#team trail and error

[imaginedisish]

Heroes (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I think I used David Bowie's "Heroes" for another fic when I first started writing on this blog. Oh well. We're using it again bc it inspired this fic. This is a combo request fic: Co-teachers/Logan having a nightmare/smut. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are assigned by Charles to co-teach a class to learn how to work as a team. You expect Logan to be cold, distant, short. What you don't expect is the way you find yourself needing him, and him needing you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft!Logan, cocky!Logan (always), softdom!Logan vibes, implied age gap (Logan is obvi older), frenemies to lovers, feelings, some violence (Logan accidentally hurts the reader while having a nightmare), reader has regenerative powers, fluff, hurt to comfort (literally), reader has family trauma, afab!/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 5,267 kinda wanna do a part 2 this was cute

“I work better alone Charles. You know that.” 

You and Logan Howlett never did see eye to eye. 

“Yes, Logan. Which is why I’m giving you this challenge.”

He was always cold. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Always distant. 

“Hence why it is an excellent idea, Logan.”

But you never thought he’d be this resistant to teaching a class with you. 

“I’m fine with it,” you say, your eyes flitting between Logan and Charles. “It doesn’t faze me at all.”

Logan’s leather jacket crinkles and he puts his hands on his hips. He furrows his brows. “You’re fine with this?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why not.” Your eyes find Logan’s, but you can’t make out the expression on his face. Can’t tell if it’s dislike, pure hatred, or something else altogether. 

“This can’t happen,” Logan insists, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning towards the Professor. His words sting and you’re not quite sure why—not sure why you should care about this at all. 

“It is too late,” Charles’s voice booms. “I have already decided. You will co-teach a history class for...” Charles trails off, choosing his words carefully. “Younger students.”

You smile, but Logan rolls his eyes, his brows still furrowed. “How young?” You say in unison, although in starkly different tones. You whip your head to face Logan and find that his eyes are already on you.  

“Ages six to seven,” Charles explains. “This will be a smaller class, given how rare it is for children of that age to show their abilities, and the course will be incredibly simple.” He rolls away from behind the desk and approaches you and Logan in the center of the room. “I have faith that the two of you can handle this.”

Logan exhales deeply but doesn’t say a word. “We can,” you answer, your stare breaking away from Logan and turning to the Professor instead. “I look forward to teaching the class,” you pause, “with Logan.”

Something in Logan’s glare softens. His frown slowly disappears, melting away. His jaw relaxes, and his shoulders go slack. “Fine.” He’s curt, but something about the resolve in his voice gives you an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe this will go well. 

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This is, in fact, not going well at all. 

Agreeing on the curriculum was not a problem. Logan, having experienced most of U.S. History, believes in telling history as it happened. No rose-colored glasses. No murky half-truths or prettily wrapped white lies. No weird Christopher Columbus-themed arts and crafts. Having seen multiple wars and experiencing the power of government exploitation firsthand—not surprisingly—has made Logan progressive.

So, you had designed an age-appropriate, honest, curriculum. You were shocked at how well you and Logan worked together. You shared quiet hours in the library, passing scribblings and notes back and forth while pouring over books. You actually felt quite confident. 

That is, until the very first class. 

You and Logan had only just introduced yourselves—written your names on the board. 

“We are going to have a fun, educational year,” you finish, smiling widely. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young girl in the center of the room raises her hand. You nod towards her, and she smiles sheepishly. “Are you two married?”

You’re taken back, your brows furrowing. “Oh, um—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. His shortness hurts more than you’re willing to admit. “Absolutely not.” 

The little girl’s eyes widen. “But then why do you look at her like that?”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks, his voice a little too harsh. “Like what, kid?”

“Logan,” you whisper, turning to face him. “She’s six. Let it go,” you chide. “Professor Logan and I are friends and co-teachers. That’s all.” You turn back to the little girl, who nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. 

The rest of the class goes relatively well. It’s very introductory—teaching the children how mutant history and human history are intertwined. You and Logan are able to simplify things for the children so that they can understand. And, as the class goes on, Logan seems more comfortable with the children. 

The period is almost over when a little boy raises his hand, and Logan calls on him. “My older brother told me people like us are scary,” he says shyly. His eyes are sad—too tired for a six-year-old. “He told me that we shouldn’t exist.”

Your stomach drops, tears burning behind your sinuses. You think back to your own family, back to the trauma of being disowned for something you couldn’t control. You’re too heartbroken to tackle the question. Logan’s eyes flicker between you and the little boy. 

