little girl in Toji’s big arms makes you wanna have another damn baby, even after all this, even after being uncomfortable this last month and having a hard time. You’d give this man anything, when you watch him light up.

He gently hands you her, your sweet little baby Mio. She opens those dark green eyes, just like Megs and Toji, but she has your hair color, and your nose, you’re tapping her nose gently, watching her little mouth form into an O, and you smile softly as your heart swells. You have never felt this, this love, you love Toji so much but this is so different, it fills you with so much emotion you feel them spilling over through your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I love you, little Mio. So, much. I’m your mommy!” You whisper, sitting up with Toji’s help further, as she blinks those beautiful eyes, and you put her forehead to your lips, inhaling her. “She smells so good!?”

“The baby smell.” Toji and Shiu say, and you smile at them both, as your dad comes and kisses the top of your head, then bends down and kisses Mio’s downy little head.

“Do you all still remember that? In like the fifties?” Megumi says, earning your giggle and their scowl.

“Brats.” Toji grumbles.

“Brats.” Shiu agrees, then taps Mio’s nose, and yours. “Look, that’s your nose alright, isn’t it? She’s so pretty like you.”

“Aw thank you dad, she’s even more beautiful.” You all coo over her, and soon Megumi and Shiu eventually leave, after saying their goodbyes. It’s you with Toji in the quiet room, holding your baby. You’re so tired, but so happy, your heart so full as you feel this contentment and excitement, as Toji is holding you to his side.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s your dad. Welcome to the world, little one.” You’re crying again, at how sweet he is. “Kept us waiting, had to make an entrance, huh?”

“Dramatic like me.” You giggle, and he grins, and you start to feel exhaustion hit, sighing as you lean into his side.

“You’re gonna be the best dad any little baby could have, you know.” Toji blinks a bit then, looking away, you watch that Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

“I’m gonna do everything to try.”

“I know you will, I’m so happy you’re her dad.”

“You’re her mommy. And you’ll be the best. I love you, doll, fuck you’ve made me so happy.” He whispers, and you kiss him, as your baby begins to let out a cute little cry, then it gets loud, and you laugh a bit. “She’s gonna be so bratty, I’m screwed.”

“So screwed.” You agree, grinning, as Toji helps you pull your breast out, and he exhales, as you hiss a bit when you see the milk drops. “Ugh, feel like a cow!”

“It’s beautiful, doll. Don’t.” He says gruffly, and then he helps put your baby's little mouth on your nipple. She struggles to latch, her little fists punching you practically, with sharp nails. Toji chuckles. “She’s vicious, isn’t she?”

“Jesus, guess that’s what happens with us as parents. Ow! Mio!” You’re huffing, wriggling with discomfort as her gums bite down, then finally she latches, and sucks, her puffy cheeks moving as she drinks. Finally you ease, exhaling. “She’s got it!”

“She’s a pro, too. Ya alright doll?” He asks, brow furrowing, and you nod then, letting him kiss your temple as your little girl eats.

“It feels so weird, but I’m good. It will take practice, the nurse said.”

“You’ll do great, already know it. Gonna be the best at this parenting shit, both of us, won’t we?” He nudges you with a grin, and you feel yourself getting so sleepy, feeling such warmth. You nod.

“We will do such a good job. I know it. She’s everything now.” You caress her cheek again, love bursting from every part of you.

“You’re both everything to me.” He corrects, and then sighs. “And Megs, of course, he was so happy wasn’t he?”

“He was oh my god! I knew it.”

“We’ll have him watch the kid so we can go fuck-”

“Toji!” You gasp, and he just grins shameless and lewd. “Knew you were being too nice, old perv.”

“Old, knocked you the fuck up. Should do it again.”

“Fuck no!” You stick your tongue out, as your baby now is asleep, no longer sucking, and you smile at her little face, a pretty gummy smile “Oh my god!”

“She’s milk drunk. Megs got like this.” You giggle then, looking up at him, seeing his dark green eyes, the same color as your daughter’s eyes, so lit up.

“Was Megumi a serious kid?”

“I didn’t know him well enough.” He frowns, and you sigh.

“I’m sorry-”

“Nah, doll, it’s okay. I’ll know everything about her, little Mio, I swear. I’ll never leave your side.” His words break your heart into pieces, you hear the pain in his voice as he takes his daughter in his arms.

“Toji you will do great. I know it.” You say softly, and he nods, as you wipe a tear, making him scowl.

“Ain’t crying.”

“Oh no, saw nothing.” He snorts, and you smile, as emotions run through you. “I love you, Toji.”

“I love you too, doll. So much.” He kisses your forehead, and then your baby’s head, and you lean into his side, watching him, feeling so content, as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear, and you’re so tired now you can’t keep awake.

“I’m gonna nap, okay?” You mumble, and he nods, easing off the bed.

“Yeah, sleep, I got her, doll. She’s okay.” And you doze off, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling complete.

*****

When you wake up, you’re surprised to find it’s night, and the room is dimly lit, just the moon coming through the window, and the hospital lights are all off aside from a little one around your bed, casting a soft glow over everything. Toji’s still there, sitting in a chair beside the bed, holding your sleeping baby, looking down at her with a soft, loving smile on his face.

You sit up and he looks over at you, eyes tired but so, so happy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Did I miss anything?” You ask nervously, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Nothin’. She’s just been sleeping like a rock. Like you, lazy little thing.” He smirks, and you grin at his words, watching as he adjusts her in his arms.

“Am not lazy, just had your baby!”

“Mmm, you were snoring though.”

“Was not!” He grins, and places your baby down in the little bassinet now, all swaddled up. “Come here.” You whisper, and he stands, stretching his long limbs and then he’s leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, as you kiss back, feeling that warmth spread through your body.

Toji sits in the bed, laying on his side, pulling you to him, eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, doll. You’re a mommy now.” He whispers, stroking your messy hair, and you snuggle to him, his hard, warm body, where you feel so safe, as he strokes your back up and down in the little hospital bed.

“Thank you, for everything. For being here with me, for being with me. Toji I can never imagine being without you.” You say then, and he exhales, gulping, his eyes lidded and tired like yours.

“Where else would I be, doll, but right here?” He kisses you again, and you hold onto him, feeling the love in his arms, so strong and safe, as you feel this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Toji slips a hand to your breast then, and you squeak, earning his chuckle. “What, they’re hot.”

“You perv, I just had a baby!” You whisper, and he grins then, kissing down the side of your neck. “I feel gross!”

“Nah, you’re always sexy, even now. Enjoy that break you get for what, a couple weeks?” He nips your throat, and you gasp at it. How can he be such a hornball, damn old man.

“Like a month, fuck don’t do that.” He is kissing your neck again where he’d just bit, pulling back and smirking down at you, tiling your chin up and cupping your cheeks now.

“Enjoy that break, gonna knock ya up again.” You smack at him and he’s just grinning, white teeth stark against dark stubble.

“Will not, gonna tie those tubes.”

“Better not, brat.”

“Mmhmm! Now shut up, and lemme sleep. Snuggle me?” He smiles softer now, nodding and holding you tight against him, as your arms wrap his torso, and you feel sleep tugging at you again.

“Love you, lil doll.” He whispers against your hair.

“Love you, Toji.”

Final Chap Here

Kofi Link if you wanna buy me a coffee <3

ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57496135/chapters/153013882

[capseycartwright]

gosh. the full weight of buck being canonically bi has hit me like a tonne of bricks and i’m trying not to cry at my desk but like. he’s bisexual. he’s discovering his sexuality in his thirties and embracing a new part of himself and we’re seeing this big bad strong firefighter break all sorts of stereotypes about the kind of man he’s expected to be because he’s kissed a man and that changes his life forever in the best ways. this is the stuff that 911 is just so fucking good at. they’ve done it over and over again in so many different ways with these characters over the years and it’s a fucking wonder to witness happen. they treat their queer characters with such tenderness and kindness and at the same time their queer characters just Are and there’s something so revolutionary in that. esp in an ensemble show that’s set in a world where you ~ classically ~ didn’t see so many queer people (the cop shows and emergency shows of old, etc, were so typically Manly and buddy buddy vibes u know)

anyway. buck is bi. and it’s a beautiful story we’re getting to witness and it’s making me emotional as anything. i can’t wait to see what happens next! i can’t wait!

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 4

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴,"

summary: life has been perfect, just you and him, but the shadows of both of you and Joel's past has been haunting you again...

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 4

masterlist of the series

previous | chapter 3

next | chapter 5

The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter these days, casting a warm glow over your life since Joel had become more involved in it. His presence brought a newfound sense of safety and comfort, not just for you but for him as well. Joel, once a cold and distant figure, began to soften, melting into a warmer, more open person whenever you were around. It was as if the world belonged to just the two of you, and the bond you shared illuminated both your lives in profound ways.