“Your brother is wrong,” Logan answers, crossing the room to stand next to you. He brings a hand to your lower back. It’s the ghost of a touch, but it’s a lifeline. “You’re special,” Logan says, and you know he’s talking to you, too. “You all are. Don’t listen to what they say. You’re more important than you’ll ever know. More extraordinary than they can understand.”

The bell rings, and the children stand, collecting their belongings. “See you all tomorrow,” Logan shouts over the shuffling and ruckus in the hallway. The children file out the door, jumping and cheering as if nothing happened. 

“They’re so resilient,” you say, shaking your head and watching them leave. You look over to Logan—his face close to yours, his palm still pressed against your back. 

“So are you,” he whispers, smiling softly, rubbing up and down your back. “You did great.”

“Yes, she did. And you did too, Logan,” Charles says, suddenly in the doorway to the classroom. “I forgot to drop off the roll call this morning,” Charles explains, holding out a sheet of paper. You cross the room to meet him, taking the sheet into your hands. “It has the list of names of the children in your class, as well as their abilities.” Charles backs into the hallway. “Excellent work, you two. You make a better team than you realize.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. Logan mumbles a soft Thanks, and heads towards the door once Charles is gone. 

He scratches his head, almost nervously. “Got another class to teach,” he husks. “Meet up later to go over tomorrow’s lesson plan?” 

You nod your head. “Sounds good.” Logan smiles and walks through the doorway and down the hall. 

You look at the roll call, and your eyes widen. Your heart beats out of your chest. You find the name of the little girl who had asked if you and Logan were married. 

Claire Teller—Precognition, Clairvoyance, shows signs of potential telekinesis.

The paper falls from your hands and drifts slowly to the floor. You look down, your lips parted in shock. Did she see you and Logan—

“You alright, sugar?” Rogue’s voice snaps you back to reality. You look up, and she’s standing in the door. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

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The rest of the week goes smoothly. You and Logan meet each night to discuss the lesson plan for the following day. The classes go well. Claire always seems a bit distracted, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, but she does just fine in class. 

In fact, you’d say this was going better than well. You and Logan, despite his hesitation in the beginning, were growing closer every day. 

It’s written in secret, stolen moments—hands accidentally brushing, glances across the room. But you can feel it, the way your lives are being sewn together. You find ways to spend time alone outside of class—ordering dinner and grading together, practicing in the Danger Room as partners and not opponents. You had become something of a team.   

Tonight, you’re alone with Logan, sitting on the floor of his room, grading the small quiz you had given the children on the branches of government. Logan had picked the background music—60s and 70s rock. 

You hum along to Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra as you write “100%” at the top of a student’s quiz. 

“Pretty voice,” Logan rasps, looking up from his last quiz. Before you can react, before you can even process what he says, he’s moving on. “You almost done?”

“Just finished.” You write another “100%” and look up at Logan. He’s on his side, resting his head in his hand, balancing on his elbow. He smirks and stands up, striding over to you. He reaches his hand out, and you tilt your head, confused. You take his hand all the same, and he pulls you up. 

Logan’s hands find your waist, and he sways you from side to side. You giggle, shakily bringing your arms up and around his neck. Your heart thunders in your chest as you dance with him. 

“Didn’t take you for a dancer,” you murmur. Evil Woman fades out and Heroes by David Bowie starts up.  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Logan husks. He pulls you in tighter, his chest pressed to yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. Your eyes flutter closed. “Like what?”

He’s suddenly silent, and you can feel the tension thicken in the room. “When Charles came to us about the class…” He trails off, searching for the right words to say. “I was nervous,” he admits. 

You lift your head from his neck. “Why?” You question, smiling softly. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “Because I—” But then there’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Charles on the other side. Logan huffs, his eyes closing defeatedly as he loosens his hold on your waist and walks over to the door. 

“There has been an emergency,” Charles says the second the door is open. “I need you to go on a mission immediately. This is a dire situation.”

Logan looks across the room to you. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still trained on yours. 

Charles nods and heads down the hallway. “Meet me downstairs. Hank is readying the jet now.” 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you confess, fighting the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You can’t quite place where the feeling is coming from—why you’re suddenly so nervous about Logan leaving. A month ago, this sort of thing would’ve felt routine, normal. There’s always a crisis somewhere. 

Logan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “And we can talk then.” He strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” 

“Logan?” Charles calls from downstairs. “We need to leave at once!” 

Logan squeezes you tightly before letting go. He works his jaw, his teeth gritting as he backs out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart drops as you listen to his footsteps echoing against the stairs. By the time you muster up the courage to follow him, it’s too late. The door to the mansion slams just as you make it to the bottom of the steps. 