Joel was now a regular at church, attending Sunday services and every fellowship event with renewed purpose. His participation didn't go unnoticed, especially by Tommy, Ellie, and Maria, who observed the positive changes in him. Joel still remained a man of few words, guarded and cautious, but your presence had undeniably brought a light into his life, guiding him out of the shadows.

For you, Joel became the protector you desperately needed. Whenever your father’s temper flared, you could escape to Joel, finding solace in his arms. He calmed your storms, just as you eased his burdens, becoming each other's anchor. You often sneaked out together to the lake or climbed into the back of Joel’s truck to gaze at the stars. Those moments felt like the world stood still, with only the two of you and the infinite sky. Joel found himself no longer lost in the darkness; instead, he had found his light in you.

However, you both had to maintain a facade, keeping your relationship discreet to avoid the prying eyes of the community. Sneaking out, lying to your father about being at a friend's house, and stolen moments of intimacy became part of your routine. While you hadn't taken your relationship to a sexual level due to your trauma from Jamie, the nights spent cuddling, kissing, and talking were enough for Joel. Though he sometimes felt the stirrings of desire, he respected your boundaries, focusing instead on the depth of your connection.

Joel sometimes took you out of town, exploring Austin or Houston. You visited night markets, played in arcades, and strolled through bustling streets. Joel despised arcades, but the sound of your laughter and the sight of your carefree smile made every annoying game worthwhile. Every time you smiled, it was as if a sunbeam pierced through the clouds in Joel's heart, warming a place he had thought forever cold.

"Got another project comin' up," Joel said one evening as you sat together in his truck, overlooking the hills. "A big one. Tommy thinks it's too much work for the crew we got, but I reckon we can handle it."

"Tell me more about it," you prompted, even though construction details often went over your head. You loved hearing Joel talk about his work; the passion in his voice made you feel closer to him.

"It's an office building downtown. Gonna be a challenge because we gotta keep the old facade. Means a lotta careful demolition, precision work. Gotta bring in some new folks, too, ones who know their way around older structures."

You nodded, trying to visualize it. "Sounds complicated."

"It is," he admitted, a touch of pride in his voice. "But we got a good team. Tommy's been talkin' to some contractors. We need people who can do the job right, you know? Can’t afford any mistakes."

"I believe you can do it," you said earnestly. "You’re amazing at what you do."

He chuckled softly. "You’re sweet." Joel's hand reached up, his rough fingers gently caressing your chin. His touch was like a warm breeze on a chilly evening, comforting and electrifying at the same time. Joel’s gaze held yours, his brown eyes deep and intense, like molten chocolate, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher but felt deeply within your soul.

Every touch, every look from him, made you melt. It was as if you were a snowflake landing on a sun-warmed pavement, vanishing into a pool of warmth under the intensity of his presence. You giggled, the sound light and musical, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel shook his head slowly, his smile spreading across his face, tender and genuine. "Nothin', darlin'," he said, his voice calm, gentle, and sincere.

Joel couldn’t fully grasp his feelings, but being with you made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years. He knew this might be wrong, but it felt so good, like a burst of sunlight through storm clouds, casting colors on a world that had been grey for too long. Ever since Sarah and his wife had passed, his life had been a landscape painted in shades of grief and loss. Ellie had brought back some light, but what he felt with you was different, something more vivid, more profound.

His world had been a desolate canvas, splashed with only the darkest hues. But you were the burst of color, the brush of a vibrant dawn, illuminating the shadows that had consumed him. You were his beacon, guiding him from the darkness, painting his existence with the brightest of shades. And though it scared him, it also filled him with a warmth and a hope he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

***

After school, you found yourself in the familiar warmth of the kitchen, the comforting scent of vanilla and sugar filling the air. Your mother, in her element, was bustling around, gathering ingredients for a cake and cookies.

"Can you grab the eggs from the fridge, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice gentle.

You nodded, reaching into the refrigerator. As you handed her the carton, her hand brushed against your back, right where the still-healing bruises were. You flinched, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath.

Your mother's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I'm so sorry. Does..does it still...um hurt?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, Mama, it's okay. It's getting better."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of worry and sorrow. "I know I haven't... I haven't done enough to protect you," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for that. I'm just... I’m so afraid of your father."

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to offer some comfort. "Mama, it's alright. I understand. Let's just focus on the baking, okay?"

Your mother nodded, her relief palpable. She turned back to the counter, trying to regain her composure. "So, have you noticed how Joel’s been coming to church more often lately?"

You tensed slightly at the mention of Joel, careful to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, I noticed."

Your mother smiled, though it was tinged with curiosity. "You know, he’s changed a lot over the years. He used to be so different when Sarah and his wife were alive."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. You knew bits and pieces about Joel’s past but had never heard the full story. "What was he like back then?"

"Joel was a wonderful father and husband. He adored Sarah and Jane," your mother said, her eyes softening with nostalgia. "Jane and I were good friends. They were high school sweethearts, you know. Joel got Jane pregnant in high school, and they got married right after graduation. He worked so hard to provide for them."

You listened intently as your mother spoke, the rhythm of her words blending with the sounds of baking—mixing bowls clinking, the oven humming softly. Joel had never brought up his past daughter and wife when he was with you. It was as if a part of his heart was still locked away, guarded against the pain of revisiting those memories. You felt a mixture of sadness and curiosity, wishing he would open up to you but understanding his need to protect himself from that pain.

As your mother continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Joel’s heart was still closed off, like a house with the windows shuttered, sunlight struggling to seep through the cracks. "After they died, Joel was never the same," your mother said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her memories. "He isolated himself, barely spoke to anyone. He stopped coming to church, buried himself in work and alcohol. It was like the light went out of him."

You continued to bake, your hands moving automatically as you processed your mother's words. The more you learned, the more you understood the layers of grief and resilience that made up the man you had come to care for so deeply.

"Did you know his wife well?" you asked, curious about the woman who had once been such a significant part of Joel’s life. You felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Joel had once opened his heart fully to another woman, something he hadn't done with you yet.

Your mother nodded, her smile tinged with sadness. "Yes, she was one of my closest friends. Jane was kind and loving, always had a smile on her face. They were perfect together. Losing her was a blow Joel never really recovered from."

You felt a pang in your chest, imagining the life Joel had once had—a life filled with love and happiness that was abruptly shattered. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel empathy for him, understanding the depth of his loss and the strength it took for him to keep going.

Your mind swirling with thoughts. Joel had been through so much, yet he found the strength to care for Ellie and, in his own way, for you. He was like a fortress, strong and unyielding, yet vulnerable to the storms that battered him.

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the present. "Since he adopted Ellie, he's shown glimpses of the old Joel. But he still struggles. He’s still grumpy and distant. It was as if he built a wall around himself, shutting out the world to avoid more pain."

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of empathy for Joel. He had been through so much, yet he found a way to care for you and Ellie. "And now he's starting to come back to church," your mother said softly.

"It's good to see him more involved again. He deserves some happiness."

You smiled, though your heart was heavy with the knowledge of what you shared with Joel. "Yeah, he does," you agreed, hoping that somehow, against all odds, you could both find the happiness you deserved.

Your mom glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "I wonder what’s changed in him," she mused. "Maybe he’s finally opening up his heart for another woman."

Your body tensed at her words. She continued, "Ever since he became a widower, there have been plenty of women interested in him. It’s a small town, you know. Everyone knows everything. But he's always been so... cold and distant. Joel is handsome, successful, and a gentleman. Don't tell your father I said that." She chuckled, and you just smile to her.

Inside, you couldn't help but agree. Joel was indeed handsome and a gentleman, so different from your father. Your father, who should have been the epitome of kindness and morality as a preacher, was anything but. His exterior was polished and righteous, but inside, he was rotten. Joel, on the other hand, seemed rough on the outside but was truly good at heart.

Your mother sighed, "It’s good for Joel, though. It’s about time he moved on and built a new life. Maybe he’ll find a nice woman his age, someone who can be a good mother to Ellie. Adam needs his Eve, after all."

Her words made you uncomfortable, a knot forming in your stomach. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joel with someone else. The jealousy gnawed at you, knowing your mother would lose her mind if she ever discovered you were the reason for Joel’s recent change. You also felt a pang of insecurity, realizing how much older Joel was, how he could practically be your father. There were so many women in town who were more age-appropriate for him, attractive and mature, whereas you felt small and insignificant in comparison.

You focused on mixing the batter, trying to push away the uncomfortable thoughts. "Yeah, maybe," you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

Your mother didn't seem to notice your discomfort. She continued to chatter about the town gossip, but your mind was elsewhere. You wondered if Joel ever thought about these things—marry a nice woman and built a new life? You knew he cared for you, but could he see a future with you, or was this just a fleeting moment in his life?

As you finished the cake and placed it in the oven, you couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in your head. Joel was a beacon of light in your life, but the future felt uncertain. You wished you could ask him, but the fear of his answer kept you silent.

The cookies were done baking, and your mother placed them in two jars. "Take these over to Joel’s house and then to Tommy's," she said, handing you the jars and placing them in a sturdy tote bag to make it easier to carry on your bike.

You nodded, appreciating the excuse to see Joel. As you rode your bike through the familiar streets, the wind swept across your face, carrying the sweet scent of summer and the promise of evening. The sky was a canvas of blue and orange, painting a picturesque scene straight out of a movie. You loved this town—the southern charm, the way everyone knew each other—but part of you hated it, longed to escape its confines and the shadows that lurked within your home.

Arriving at Joel’s house, one of the bigger ones in the neighborhood, you parked your bike in the driveway and grabbed one of the cookie jars. Knocking on the door, as you always did instead of using the bell, you expected Ellie to answer since Joel’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.

The door opened, and instead of Ellie, it was Joel standing there. His face softened the moment he saw you.

"Hey, Mr. Miller," you said, deliberately using his formal title to tease him a bit.

Joel chuckled, his eyes warm. "Hey, doll."

You lifted the jar slightly. "Mom sent some cookies. She thought you might like them."

Joel took the jar from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. "Oh, that's nice of her, well, do want to come in?"

"Maybe for a little," You followed him inside, the familiar coziness of his home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Joel set the jar on the kitchen counter and turned to you, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"You alright?" he asked, sensing your unease.

You smiled, trying to brush off your worries. "Yeah, just... thinking about stuff."

Joel stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. His touch was rough but tender, sending shivers down your spine. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, looking up into his eyes. They were deep pools of warmth and safety, and every time you looked into them, you felt like you could melt. "I know," you whispered.

For a moment, you just stood there, lost in each other's gaze. Joel’s eyes held something you couldn’t quite decipher, a mix of emotions that made your heart race. You giggled nervously, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, feeling self-conscious.

Joel shook his head slowly, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Nothin'."

You giggled again. "You have to stop looking at me like that."

Joel raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He's leaning in to kiss you, "Like what?"

You blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Before Joel could kiss you, you both heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Quickly, you stepped away from each other.

"Oh, hey, I thought I heard someone knocking," Ellie said, entering the kitchen.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her. "My mom and I made some cookies, and she sent you some. I thought I’d drop by for a bit."

Ellie grinned and walked over to you and Joel. She glanced at Joel, noticing his slightly flushed face, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, Joel?"

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, just, uh, a bit of dust or somethin'."

Ellie opened the jar and took a cookie. "These are great. Thanks!" She turned to you. Joel took a cookie as well, taking a bite and nodding in approval.

"You made this?" Joel asked, looking impressed.

You blushed a little. "Well, I just helping my mom."

"I take that as a yes and this is good," Joel said, his eyes warm.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth from his compliment.

Ellie turned her attention to you. "So, how’s school? I haven’t seen you much lately."

You shrugged. "Just busy with a lot of things."

Ellie nodded. "I heard you’re in charge of the church dance troupe for the event next week."

"Yeah," you said, smiling.

Ellie smirked playfully. "And I heard Pastor Ben picked you as soon as he saw you. I think he likes you."

Joel’s expression changed, his jaw tightening slightly. "Who's Ben?"

Ellie glanced at Joel, oblivious to his jealousy. "Pastor Ben is the new young pastor who’s going to be taking over while Father Gibson is away for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah," you added. "He’s just helping out while my dad is on a trip to New Orleans for the church."

Ellie nodded enthusiastically. "He's super popular with the girls at school. They all think he’s really handsome."

You laughed lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "He’s just being friendly, Ellie."

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he forced a casual tone. "How old is he?"

"Not sure," Ellie said, shrugging. "Maybe late twenties?"

"Oh," he said.

Joel's face remained impassive, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions. He didn’t want to show too much, to let on how much it bothered him that someone else might have an eye on you. After all, anyone would notice your beauty—your presence was like a beacon, drawing people in with your pure, radiant light. Men and boys alike found themselves captivated by you, your allure almost heavenly. Joel, despite not being religious, found himself silently praying that he could keep you to himself.

He knew that your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep. There was something about you that felt untouched, ethereal—a stark contrast to the gritty world he had come to know. You were his salvation, a glimpse of purity and hope in his otherwise dark and turbulent life.

Ellie changed the subject, sensing the awkwardness. "Anyway, are you excited about leading the dance troupe?"

"Yeah, it should be fun," you replied, grateful for the shift in conversation. "It’s a lot of work, but I think it’ll be worth it."

"Maybe you want to join, Ellie?" you said teasing her, "Oh hell nah," Ellie answered making a disgusting face, you chuckled.

Joel remained quiet, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie. You could tell he was still processing the idea of Pastor Ben, but he seemed to be trying to push it aside.

"Well, thanks for the cookies," Ellie said, taking another bite. "They’re delicious."

"Glad you like them," you said with a smile. "I should probably get going. I need to drop the other jar off at Tommy’s."

Joel’s expression softened as he looked at you. "Let me walk you out," he said. As Ellie remained engrossed in the cookies, Joel gently took your hand, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"When is your father leaving for New Orleans?" Joel asked in a low voice as he guided you towards the door.

"Tonight, around eight," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joel’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can you sneak out tonight?" he whispered, his hand lightly caressing yours.

You smirked and nodded, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

Joel’s eyes darted around, ensuring no one was watching. "I’ll pick you up behind your house at nine," he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and caution. His rough hand felt like a contrast to your soft skin, a stark reminder of the different worlds you both came from, yet a perfect match in this moment.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a combination of anticipation and desire. His touch was electric, sending a rush of warmth through your veins. You wanted to hold onto this feeling, the thrill of the forbidden, the secret moments that were just for the two of you.

Joel leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to your cheek, ensuring no one was watching. You felt your heart race, the sensation of his lips lingering on your skin.

"I’ll see you later," he murmured, stepping back slightly. "Take care."

You nodded, trying to contain your excitement. "You too," you said softly, your voice tinged with the happiness you felt inside.

The whole way to Tommy’s house, you couldn’t stop blushing. Riding your bike, you felt the wind rush past you, the world around you vibrant and alive. The sky was a brilliant canvas of blue and orange, the southern landscape unfolding like a scene straight out of a movie. Each pedal felt lighter, the anticipation of the night ahead filling you with a sense of freedom and exhilaration.

Reaching Tommy’s house, you parked your bike and grabbed the jar of cookies. Knocking on the door, you took a deep breath, the smile on your face unshakeable. Tonight held the promise of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see Joel again.

The house was a quiet, still tableau of ordinary life, its corners cast in the muted hues of nightfall. Your mother’s soft, tired footsteps echoed as she busied herself with the last-minute preparations for your father’s departure. From your vantage point in the dimly lit room, you could hear the rumble of his stern, authoritative voice as he issued his final instructions for his absence.

“Behave yourself, Evelyn. Take care of your duties.” your father’s voice cut through the air like a blade to your mother, “Make sure the house is in order," He said to your mother.

Your mother then called you from downstairs. “Come say goodbye to your father before he leaves.”

You descended the stairs with a heavy heart, each step a reluctant march towards the formality of your father's departure. His figure loomed large in the dimly lit foyer, his stern face illuminated by the flickering light from the chandelier above. The space around him seemed to shrink under the weight of his presence, a constant reminder of his authority and control.

Your father, already dressed in his traveling attire, turned to face you as you approached. His expression was as impassive as ever, his eyes scanning you with a critical gaze that never quite softened. “I expect you to behave while I’m away. Keep things in order, take care of your house duties with your mother and don’t let any mischief slip through. Pastor Ben will be in charge for the next two weeks."

You offered a formal, almost mechanical embrace, your body stiff as you pressed against him. The touch was brief, a quick and emotionless exchange that spoke more of obligation than affection. His words felt like a final checklist, a list of expectations that you had long learned to adhere to.

With a nod, you managed a polite, “Yes, daddy."

As he turned to leave, he gave one last instruction, his voice trailing off as he stepped toward the door. “Remember, be a good Christian girl. Stay close to God. Make sure you’re not a burden to your mother.”

After he had gone, your mother’s weary voice called from the kitchen. “Sweetheart, would you like something to eat? There are leftovers in the fridge. I’m quite tired and I think I'm gonna go to bed early,”

You shook your head, feigning a lack of appetite. “No, I’m full, Mama. I’ll just head to bed.”