You can still hear Heroes faintly playing from Logan’s room. 

And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, forever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

You sit on the bottom step, your head falling into your hands.

“Oh, sugar,” Rogue whispers as she walks into the foyer. She settles next to you. “I didn’t know you and Logan…” She trails off, shaking her head. “He’ll come back. He always does.” She hangs her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her chest. 

You hope she’s right. 

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The next morning, Logan is still gone. You’re forced to teach the class alone. As you’re starting roll call, a young boy raises his hand. 

“Yes, Jimmy?” You call, arching your brows. 

“Where’s Professor Logan?” He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side. 

You swallow harshly, inhaling deeply. “He has something to take care of,” you explain. “It’ll just be me teaching today. Is that alright with you?” You try to sound light, jovial, plastering a fake smile across your face. The kids buy it, giggling and nodding. Jimmy smiles widely and nods, too.

But Claire—the little girl who can seemingly see into the future, stares at you sympathetically. It sends a chill down your spine. It’s like she knows how you’re feeling—can see it in her mind’s eye. You shake the feeling off, proceeding with the lesson. The material is distracting enough—the U.S. voting system, carefully explained so that the children can understand. 

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and the bell finally rings. The session felt longer than usual without Logan, and certainly harder to get through, but not impossible. The class picks up their belongings and files out. You grab your papers, readying to leave, assuming that everyone is gone. 

“He’s going to come back,” a small, familiar voice whispers. You look up from your materials, and there’s Claire, standing in front of the desk. Her deep, brown eyes twitch back and forth. She closes them tightly and smiles. “You don’t have to worry,” she assures. “He’s safe. He’ll always come back to you.” She pauses. “All I see is happiness.” The veins in her temples grow thicker, and you can tell she’s working too hard to look to the future.

“Claire,” you say, your hand grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. You don’t have to do that for me. I’m okay.”

Her eyes fly open, and she smiles widely, as if nothing happened. She steps away from the desk, your hand falling from her shoulder. “Didn’t hurt at all!” She calls as she skips out the door. “See you Monday!”

You shake your head. Resilient, you think to yourself. So goddamn resilient. 

The rest of the evening is slow. You try to keep yourself busy—grading papers, listening to music, going for a run, training in the Danger Room. But all you can think about is Logan. 

After dinner, you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. You sit alone in your room, on your bed, reminding yourself of what Claire had told you this afternoon. 

He’s going to come back. You don’t have to worry. He’s safe. 

You lay back on your pillows, bringing the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes. You repeat her words over and over again in your head as you fall asleep. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe. 

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You wake up a few hours later, your bedside lamp still on. Your alarm clock reads 1:45 AM. You groan, rolling over and shutting your eyes tightly, trying to force yourself back to sleep. But it’s no use—you’re awake, thinking of Logan already. 

You push yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and pressing your feet into the cold wood floors below. You walk to your door, twist the knob, and head out into the hallway.  A lap around the mansion might make you tired—might relax you. 

You walk down the hallway slowly, noticing instantly that Logan’s door is closed. You can’t help but pick up your pace, striding towards Logan’s room. 

You stand in front of his door, your hand on the knob, ready to twist and push. You stop yourself, wondering if this is crossing a line, tearing down a carefully constructed boundary. But all you want is to see him breathing, lying on his bed. You need to know he’s in there—safe. 

You knock once, but there’s no answer. You swallow nervously, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

Your heart stops. There he is. He’s home. He’s safe. He’s breathing. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as you start to close the door. 

But then his head snaps to the side, and he grunts. “Logan?” You call, opening the door slightly. He doesn’t answer. He grunts again. You quickly notice the way his fists white-knuckle his sheets. 

You step inside his room, closing the door behind you. “Lo,” you whisper into the darkness. He tosses and turns, his head whipping from side to side. He must be having a nightmare, You think to yourself, your heart breaking in two, watching pain wrack his body, his mind. 

You meet his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Logan,” you say, your voice louder, stronger this time. “You need to wake up.” But he doesn’t. He groans, his brows furrowed, sweat beading his forehead. 

“Come on,” you plead, climbing into the bed, and straddling him. You hold him down by his shoulders, stopping him from writhing. Now that you’re closer, you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks, can see the agony etched into the lines of his face. “Logan!” You yell. “You gotta wake—”

His eyes fly open, and you feel cold metal pierce your leg. Your jaw drops as pain stings sharply in your thigh. “Oh fuck,” Logan curses, sitting up and retracting his claws. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes as the pain worsens. “Shit!” He cries out, grabbing at your thigh, blood spilling into his fingers. 

You close your eyes as your powers take hold. Your skin slowly stitches up, putting yourself together again. You groan, and Logan wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the side of your head, pressing soft, gentle kisses there. “I love you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

What did he just say?

“W-what?” You ask, the pain fading away as those three words echo in your mind. 

Logan’s breathing only quickens as he realizes what he said. “A-are you okay?” He asks, ignoring your question. 

You nod. “It’s already gone,” you whisper, nodding to your thigh. “But what did you just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, saying it again. You pull back a bit to look at him. You can see the seriousness in his eyes, the adoration, the honesty. “I love you.” 

You bite your lip, your eyes widening as you process what this means. Logan loves you. It’s everything you ever wanted. Everything you could have asked for. It just makes sense.

“I love you too,” you confess, choking on your words. “I was so worried. I didn’t know when you’d come back, or if you’d come back at all. I saw your door closed, and I just had to see you. I needed to know that you were okay, that you came home.”

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. “Before I left,” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was going to tell you why I didn’t want to work together.” His eyes open again. “I was scared to get close to you,” he explains. “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. Knew I had to have you. I’ve never felt that way before. You opened something inside me that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was just locked, waiting around for you.”

“Logan,” you breathe, his lips just inches from yours. “I wanted you too. Wanted you this whole time.” You need him to kiss you—to take you right here and now. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, giggling softly. 

He shakes his head, smirking. “I liked you too much,” he rasps. “Didn’t know what to do about it. You were driving me crazy, sweetheart.” You can feel his erection straining in his boxers, and you can’t help but grind down on him, your core rocking against his cock. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips. “Slow down, pretty girl. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod emphatically. “Already healed,” you assure him. “Just need you, Lo.”

“Need you too, sweetheart,” Logan groans, rolling your hips against his, tugging you down his length. “Can feel you soaking through those panties already,” he grunts. And he’s right. The heat pooling between your legs is uncontrollable. 

You groan as your clit drags across his erection. “F-fuck,” you stutter, his fingers digging into your hips. You bring your hands to the waistband of his boxers, tugging at them. But before you can get anywhere, Logan is flipping you onto your back and crawling down your body. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he coos, hiking your shirt up and smirking when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples before sliding down further. “Wanna take care of you this first time.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he kisses down your stomach, going past the hem of your panties, stopping at your clit. He takes a deep breath. “Can smell that pretty pussy. Know she needs me, darlin’.” 

He hooks his fingers into your waistband, and tugs the thin lace down your legs, revealing your aching cunt to him. He settles between your thighs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

“L-Lo,” you choke. “Please.”

He smiles against you, breathing you in again. “Please what, princess?” He asks, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you beg. “Need you. Always gonna need you.” 

His smile meets his eyes as he licks a long stripe through your folds, his tongue pushing through your entrance, tasting you, savoring you. He hums against you, the vibration of his voice rocking your core. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles, licking another long stripe. “Perfect pussy. Knew you’d be this sweet.”

You watch as he laps at you, drinking you in. Logan’s tongue finds your clit, drawing tight circles into the bud. “F-feels so good,” you stutter. 

“I know, beautiful” He soothes, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, drawing closer to your heat. “You look so pretty when you let me eat you out,” he praises, his fingers prodding your entrance. “You want more?” He teases, slipping just past your slit and quickly pulling out. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Need your fingers, Lo. Please.”

He wastes no time—suddenly thrusting inside you, his long, thick fingers splitting you in two. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. “So tight,” he coos, pulling out and sliding back in. “So fucking wet.”

Logan wraps his lips around your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, hard. He releases, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your walls clench around his fingers at the sensation. “Fuck,” Logan curses, smirking against you. “You like that?” He teases. “Like when I’m rough with you?” His tongue flits out, lapping flat strokes across your clit. 

You moan a soft Yes in affirmation, your back arching off the mattress. You’re already close, ready to let go. But Logan isn’t letting up, his fingers slamming into you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder, rougher this time. He swirls soothing circles into the bud, pushing you to the edge. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hips squirming as he drags his tongue harder against your heat. “I’m so close.” 