“Alright, dear,” she replied, her tone soft but tinged with fatigue. “Don’t forget to pray before you sleep.”

You watched her retreat to her room, her movements slow and burdened. The house felt emptier as she disappeared from view, and you knew it was time to execute your carefully laid plan.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of bed and crept to your window. The night was still and serene, the air cool against your skin as you pushed the window open. The backyard, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, felt like a secret world just waiting to be explored.

You carefully climbed out of the window, landing softly on the grass below. The night sky was a canvas of stars, each one a twinkling reminder of the possibilities that lay beyond the confines of your everyday life. The cool breeze ruffled your hair, carrying with it the scents of the garden—jasmine, freshly cut grass, and the distant promise of freedom.

In the darkness, Joel’s truck waited, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of the night. The vehicle was cloaked in shadows, its lights off to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Your heart raced with anticipation as you approached, the thrill of the forbidden making your steps lighter and faster.

Sliding into the truck, you were greeted by Joel’s familiar presence. His face, partially illuminated by the dim interior light, softened as he saw you. A warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement that you felt.

Before you could say a word, Joel’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a moment of pure, unrestrained connection, the outside world falling away as the heat of his touch enveloped you. The kiss was fervent, a melding of stolen desires and whispered promises, each touch a testament to the intimacy you shared.

Joel’s hands were rough and warm, their contrast to your soft skin sending a shiver through your body. As he pulled away, his eyes held a deep, unspoken affection that spoke louder than any words could. “Hey there, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet cabin.

The truck’s engine roared to life, a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the seats. The world outside seemed to blur as Joel drove through the empty streets, the city lights casting fleeting golden streaks across the windshield. Each streetlamp was a beacon in the darkness, guiding you through a night that felt like a dream.

With every mile that passed, the weight of your ordinary life lifted, replaced by the vivid colors of this stolen moment. The night sky above was a tapestry of dreams and possibilities, a perfect backdrop for the intimate adventure you were embarking upon.

The truck rolled to a gentle stop at the top of a secluded hill, its path winding through the darkened landscape like a secret road leading to a hidden sanctuary. The night sky stretched out above, an endless canvas dotted with twinkling stars, their cold light a delicate contrast to the warm cocoon of the truck's interior. Joel’s touch was a constant comfort, the warmth of his hand against yours a promise of the intimacy you shared.

You and Joel made your way to the truck's open bed, where a soft blanket had been laid out. The fabric was cool beneath you, but the warmth of Joel’s body beside you quickly dispelled any chill. You settled in together, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace as you both lay back to gaze at the sprawling expanse of the cosmos.

The night was a silent witness to your closeness, the stars above flickering like distant, celestial eyes. The moon hung low, casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape, making the moment feel surreal and dreamlike. Joel’s presence was a soothing balm, his breaths steady and calming against the backdrop of the night.

As you both lay there, the peacefulness of the night was punctuated by your conversation. The topics ranged from trivial to profound, each word a thread weaving the tapestry of your shared moment. The serenity of the night made every laugh and whisper seem more intimate, more precious.

Then, Joel’s voice broke the quiet, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. “Tell me more about this Ben,” he asked, his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You chuckled, rolling onto your side to face him. “Ben? Oh, he’s just this new pastor. He’s always paying attention to me, it's weird...my friends keep telling me like he likes me, but he's not really my type. He's...too boyish,” you said, trying to convey your disinterest.

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Boyish? He’s an adult.”

You smiled, playfully snuggling closer. “Yeah, but he’s not you.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with something akin to jealousy, though he quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “Jealous?” you teased, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Joel gave a soft chuckle, his laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the night. “I’m not jealous.”

You continued to tease him, your light-hearted jokes breaking through the quiet night air. Each laugh and playful nudge seemed to draw you both closer, your bond solidified by the shared humor and intimacy of the moment.

However, your mind wandered back to the conversation you’d overheard with your mother. The stories of Joel’s past, of Sarah and Jane, lingered like shadows at the edge of your thoughts. A wave of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension washed over you.

“Joel,” you began tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper, “how come you never tell me about your life?"

"What do you mean, doll?"

"About Sarah and Jane,"

Joel’s body stiffened beside you, his hand retracting from its position on your waist. The shift was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy closeness you’d just shared. His face hardened slightly, a veil of discomfort settling over his features.

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice guarded and distant.

You felt a pang of regret, your heart aching at the sight of his discomfort. The stars above, once a symbol of wonder and possibility, now felt like distant witnesses to a moment of unspoken pain. You struggled to find the right words, the metaphors of your own emotions becoming tangled in the reality of Joel’s guarded heart.

“I...I just want to understand,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I know about your life, but it feels like there’s so much more you haven’t shared.”

"And you knew about mine, all of it," you said again.

Joel’s silence was heavy, a deep, almost tangible weight that pressed against your chest. The night seemed to stretch on forever, the stars above a cold, indifferent audience to the emotions playing out beneath them. The warmth of Joel’s touch was still there, but it now felt like a fragile thread, tenuous and delicate.

Joel’s gaze softened, but the weight of his past seemed to anchor him, pulling him into a place he wasn’t ready to share. “It’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a mixture of regret and sadness. “Some things are just too hard to revisit.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, and you reached out, your voice gentle. “You can open up to me, Joel. I want to listen. You always listen whenever I’m down. I’m here with you,”

Joel’s eyes flickered with a storm of emotions, a mix of frustration and something else, but he remained quiet. You pressed on, your fingers lightly grazing his hand. “Do you ever think about them?"

A tense silence followed, Joel’s expression darkening. He clenched his jaw, struggling with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice strained and edged with anger.

You tried to close the distance, your hand still resting on his. “Joel, it’s okay to open up.”

But before you could say more, Joel’s frustration erupted. “I just don't want to talk about it!” he snapped, his voice sharp and louder than you’d ever heard.

You flinched, your heart racing as the sudden intensity of his reaction hit you. The night, once a haven of comfort and connection, now felt oppressive, the stars above seeming distant and indifferent to the turmoil unfolding below.

Joel’s eyes widened as he saw the fear in your gaze, and his anger dissipated almost immediately, replaced by regret and sorrow. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to steady yourself, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s okay,” you whispered, though your voice wavered. “I’m sorry."

Joel’s face crumpled with remorse, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “No, no, it’s alright,” he said urgently, his hands trembling as they held you close. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace, the warmth of his body a balm against the sharp edges of your fear. Joel’s arms were strong and reassuring, his apologies sincere as he gently stroked your back, his touch a contrast to the harshness of his earlier words.

The night around you seemed to settle, the tension easing as Joel’s grip tightened, holding you as if he could shield you from the weight of his own emotions. The stars above continued to shine, their distant light a reminder of the vastness of the world and the smallness of your own worries in the grand scheme of things.

Joel’s voice was soft now, filled with the weight of his remorse. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...I just can’t talk about it right now.”

You nestled closer against Joel, the warmth of his body enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. “It’s okay, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of the night. “I’m sorry to push you, but I want you to know that I am here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here, just like you are for me.”

Joel’s fingers brushed against your hair, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, a whisper of affection that traveled down to your cheek and finally to your lips. The kiss was brief but sweet, a promise of connection and understanding. He pulled you back into his embrace, both of you gazing up at the star-speckled sky.

The vastness of the night felt like a canvas, stretching out endlessly before you. You could feel the weight of your desires and dreams mingling with the cool night air, and a yearning for freedom began to take shape in your heart. “Joel,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “I want to go out. I want to get away from all of this. Will you come with me one day?”

The sincerity in your voice carried a longing for escape, for a fresh start where the past could no longer cast its shadow. You wanted to run away, to leave behind the chains of hurt and disappointment and start anew with Joel by your side. The dream of leaving it all behind, just the two of you, was intoxicating—a chance to be free from the constraints of your everyday lives and the ghosts of your pasts.

Joel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of determination lighting up his features. He could see the raw honesty in your gaze, the hope that shimmered like the stars above. “I promise you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “one day, we will. We’ll get out of here and start fresh. Just you and me.”

You felt a flutter of relief and happiness at his words, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your heart. The idea of a future together, unburdened by the past, seemed within reach now, a possibility painted against the backdrop of the night sky. Joel’s promise was a beacon of hope, a light guiding you through the darkness.

You lay there, side by side, under the vast expanse of the universe, the stars shining brightly above you. The night felt endless, full of potential and promise. The warmth of Joel’s presence, the softness of his touch, and the certainty of his promise wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making the future seem just a little bit brighter.