Your muscles contract and release around his fingers as he hits that sweet spot inside you, pump after pump. “I know, pretty girl,” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around your hip and holding you down to the mattress. “Look at you,” he praises between harsh sucks. “So beautiful like this.” His tongue circles your overstimulated clit. “Already fucked out, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you mutter, your hips squirming helplessly against his grip. It’s all too much, his hushed whispers, his praises, the way his tongue flits against you, his deep thrusts dragging along your walls. “Logan, I’m gonna…” 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coaches, his tongue still lapping at you ravenously. He’s starving, unwilling to stop. He needs more. “Should keep you in my bed so I can taste you whenever I want.” He grunts against you. “Want you to come on my fingers, darlin’. Wanna taste it. Let go.”

It’s all blazing, white-hot heat, raging through your body, searing your skin. Your eyes stay trained on Logan as he works you through your orgasm—ravaging you, lapping up every last drop of your release. His fingers pump in and out, slowly, before he pulls out completely. But his face stays buried against your cunt, his tongue pushing through your folds. 

“Logan,” you whine, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Need you up here.” 

He looks up from your heat and licks one more long stripe before climbing up your body. He tugs his boxers down his legs, his eyes not leaving yours. His cock springs free, bumping against his stomach. 

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand wraps around the base of his cock. You instinctually spread your legs, as if it’s second nature, as if you’ve been here before. “Such a good girl,” Logan praises, sliding his tip through your folds. “All spread open for me.” His cock nudges against your clit and slides back down. “You need me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you choke. “More than you can—”

And then he’s plunging inside you, bottoming out with just one thrust. “Fuck!” You cry out. He stays inside, unmoving, letting you adjust to the size of him. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “You okay?” He asks. His cock throbs, pushing against your walls, searching for more. His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter, sighing in relief as his fingertips draw gentle strokes into the bud. “S-so big.”

“I know,” Logan soothes, sliding out only to shove himself back in, down to the hit. Your back arches off the mattress, your chest coming flush with his. “Gonna work you open.” His voice is gentle, calm. “I’ve got you. Relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Logan pulls out and thrusts in again, his lips swallowing your moans with a kiss. His fingers swirl around your clit as pleasure pulses through your every nerve ending. “Feels so good,” you murmur as he picks up his pace, his hips rolling against yours. 

He grunts. “So perfect,” he praises. “Fucking made for me.” He pumps in and out of you harder, faster now, letting himself go. He pinches your clit, rolling the bud under his fingertips. “Never gonna want anyone but you, you know that?” He twitches inside you, and your walls flutter around him. 

You curse under your breath. “Yes,” you cry out. “Only gonna want you, Lo. Only you.”

“Doing so good for me,” he husks between hard thrusts. “Taking me so well.” His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit rapidly, adding more pressure. His lips find yours again, biting, kissing you bruisingly, fitting against you like a puzzle piece. 

Your chests heave together, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. He bites down on your pulse point, his tongue flitting out to lick the pain away. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your walls contract around him, squeezing him as he sinks deeper inside you, hitting exactly where you need him most. You’re so close, ready to come undone. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too, pretty girl,” he rasps, twitching inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunges deeper. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna…” He trails off, his cock throbbing inside you again. You know he can’t hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Stay inside.” 

He groans, his forehead pressing to yours. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? That what you’re asking for?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, his fingers pinching your clit and stroking relentlessly. “Please,” you choke, begging, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Fuck,” he curses. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Wanna make you mine.” 

“Already yours,” you whisper, your muscles contracting around his length again, your legs trembling as stars flood your vision. Logan moans your name, and you can feel him spilling inside you. You come together, your orgasm crashing into you, more intense, more powerful than the last. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers as he finishes, painting your walls. 

“Love you too, Lo,” you say back, your heart beating out of your chest as you come down from your high. 

His fingers drag against your clit, swiping gently before running up your body, slipping under your back, and pulling you into his chest. His hips are still, his cock unmoving inside you. He finally pulls out, and rolls off you, taking you with him. He tugs you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Need anything?”

“J-just you,” you stammer. His fingertips trace patterns along your back, soothing and gentle. 

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and moving to sit up. But you stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him down. He smirks, letting you pull him back. “I’m just gonna grab a towel, yeah? Wanna take care of you. I’ll come right back.”

You nod, letting him go. He slips out of the bed, strides over to his bathroom, and grabs a towel from inside without turning a light on. Within ten seconds he’s back in bed, just like he said he would be. 

Logan brings the towel between your legs and wipes you clean. His touch is gentle, soothing, careful not to be too rough. Once he’s done, he throws the towel to the floor and reaches over to his nightstand. When he turns back to you, he has a glass of water in his hand. He extends the glass out, bringing it to your lips. The water feels cool as it slides down your throat. You drain the glass, and Logan smiles as he pulls it from your lips. 