In the quiet moments that followed, you allowed yourself to dream of a different life, one where the past was a distant memory and the present was filled with endless possibilities. With Joel by your side, the journey ahead felt less daunting, and the dreams of escape and freedom seemed like they could one day become a beautiful reality.

***

The sun cast a warm, golden light over the school grounds as you and your classmates, including Emma, practiced your dance routines for the upcoming church event. The afternoon air was filled with the sounds of music and the rustle of your movements as you and your friends rehearsed, perfecting every step and spin. The new Pastor Ben, fresh from Mexico with his wife Jemima, observed with an encouraging smile, his presence adding an extra layer of excitement to the practice.

Pastor Ben, young and charismatic, was the center of attention for many of the girls. His charm and good looks had quickly made him popular, and you could see why. Though you knew he was married, the admiration from your friends was palpable. Jemima, his wife, had been less present in the community, focusing on settling into their new life. You hadn’t interacted with her much, and you were more familiar with Ben’s friendly demeanor and the sparkle in his eyes that made him somehow likable among your friends.

As the practice came to a close, you and Emma walked outside the school, discussing the day’s rehearsals and sharing your thoughts on the choreography. The conversation was light-hearted, filled with giggles and the occasional sigh as you both reflected on the challenges and progress made.

Suddenly, Pastor Ben appeared beside you, his presence both surprising and pleasant. “Afternoon, girls. How did the practice go today?” he asked, his attention clearly focused on you.

You could feel the warmth of his gaze as he continued, “Any difficulties? How are you finding the choreography?”

You answered, your voice steady but with a hint of nervousness, “We’re making good progress. There were a few tricky moves, but we’re getting there.”

Ben nodded, his eyes never straying far from you. “You’re doing really well. I’ve noticed you’ve been putting in a lot of effort. It shows.”

Emma, ever the enthusiastic friend, chimed in, “Oh, we’re just working hard! It’s been a lot of fun, though. Don’t you think Pastor Ben has been so encouraging?”

Ben smiled at her but turned his attention back to you. “I’m glad to hear that. I just wanted to check in and see how everyone’s doing. Is there anything you need help with?”

You felt a mix of emotions—flattered by his attention but also a bit uncomfortable given the context of the situation. Ben’s genuine interest was clear, but it was hard not to feel like you were under a spotlight.

“Thank you, Pastor Ben. I think we’re okay for now. It’s just a matter of practice,” Emma said.

He nodded, “If any of you ever need any extra guidance or just want to talk, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m here to help.”

As Pastor Ben walked away, you felt a twinge of relief mixed with lingering confusion. You were still processing the interaction when Ellie’s familiar voice broke through, startling you slightly.

“Oh, that’s Pastor Ben,” Ellie said, a playful tone in her voice. She tapped you on the shoulder, making Emma and you turn to face her.

Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yep, that’s the new hot pastor,"

Ellie looked between you and Emma with a knowing smile. “So, what’s the gossip on Pastor Ben?”

Before Emma could answer, you asked Ellie if she was heading home. Ellie shook her head, her excitement palpable. “Nope, I’m going out with Joel. We’re going to practice shooting. You know, for deer hunting. Joel and I usually do this.”

Just then, the sound of a truck horn pierced the air, and Ellie waved enthusiastically. “Ah, there’s Joel now. See you later, guys!”

You watched as Ellie walked toward the truck, your gaze meeting Joel’s for a brief moment. You tried to hide your blush, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest whenever Joel was near.

Emma then suddenly said, "Ah the town's DILF,"

You choked caught off guard. “What did you just say?”

Emma laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, DILF—‘Dad I’d Like to’—you know the type. Joel’s like the ultimate Southern gentleman. He’s got that rugged charm. He looks like he works with his hands, and I bet he smells like Marlboro Reds. Everyone’s talking about how lucky Ellie is. Goddamn, he's just hot,"

You felt your cheeks flush deeper, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “Emma, stop. He’s much older than us.”

Emma raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh come on, you’re telling me you’ve never thought about Joel that way? I mean, he’s your dad’s best friend in high school, but just tell me you have right?”

You glared at Emma, trying to hide the twinge of jealousy you felt. “Emma, that’s inappropriate."

Emma pouted in mock innocence. “Oh, come on! Don’t be so uptight. We’re just talking. I’m sure you’ve had some thoughts, especially with how close you are with Joel right?"

You shook your head, trying to suppress the tumult of emotions bubbling inside you. “Seriously, Emma, I don’t want to talk about this.”

Emma grinned, undeterred. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. But you have to admit, Joel’s a pretty interesting guy.”

You gave her a half-smile, trying to brush off the teasing. “Emma..."

Emma’s grin remained as she walked alongside you, her excitement infectious despite your lingering discomfort. You both made your way home, your thoughts tangled with the events of the day.

As you approached your house, Emma’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey, you know what? My parents are out tonight. How about a sleepover at my place? We can hang out and have some fun. It’ll be a nice break before graduation.”

You hesitated, “I don’t know, Em. I’ve got a lot to prepare for graduation.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. Jim will be there too, and he’s a blast. Plus, you’ll have me to keep you entertained. What’s the harm?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your reluctance. “I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

Emma’s expression softened as she playfully pleaded. “Oh, please. It’ll be fine. Just come hang out. If you don’t, my parents might not let Jim over if it's just both of us. Pretty please?”

You sighed, weighing your options. Emma’s persistence was hard to resist, and you knew it would be a good chance to take your mind off things. “Alright, alright. I’ll come. But let me ask my mom first.”

Emma’s face lit up with joy. “Yes! Thank you! I promise we’ll have a great time.”

As you walked inside your house, you found your mom in the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner for herself. The smell of food filled the air, a comforting reminder of home.

“Mom, Emma invited me to a sleepover at her house tonight,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Is it okay if I go?”

Your mom looked up, her face reflecting mild surprise but also understanding. “A sleepover? Well, I suppose it’s fine. Just be sure to come home early tomorrow."

You nodded, relieved by her response. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back early.”

With your mother’s approval, you quickly gathered your things and headed back outside to meet Emma. Her excitement was palpable as she waited for you by the front gate.

“Great! Let’s go!” Emma chirped, grabbing your hand and leading the way.

As you walked to Emma’s house, your mind was still clouded by the earlier events. The thought of spending the evening with Emma and Jim was a welcome distraction from the swirl of emotions you had been feeling. You hoped it would be a chance to relax and clear your head before facing whatever came next.

Hours later, the three of you were lounging in Emma’s cozy living room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. After an exciting board game session, you settled down to watch "Gone with the Wind." Emma and Jim sat close together on the couch, their whispered conversations blending with the movie's dialogue. You tried to focus on the screen, but their growing intimacy was hard to ignore.

Emma giggled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over just in time to see them exchanging a tender kiss. Their kisses grew more passionate, and soon they were making out fervently. You turned your attention back to the movie, trying to block out the sounds of their affection, but it was no use.

"I'm going to take Jim to my bedroom," Emma said, her cheeks flushed. "Is it okay if you stay here alone?"

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Yeah, it's fine. I want to finish the movie anyway."

Emma smiled and led Jim to her room, leaving you alone in the dimly lit living room. The hours passed slowly, the film a distant backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Their muffled voices and occasional moans filtered through the walls, filling you with a mix of curiosity and discomfort.

The next morning, you woke early and decided to make breakfast for everyone. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the kitchen as you worked. Emma was the first to join you, her hair tousled and eyes bright.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said, giving you a warm smile. “Did you have fun playing board games last night?”

You returned her smile, feeling a genuine sense of friendship. "Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for inviting me."

Emma smiling to you, "You're a good friend," you smiled at her.

You hesitated at first, then asked the question that had been on your mind. "So, uh... about last night... did you and Jim...?"

Emma blushed slightly but didn't shy away. "You mean, am I not a virgin anymore? Yes. and I'm really in love with Jim. He's so kind and supportive. We’re thinking about getting married after we graduate, moving to a big city like Austin or Houston to start our lives together. He can work in a garage, and I'll stay home."

Her words made you think of Joel, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. "Have you ever been in love?" Emma asked, noticing your pensive expression.

“I don’t know,” you replied hesitantly. “I think about someone a lot, but I’m not sure what it means.”

“And have you ever... you know, had sex?” Emma asked.

Your body tensed, the memory of Jamie’s forceful actions coming to mind. You decided to lie and shook your head.

“Typical preacher’s daughter, stay pure, hon,” Emma said, her tone sincere rather than mocking.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity. “How does it feel like?”

Emma’s expression softened. “Well, when you’re with someone you truly care about, it can be really special. It’s not just about the physical aspect, but the emotional connection. It’s like sharing something deeply personal with someone you love and who loves you back. It can feel very intimate and fulfilling.”

You nodded, trying to understand her words. “But isn’t it scary? Does it hurt?”

Emma smiled gently. “It can be, especially the first time. But when you’re with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe, it’s a lot easier. It’s important that you feel comfortable and loved.”

You took in her words, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “What if I’m not ready for that yet?”

Emma reassured you. “That’s completely okay. There’s no rush. It’s important to wait until you feel ready and comfortable. And remember, there are other ways to show affection and care for someone.”

You felt a bit of relief. “Like what?”

Emma leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. “Like, for example, giving him oral pleasure. It’s a way to show that you care about him and want to make him feel good. But it’s really important that you’re comfortable with whatever you choose to do. Communication and mutual respect are key in any relationship.”

You blushed, feeling a mix of curiosity and embarrassment. “I don’t know much about that. It sounds kind of… complicated.”

Emma smiled warmly. “It can seem that way, but you’ll learn what feels right for you and your partner as you go along. The most important thing is to have open conversations and make sure you’re both on the same page.”

You nodded, absorbing her advice. “Thanks for explaining."

Emma’s words lingered in your mind as you processed what she had said. The idea of intimacy was something you hadn’t explored deeply, shaped by the teachings you’d grown up with. Your father’s sermons had painted it as an ultimate sin, a taboo wrapped in layers of guilt and religious doctrine. The notion of sex had always been shadowed by the fear of moral failure, a breach of sacred promises that could never be undone.

Emma’s perspective, however, was a stark contrast. She spoke of intimacy as a beautiful, shared experience between two people who cared deeply for each other. It wasn’t just a physical act but a manifestation of affection and connection. It was a way to express love, to show that you cherish someone in the most personal and vulnerable way.

You thought about Joel, and how his kindness had touched you. His presence was like a gentle light breaking through a stormy sky—offering warmth, comfort, and a sense of security you had rarely felt before. The idea of pleasing him, of sharing something deeply intimate, seemed like a way to express your gratitude, to show him how much you valued his care and support.

It was as if you were standing at the edge of a beautiful, uncharted garden, its entrance hidden behind a veil of mist and uncertainty. The garden represented a space of connection, where the blossoms of affection and mutual respect could flourish. The thought of stepping into this garden with Joel was both thrilling and daunting. It was a step into the unknown, where the flowers of shared experiences and emotional intimacy awaited.

You contemplated the possibility of finding a way to share this garden with Joel, to offer him a gesture of affection that went beyond words. Maybe through a physical expression of care, you could bridge the gap between your feelings and his, creating a shared space where love could grow and flourish.

Emma’s reassurance and gentle explanations provided a new perspective, one that allowed you to see intimacy not as a forbidden act but as a potential expression of love and appreciation. You wondered if perhaps, in time, you could navigate this new terrain with Joel, guided by mutual respect and deep affection.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 9 | chapter 10

You had always thought being betrothed to the one you love would finally make you happy. The one you'd remember as you grew old. A memory you'd cherish forever.

Yet you never thought it would be a complete torture — wanting someone who doesn't want you. Not even a bit.

Queen Mother Cersei continued to ignore you through the days that come, as if you were a common guest in the Red Keep. Queen Margaery however, were already talking nonstop with you, asking how the two of you first met and interacted with each other.

Everyone had apparently heard the news. Tommen had avoided you. Jaime looked bitter everytime you saw him at dining halls and hear his father Lord Tywin discuss your engagement to Cersei and where to hold such event.

The Tyrells did not take it lightly at first, but knowing Ser Loras' character, the decision was for the best. In fact, the Tyrell Lord was happy he was set free from marrying the vicious queen, he'd always talk about inviting you both to see Highgarden to spend time as newlyweds.

Of course, there was always the talk about your sexuality and your special appendage, and you knew Cersei was shamed about all of it as she kept shoving glass of wine into her mouth, as if she needed to be drunk for that kind of conversation. You knew then her father meant this proposal as her punishment. And yours.

Tommen was crowned as King the following day, finally diminishing the gossip.

Yet, the continuing appearance of Jaime inside Cersei's chambers, or along side her at times, never not following her, only made your blood boil. Even after the engagement, he knew how to make you furious, he knew what was your weakest point.

One time you even stopped Jaime by holding unto his fake hand, making him almost stumble. He was about to follow Cersei into her chambers once again. You knew he was part of the Kingsguard, yet it didn't sit well on you for him to guard Cersei. You'd request Lord Tywin to change that once you had the courage.

"What are you doing?" you spat, glaring at the golden haired man.

"Following the Queen—"

"You don't have to do that," you interjected, maintaining your hold. "I trust another loyal Kingsguard can do your job."

He then laughed. "Are you jealous I might start another scandal?"

"You—"

"He's my Queensguard and my brother, Lady Y/n," Cersei spoke, making you both glance her way. "Let him go."

You swallowed a lump in your throat before your grasp weaken.

~~~

"I hear congratulations are in order," Tyrion said, laughing. "Here I thought you had listened to my advice. Yet you had to wear the noose or lay your head down unto the guillotine."

You sighed as you looked at the ground, kicking dirt after dirt. With nothing else to do and nowhere else to hide, you decided to visit Tyrion in his cells in the castle's dungeons.

"I . . . I don't know what I'm going to do," you said. "I . . . I have sent a raven to ask for my father's help. She . . . She doesn't . . . doesn't return my feelings."

"See, I told you she's cruel."

"I . . . I have loved her, you know. I . . . I know she has done terrible things in life, but I. . . I still find myself at a loss of words around her. My heart would still skip a beat every time she's near me. And I hate it. She's . . . She's my weakness and I hate it."

Tyrion looked at you sympathetically. "She's always adored when she doesn't deserve it."

You only stayed silent. Tyrion observed your dilemma and sighed. "I was once betrayed by the one I truly loved."

You glanced at him. "Surely you're not talking about Sansa—"

"No, no." He laughed. "Shae. She's a whore. I fell in love with a whore. And I truly believed my feelings were reciprocated. I should've trusted my gut that it was all a farce. I thought she was different. I thought she'd love a dwarf like me. Funny how that turned out when she told the court the other day how I was guilty in killing Joffrey."

You both stayed silent for a moment, regretting about your past actions.

"I mean, it can't be that bad, right?" you asked expectantly. "Marrying Cersei."

"She'd torment you, of course."

He coughed, leaning against the wall. "I want to feel sorry for you though. However, I might no longer be there to give my sympathies."

"What do you mean?"

"I requested for a trial by combat as a result of betrayal in court," he began. "And Cersei picked the Mountain as her champion."

You stared at him in disbelief. "The Mountain?"

The Mountain. Gregor Clegane. He was the largest, strongest and most feared man in Westeros. No one had ever outmatched him.

"You see, Y/n. When my sister hates someone, she'd do everything in her power to get rid of them. I have lost Bronn to my father's nicer offers. I lost my brother Jaime to Cersei even since birth, but I doubt he can even fight with one hand against the Mountain."

"What are you going to do then?"

"Well, Y/n," he said, smiling weakly. "I have always enjoyed having our talks, no matter how brief. But I believe this is goodbye."

~~~

You were heading back to your chambers when you accidentally bumped into Jaime only coming out from Cersei's. It made you push him against the nearby wall and clutch his armor.

You were envy, it wasn't a question anymore. You couldn't decipher how attached the twins were, and how no one could intervene.

"What do you think you're doing inside? Queensguard are supposed to stay outside the doors."

He chuckled, making you let him go. "She's in a good mood right now, Y/n. Don't try to break it."

"You—"

"I told you we have each other's backs no matter what," he went on in a whisper. "I know you'll be married one day. And one day, Cersei will finally bear another child. I'm sure you couldn't help but wonder once your son or daughter would be born with golden hair," he leaned closer into your ear, "Would it be yours or mine? Robert didn't notice. But I know you're clever enough to see."

The argument stopped when Cersei stepped out the door of her chambers. Your gazes met, and somehow underneath you could still see the Cersei you had known the past couple of weeks. And you knew then you had to let her go. For your own sanity. And hers.

What was once a hardened gaze softened as you stepped away from the Knight.