He places the cup back down on the nightstand and pulls you into his arms again. You bury your head into the center of his chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. It’s even, steady, constant. Just like him. 

“Never felt like this before,” he whispers into the silent darkness of the room. 

“Like what?” You mumble, your voice muffled against his chest. 

You can hear the smile in his voice as the words leave his lips. “Happy. Safe.”

Tears—happy tears—free themselves from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. 

“Can’t let go of you,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna go back to before.”

“You don’t have to, Lo,” you pant. “I’m yours. Always.” And you know you mean it. You know it’s true. It’s already been decided, already played out. Already etched into the future. 

Are you two married? Claire had asked. 

He’ll always come back to you. All I see is happiness, She had promised.

And she was right. 

“I love you,” Logan husks. 

“I love you, too.” 

tags: @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @Ifdybadgirlsdiw @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SLEEPLESS NIGHT

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Spencer finally has a night to sleep at his apartment with his girlfriend, but the current case doesn't even let him close his eyes, leading him to study the files until ungodly hours. But who said that Y/N can sleep away from him?

WARNING: Slightly mention of age gap (reader is still in college), tooth rotting fluff.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Spencer hated bringing work home, and he had two very specific reasons for it. First, he loathed the idea of mixing his work life with his personal life. The BAU was a constant source of darkness; gruesome crimes, twisted minds, and the unrelenting pressure to solve the unsolvable.

His home was the opposite: a place of light and warmth, a refuge from the horrors that haunted him on a daily basis. But more importantly, home was where Y/N was. She was the one person who could pull him from the depths of his thoughts, her mere presence offering a calm that he couldn't find anywhere else. She was his life, his anchor, and his sanctuary.

Their time together was sacred, especially with the demands of his job taking him away so often. Whether he was chasing unsubs across the country or spending endless hours poring over case files at the BAU, being away from Y/N was the hardest part of his job. When he was home, he wanted to be fully present, to make up for the time he lost while he was away.

He cherished the quiet moments, the lazy evenings where they could simply exist together without the weight of the world bearing down on him. He wanted to give her every ounce of his attention, to make her feel just how much she meant to him.

But then, there were nights like tonight, when the case followed him home despite his best intentions, forcing him to divide his focus in a way that always left him feeling guilty.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, filtered through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. The clock on the nightstand read 2:37 AM, its gentle green glow a quiet reminder of how late it had become.

Spencer lay on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling, though his mind was far from still. It raced, chasing the loose ends of the case, replaying details, searching for the missing link that could unravel everything. The unsub was smart, meticulous in his planning, calculating in his movements. It was unnerving, the way this case was so close to home, right here in Quantico.

Hotch had granted the team a rare night to return home and rest, knowing the work would pick up again with relentless intensity in the morning. Spencer knew he should be grateful for the chance to sleep in his own bed, to hold Y/N close, and let her warmth lull him into rest. But sleep felt impossible.

Beside him, Y/N slept soundly, her body curled against his. One arm rested across his chest, her hand fisting tightly the fabric of his white shirt and her hand tucked beneath his shoulder, as if even in sleep, she sought him out. Her breathing was soft and even, the slow rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm against his side.

Spencer turned his head slightly, watching her. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on her lips, probably remains of a dream. His heart clenched with love, a wave of warmth and tenderness washing over him.

With a soft sigh, Spencer slid his right arm beneath her, his hand resting gently on her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of the sweater she wore - his sweater. He brought his other hand down to her bare leg, carefully shifting her until her right one draped across his thighs, her body instinctively curling closer to him, almost laying fully above him.

His fingers trailed softly along her thigh, the smooth skin warm beneath his touch. The gesture was soothing, grounding him in the present moment, in the feel of her against him. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her flesh, his touch light and reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her - as if he already didn't had each part of her craved inside his head.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of her hair. It was a mixture of her shampoo and something uniquely hers, a scent that had always brought him comfort. His lips brushed against the delicate skin of her closed eyelids, another kiss pressed to her temple. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her hand tightening its grip on his shirt.

His right hand traveled across the fabric of his sweater, slipping below it, his fingertips sliding higher, brushing against the bare skin of her back. She was so warm, her skin so soft, and the feel of her made something inside him settle, if only for a moment. He continued to stroke her thigh with one hand, his other one gently massaging the muscles of her back, feeling the way her body relaxed further into him.

He stared at her for a long moment, his mind flickering between her and work. He didn’t want to leave her alone in bed, didn’t want to let it drag him away from her. Spencer knew Y/N deserved a good night's sleep more than anyone. She had been tirelessly studying for her college finals, always the most academically involved and dedicated in her class, which caused her to staying up late, buried in textbooks and research papers - just as he spent sleepless nights away on cases.