"Your Grace." You bowed at Cersei before hurriedly leaving.

~~~

You had avoided the Lannisters the following days. It was the only way you could move forward without getting affected. You knew you had to face them one day, but at the moment, you'd savor the time away from them.

At dinners, your seat was always empty, making Lord Tywin ask Oberyn of your daily activities.

You had found a secluded place in the Capital, one that's rarely visited. You could see the entire King's Landing from where you sat and wondered how you wanted to leave that place, how you wouldn't want to be tied down to Cersei in such a depressing place.

If she could only love you, her love would make this view bearable. But she didn't. She wouldn't.

You were still waiting for your father's response to your letter. The violent way was to offer Princess Myrcella, Cersei's daughter, in exchange. But you doubted Tywin would see that as a threat. And you knew you wouldn't choose that way anyway.

You met with Tyrion in his cells later that night when a certain idea finally came to you.

It was the only thing keeping you sane as you finally made your presence known inside the Red Keep. Oberyn even wondered why you were suddenly enthusiastic out of nowhere.

And even when you saw Cersei and Jaime as they entered the dining halls together, you didn't let it affect you. Oblivious of the way Cersei's eyes widened when she saw you at your seat, you went on talking to Margaery about her upcoming marriage to Tommen. You then could see why Cersei never liked Margaery. She was a parasite. And she thought you were too, marrying the Queen Mother and all.

~~~

Offer him Castle Yronwood. He'd set you free from the arrangement.

Yronwood. The castle you won fighting against the lords from the Stormlands when you were young. It was the reply your father sent to your raven.

You knew you had to offer it to Tywin to set you and Cersei free. She wouldn't ever have to marry anyone she doesn't like. She wouldn't have to marry you.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn't notice Cersei approaching you in the balcony.

You greeted and stepped back as she approached the railing and stared at the horizon.

The Queen would always stay beautiful in your eyes, no matter how ugly she was inside.

"Can't sleep?"

You shook your head. "Been thinking a lot."

She snorted a soft chuckle. "Aren't we all these days?"

You smiled at the horizon. There was a long silence before you spoke, "Don't you feel like running away from all this?"

"To where?"

"Anywhere."

"Having cold feet?"

And you laughed, realizing she was referring to your marriage.

"I am not," you managed to reply. "It would be an insult to deny your hand, Your Grace."

She looked at you. "Why are you still nice to me when I'm nothing but awful to you?"

You fell silent as you avoided her gaze. She went on. "Kindness is a weakness, Y/n. For women like us. You should know that by now."

You could see Jaime on the grounds below, talking at another Kingsguard and when you finally looked at Cersei, she was also looking at him. And if your heart could only break more, it would.

"I am cold," you announced as you shivered, stepping away from the Queen. "I'm heading back inside. And I suggest you do too, Your Grace. It won't be wise to catch a cold these days."

"Y/n?"

You stopped in your tracks. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Nothing happened between me and Jaime," she said, making you glance at her. She sported a genuine look in her face. Yet, you didn't know if you should believe her or not. Maybe, she did care for you. Or maybe she's scared you'd tell her father about it.

But what was the difference if she was saying the truth. She didn't want you. She'd never love you. She hadn't ever loved you once. And you knew that now.