But even as he held her close, the details of the case gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

With a reluctant sigh, he carefully began to shift, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb her. His hand on her thigh slid away, and he gently eased her leg off his hips, tucking it back beneath the blankets. She mumbled softly in her sleep, her body instinctively moving toward his warmth even as he slipped out from under her.

Spencer sat up, pausing for a moment as he watched her stir. Her hand reached for him in her sleep, her face burrowing further into his pillow as if searching for his scent. The sight made his chest tighten with both affection and guilty.

With one last glance at Y/N, Spencer stood, moving with the quiet precision of someone who was used to slipping away in the dead of night. He padded silently out of the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath his feet.

The apartment was shrouded in a heavy, comfortable darkness, the only sound breaking the quiet being the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Spencer moved with practiced silence, stepping lightly through the familiar space until he reached the small room they’d turned into a makeshift office. It was cluttered with his books, scattered papers, and, more recently, case files.

He flicked on the desk lamp, casting a soft, amber glow across the cluttered desk. His movements were slow, careful not to disturb the serene quiet that enveloped the apartment as he sank into his chair, rescuing his folded glasses from between all those papers.

In front of him lay the case file, the photographs of the victims staring back at him as if mocking his inability to piece it all together. He scanned the reports for what felt like the hundredth time, his brow creased in thought, eyes darting over the details.

Minutes bled into an hour, maybe more. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose as he leaned in closer to the desk, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the crime scene photos. His other hand tugged at the cuff of his pajama sleeve, lost in the rhythm of his restless thoughts.

Just then, the sound of soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor reached his ears, the faint shuffling of bare feet snapping him out of his thoughts. He barely turned in his chair before he saw her; a sleepy, disheveled Y/N standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the faint glow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his sweater were falling over her hands, causing her shoulders to become exposed, and her eyes were heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"Spence..." She mumbled, her voice raspy and thick with drowsiness. The sight of her tugged at his heart in the most tender way.

Spencer’s face softened instantly, guilt creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. He’d woken her.

"Hey, sweetheart." He murmured, pushing the file aside and giving her his full attention. His voice was quiet, filled with concern. "What are you doing awake? You should be asleep."

Y/N blinked at him, the bleariness in her eyes making her seem even smaller and more vulnerable. She swayed slightly on her feet, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"I woke up... and you weren’t there." She slurred softly, taking a small step toward him, her expression confused and sleepy.

His heart clenched at her words, a wave of guilt washing over him. He hated that he’d caused her to wake up, especially on a week that she spent too much time studying and having little to no rest. He adjusted his posture above the chair, motioning her closer with gentle hands, but Y/N was already moving on her own, shuffling across the room with slow, sleepy steps, her gaze never leaving him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, dove." He whispered as she reached him. He reached out with his hands as she practically fell into his arms.

She pushed his arms open with little effort and maneuvered herself onto his lap, pressing against him as if seeking out the warmth she’d missed. Her legs straddled his thighs, her knees resting above the sides of the chair, her body curling around his like a koala hugging a tree. The weight of her felt perfect, grounding him as she nestled closer, her chest rising and falling softly against him.

"Spence, don’t apologize." She murmured, her breath tickling the skin of his neck as she shifted, her nose nuzzling into the curve of it, seeking his scent. She pressed her face against him, her lips brushing feather-light against the sensitive skin just below his ear as she planted a sleepy kiss. "You know I just can’t sleep well without you."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the soft, familiar feeling of her lips against his neck sending warmth coursing through him. His left hand instinctively found her back, his fingers running to the hem of his sweater and lifting it slightly, making room for hand to enter under the fabric and meet her skin, spreading his fingers as he began tracing lazy circles along her spine, soothing her.

Y/N sighed in pleasure, her left hand gently crawling up to his face. Her fingers softly traced the rough stubble along his cheek before instinctively pushing his glasses back up to their proper place, her fingertips grazing the bridge of his nose in a familiar, soothing motion.

He smiled softly, his guilt still lingering but melting slightly under the comfort of her touch. She was so close, so vulnerable in her half-asleep state, and it made him feel even more protective of her.

"You should be in bed." He whispered, his voice low and affectionate, his hand continuing its gentle caress. "You have finals tomorrow... and this position’s going to make your back hurt in the morning." He tried to sound stern, but the amusement in his tone betrayed him. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly as Y/N shifted again, her hand leaving his face and meeting the other side of his neck, her right arm tightening around his torso in silent protest.