"It's okay, Cersei." You gave her a weak smile before leaving.

~~~

"What the seven hells is this, Y/n?" Oberyn's yell surprised you when you entered the breakfast hall where the Martells dine the next morning. Ellaria was holding back his hand as if to control his temper. But you knew, she had no chance of doing that.

You then looked at the scroll he threw at you, giving him a sarcastic smile before reading the contents.

"Your father would kill me, Y/n!" he said. "The Mountain would kill you."

Yes, you had offered yourself as Tyrion's champion for his upcoming trial.

"I had to help him, Oberyn. Someone has to help him—"

"It doesn't have to be you!"

"Come on, my dear," Ellaria interrupted, rubbing Oberyn's chest to calm him down. "I'm sure Y/n can still back down-"

"And let the innocent man die? There's no justice in the world unless we make it."

You had never seen Oberyn this furious before. And you were at the receiving end. He then looked around the soldiers and ordered, "Leave us."

You then added once the Dornish soldiers had left, "Besides, Cersei won't get to marry me if I die—"

"You can't die, Y/n. Not in my watch. I won't let you die," he said with gritted teeth.

"Thank you for your support. I can fight well on my own—"

"The Mountain has his own mind. He only knows two things, and that is to kill and kill."

"I've fought worse enemies than him, you know that, Oberyn."

"You can't die because you are one of the rightful heirs to the throne," he said in a whisper.

"What?"

"You're my brother Doran's bastard daughter."

"Our cousin Prince Doran? You must be losing your mind."

"He had an affair before Robert's Rebellion, before the Mad King became madder. And Doran had no idea, of course. Still has no idea. For he would have given you away, Y/n. Your mother hid you under her Maester's care in the Capital, but before your mother left for Dragonstone, she sent for me to take you to Dorne. Me and Elia took you to Y/f/n, a distant relative of ours, under your father's care."

"Why would he give me away?"

"Because your house was meant to be removed from existence. Because you weren't supposed to be alive. Your mother is none other than Rhaella Targaryen."

[xlocalxpunkx]

I’m Your Man, 18+

Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB! Reader

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of abuse, established relationship, toxic! Cheater! Logan, crying, breaking up, death, mentions old man! Logan, sexual themes, 18+, no pronouns used but you do have his kid so afab, trust the process pls

Summary: Logan is wallowing as he ages about his regretful relationship with you. He begs you to take him back after years have passed.

Inspo: I’m Your Man- Lucas Silveira

If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to

It all started gradually. Your relationship with Logan was odd when you first met him. He was a cage fighter. You attended those fights with your abusive ex. The nights usually ended badly, your ex never seeming to want to bid on Logan’s behalf despite his reputation. The night they had lost their bet after almost 10 days in a row, they had turned their anger on you. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. Logan had stepped in, and almost killed them. He couldn’t stand seeing such a darling thing like you get beat on for no fucking reason. From then on, you were inseparable. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Logan took you with him.

And if you want another kind of love, I'll wear a mask for you

Logan didn’t want a relationship with you. You were his friend; compassionate, loving, doting. He could hear your heart beat race when you were near him. He could smell you when your blood soared downward. He couldn’t resist the temptation though. Your hands snaked through his hair, drunk from the bar he was fighting at that night. The heated kiss you shared changed everything. You were embarrassed about it the next day, but Logan brushed it off. He didn’t want to ruin what you two had, or draw you into his hellscape life.

If you want a partner, take my hand

The day Logan asked you to be his, you practically screamed in excitement. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face. He chuckled, holding you against him. Your scent calmed him down. He would hold you forever if he could. You were his, he was yours. He would show it every time you were out. Holding your hand, your waist, whatever he could touch on you. Almost as if he was making sure you were real, despite being right in front of him. You knew his mutation, you had no fear of him. You were a mutant too, after all. Not as equipped as him, but you could make plants grow. It added literal life to your life. It was calming for you.

Or if you want to strike me down in anger, here I stand

Months and months together, Logan’s demeanor changed. He was loving one moment, vicious the next. You had intimate moments with him, vulnerable ones. Each time he opened up to you, each time you got a little closer to the enigma of Logan Howlett, he pushed you away. Screaming, snappy remarks, taking others and making you wait outside a motel room you shared in the cold. You listened to every minute of it, wondering what you did wrong to deserve this. You’d grow flowers in the dirt outside, twisting their petals and asking yourself why. Everything he could do to push you away, he did.

I'm your man

The day he found you crying in the bathroom because of him, he knew he needed to stop. Something in him wouldn’t let him though. He screamed at you, telling you that you were worthless. That you were the worst thing to ever happen to him. The opposite was true, but Logan didn’t want you to know that he’d do anything for you. That with one word, he’d wipe out all of humanity and the mutants for you. That night, you walked out that door, never wanting to see Logan ever again. His handsome face, his broad shoulders, his defined torso. Everything about him disgusted you.

If you want a boxer, I will step into the ring for you

Logan threw himself into the fights after that. He didn’t care. After you left, he had absolutely nothing. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t die. Sometimes he’d throw a fight, just to feel pain, and it didn’t do anything but reveal his abilities and make him skip to the next town. That was where he found Rogue. That was when he ended up at the mansion.

And if you want a doctor, I'll examine every inch of you

Charles had brought in a patient after a rough mission. You were battered, injured and bloody from a fight with human mutant-exterminators. They had stalked you, figured out you were just a ‘tree-hugger’ but when they tried to attack you, a rage you hid for so long released itself. You killed all of them. Every single one. They kept coming, and coming, yet you drove them back. When Logan heard Jean talking about a patient, who sounded suspiciously like you, he asked if he could check in on you. He only wanted to confirm his curiosity, not telling the rest of them what his thoughts were. Charles knew. He only hoped you would be okay to see him, hoping you could help the Wolverine more than he could.

If you want a driver, climb inside

You felt claustrophobic in the mansion. He was there when you woke up. He was always there. Wandering around the mansion, you knew he was only 15 feet behind you. Surrounded by people worshipping the ground your now ex walked on. He remained a stand-offish asshole to everyone, saving a snide remark for Scott every now and then. He was brisker than usual, angrier. You wouldn’t talk to him. That was, until you had a panic attack at 2 A.M. You were hyperventilating, on the verge of collapse. Logan had heard it, and came to your rescue. You found yourself clinging to his broad frame, crying into his tank top. You were sobbing and shaking. He offered to take you for a drive, roll the windows down and let you get some fresh air. You felt at peace in his familiar truck. You almost forgot everything he did to you. A low, “I’m sorry… for everything, love.” whispered into the wind. You gave no response.

Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can, 'cause I'm your man

The two of you bonded over the next year at the mansion. Logan made every move he could to make up what he did to you. He brought you flower seeds, your favorites, for you to grow. He made you food. He comforted you after your nightmares and calmed you down when your anxiety got the best of you. A sweet moment, the two of you alone in the common room at midnight after another bout of nightmares between you both. Hand in hand, a slow moving love. Logan was the best you ever had, and still is. The gentle kisses, the soft grips, you truly thought he had changed.

Ah, the moons too bright, the chains too tight

Logan didn’t know what it was about committing to you that made him so scared. He didn’t want to put a label on what you had. He shouldn’t have done it. He really shouldn’t have. When you walked in on him kissing Jean, you didn’t know why you didn’t expect it to happen. He had done this before. You slapped him, screamed at him like you never had the courage to before. You left the mansion, going back out on your own. Charles refused to locate you, to tell Logan you were safe. You were fine, especially without him.

The beast won't go to sleep

Logan couldn’t sleep after you left. He laid awake in the bed he once shared with you. Regret and sorrow filled his body, shame filled his soul. He didn’t know why he was like this. He refused to touch another woman after that. He wanted you, only you. Being celibate was easy enough. Most women don’t like being compared to someone outright to their face. He was deliberately an asshole, even to Jean.

I've been running through these promises to you, that I made and could not keep

He looked back on every promise he made you. Every ‘I’ll get better’, ‘I won’t do it again, yet he continued to do it. Only once you left, did he seem to realize what you meant to him. You stayed for years, despite his behavior. You took him back once, but he knows you would never take him back again. Maybe if he was dying, but he wasn’t dying anytime soon. He missed you; your smile, your smell, your hair. Fuck, he missed everything about you.

Ah, but a man never got a woman back, not by begging on his knees

As Logan aged, his regenerative abilities wearing off, he yearned to have you by his side. He wanted love. The true, pure love you had already showed him, but he was too young and naive to take. He wanted nothing more than to find you, to live out the rest of his life with you. To have you in the mornings, nights, and afternoons. To sleep by your side, to eat by your side, to be next to you. All he could think about was you.

I'd crawl to you, baby, and I'd fall at your feet

While he was doing his job as a chauffeur, Logan thought he caught a glimpse of you. Your back turned to him, sitting at a table by yourself. You were drinking coffee, playing with the petals of a singular flower. He slammed on his brakes. Luckily, he didn’t have a passenger. He pulled over into a parking lot. Quickly, he climbed out of the vehicle. A wicked grin spread across his features with every step he took towards you. You barely looked any different. A few lines around your eyes and mouth, showing you had aged just as he had. He tentatively took a few more steps towards you, gently asking, “Is this seat taken?”.

You were taken aback by the familiar voice. You had almost forgotten the shivers it sent down your spine. “What’re you doing here?” You questioned. When you turned to him, expecting the once young man you had left, and saw the rugged, bearded old man in front of you, you gasped. He nodded, looking down, ashamed to see the hurt in your eyes still upon seeing him.

“Saw you, wanted to say hello. I understand if you don’t want me around. I’ll leave.” He stated, quietly. You could see the sadness in him, the loneliness. He had aged, aged well, but still aged. He seemed tired, the grooves in his face deep and eye bags prominent. You were both too old to care about what happened in this past anymore.

“Join me.” You commanded. You tapped the table for the seat across from you. Logan gave you a soft smile, gingerly taking the seat. The two of you caught up. He told you everything that happened from the minute you left the mansion to why he was here talking to you now. He told you about the adamantium poisoning, how he was aging. He told you about Charles. You told him about your life, everything about it and how you had missed him.

I'd howl at your beauty, like a dog in heat

You had given Logan your cell phone number in case he needed someone to talk to, to vent to. You reckoned he would never use it, but still, the offer stood. Logan kept playing in his head what to text, when to text. It had been a few weeks before you heard from him again. Your phone pinged,

‘You are still as beautiful as the day you left’

A choked smile spread across your face. Despite everything, Logan still gave you butterflies. He could make you blush, even as you got old. You took the initiative, texting him, asking him to meet up for drinks. Your heart spun, excited to him again.

And I'd claw at your heart, I'd tear at your sheets

The night you met for drinks, he clung to your side. Just like he used to do, hand on your waist, knees touching yours. When you got tipsy and one of your hands found its way into petting his hair, he couldn’t help the moan that let out at the physical contact. He hadn’t touched anyone since you left. He hasn’t cuddled or been loved. You suppressed giggles, before returning to his hair again. You took him to your home as midnight drew closer. With promises of a comfy couch to crash on and breakfast in the morning, Logan couldn’t refuse the offer. Somehow, someway, you ended up in bed together. Whether it was drunk or true intentions, you both enjoyed yourself more than you have in years.

I'd say please, please, 'cause I'm your man

When you awoke, you were curled up into the large man’s side. Head on his chest, you listened to his soft snores. His arm wrapped around you, bringing you closer to him. You smiled, closing your eyes again. The next time you woke up, it was because of Logan twitching. A grunt. A snarl. You gently shook him awake. His eyes snapped open, claws unsheathing. He relaxed the minute he realized it was you, putting the claws away. He pulled you to him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist like his were your back. You felt hot, wet tears hit the top of your head.

“I’d do anything for you, anything, to keep you here.” He whispered. You didn’t respond.

And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road, I will steer for you

You let Logan drive you to his place, not far from yours. He was resting his arm against the open window, head lolling into his hand. He accidentally zoned out, almost falling asleep. You could see how tired he was. When you got there, no one else seemed to be there. He sat down on his couch. You sat next to him. He grabbed ahold of you, pulling you to him. He fell asleep again, holding you in his arms. Snores filled the room, luring you to sleep with him.

And if you want to work the street alone, I'll disappear for you

You woke up before him. Untangling from his arms, he must sleep deeper with his age now. You manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. You walked back to your house, questioning everything you were feeling about the man you had spent so many years hating and regretting. Logan woke up eventually, worry filling him when he noticed you weren’t with him anymore. He had to respect your wishes though, he left you alone. The worry filled him wouldn’t allow him to. He followed you, watching you. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

And if you want a father for your child

Logan continued to follow you for days on end. When he passed your house, seeing a vehicle he didn’t recognize, jealousy panted in his heart. A young boy walked out of your house. He was shocked, to say the least. He didn’t believe you liked younger men. You walked out a few minutes after him, smiling and laughing. You walked the young man to his car, even opening the door for him. You hugged him. Logan felt stupid, stupid for watching you, stupid for thinking he had a chance with a person like you. Logan almost drove off, but you spotted him before he could. He sighed, making his way out of his car. The way your face fell upon seeing him. The young man looked at Logan, then at you, then questioned who he was.

He walked up to the two of you. He could now clearly see the young man in front of him. He looked a lot like himself, actually; thick eyebrows, dark brown hair, honey hazel eyes. Yet, he had your nose, your smile. Realization dawned on Logan before you could get the words out.

“Son, this is… well, this is Logan.” You stuttered out. Your son’s eyes widened. He nodded, sticking his hand out to shake the larger man’s hand. Logan grasped it, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Logan stated, a warm smile on his face. You glanced between the two, noting the tension in the air. You nodded to your son, giving him permission to leave. He got in his car, pulling out of your drive way. He waved goodbye to you and Logan, driving off.

“You never told me.” Logan said.

“It was years ago. I was pregnant when I left the mansion, I didn’t know it yet.” You responded, leaving it at that.

Or only want to walk with me a while, across the sand, well I'm your man

Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had a son. He could have had a family, something he yearned for his entire life but figured he could never have. You didn’t tell him when you were telling him about your life. Even with the confusion and disappointment, when you grabbed his hand, pulling him with you to walk in your neighborhood, he couldn’t help the smile that graced his features. The feeling of warmth in his heart was all he had to know that it didn’t matter you kept it from him. He’d build a relationship with his son, with you, with his family. He’d introduce you to Laura. He would do anything to grow old with you. He wanted a future with you, for as long as he could live. He didn’t know when the adamantium poison would take him, but he knew he would let you be by his side the entire time. As long as you would have him, he’d be your man.

A/N: listened to this song and couldn’t help myself, please behead me