"I don’t care." She mumbled into his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. "I love you. I want to be here."

His heart swelled at her words, an overwhelming wave of love flooding him. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her.

"I love you more." He whispered back, his voice barely audible as he nuzzled his cheek against her hair. His hand never stopped its rhythmic movement along her back, his touch gentle and tender.

Y/N hummed in response, her breathing already slowing as the warmth of his embrace lulled her back toward sleep. Spencer could feel the way her body relaxed against his, her weight becoming heavier as she melted further into him. She was so peaceful, her soft breaths brushing against his skin in a steady rhythm.

Spencer's eyes drifted to the case file still resting on the desk, his mind unwilling to let go of the details he was trying to piece together. His hand continued to trail soothing patterns on her back, and he tilted his head down, pressing another kiss to her temple, noticing how her body was giving way to sleep again.

"Let me tuck you back into bed, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, insisting. "You need the proper rest."

But Y/N shifted in his lap, shaking her head, clearly unwilling to move.

"No." She mumbled, her voice soft but convincing. "What I need is to be with you." She burrowed her face deeper into his neck, pressing her nose against his skin and nuzzling him like she was trying to become a part of him. "Let me stay here. Please."

Spencer sighed softly, feeling torn between the the case and the warmth of Y/N in his arms. He glanced back at Y/N, her soft breathing and her peaceful face pressed against his neck, shaking his head with how stubborn she could be.

Wrapping his arms fully around her, he held her close, one hand still caressing her back while the other pulled the case file closer to him again, reopening it and going back to the first page.

[uluvjay]

Glory days- S. Vettel

Sebastian Vettel x wife! Reader

In which you ask your husband to fuck you like he did in your glory days

Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(plz use protection!), oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), dirty talk, ass slapping, degrading, cursing, porn with a small plot, prob many errors & bad grammar 

Part of my 1k celly:)

You blamed the internet for being the reason you were seeking out your husband. The damn tik tok you scrolled upon showing your husband being drowned in champagne by two of his closest friends and then him showing his tongue with his index finger up to the world.

You loved the way Sebastian treated you in the bedroom, there was no doubt about that.

But the video had you missing the RedBull days where he was more wild and would have you pinned against a wall with tears streaming down your face as he spat things at you in German, how he’d tease you for so long you were sobbing and begging for him, the quickies in his drivers room while the entirety of the RedBull team were looking for him.

Finally finding him sat at his desk in the office you snuck up behind him, running your hands down his chest to signal your presence.

“Hi meine Liebe” he smiled taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“Hi” you greeted back.

Turning around in his chair the man smiled up at you before pulling you onto his lap.

“The girls go down easy?”

“By the second story they were both snoring” he laughed at the thought of his sweet twins fast asleep.

“I’m glad, they love having you put them to bed” you beamed snuggling deep into his chest.

“And I love doing it”

You two sat like that for a minute , his large hand running along your back while he replied to emails he’d been putting off.

“Hey Seb?” Your soft voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Yes darling?”

“Remember the night you won your third championship?” You smirked at the sound of the him taking a sharp breath.

“Of course I do, what about it?” He coughed slightly shifting underneath you.

“Remember how drenched we were in champagne? How you poured it down my chest before licking it up? How you made me come three times in three different ways?”

A cry tore from your throat when his hand slotted in your hair and pulled you from his neck.

“What are you trying to do here Schatz?” He grunted

“I just…We haven’t gone at it like that in a long time, and don’t get me wrong I still love the way you fuck me but I kinda miss us being messy and rough” you spoke looking up at him with his favorite doe eyes.

A growl, an actual growl broke from the mans throat before he smashed his lips against yours, the kiss was hot and sloppy, something familiar but yet forgotten.

His free hand reaching down to grip your hip, pulling you so close you could feel his chest moving in and out against your own.

“Seb” you panted pulling away from his lips.

“What?”

“I need you, please. I need you to fuck me so hard that I don’t remember my own name-like you used to.” You begged the blonde.

Without anymore pleading he slipped his hands under your thighs before standing and making his way down the hall.

“Seb you passed the bedroom” you spoke with confusion.

“I know”

Confusion clouded your mind for a moment until you realized he was opening the door to one of your guest rooms.

“Further from the girls, don’t wanna risk your pathetic noises waking them” he spat, his hands hastily pulling your leggings down.

Slotting himself between your thighs he began trailing soft kisses against the insides of your thighs, lips brushing right past your wet cotton panties.

“Seb, please” you begged.

“Hush Kleiner Hase” he smirked at the yearning whimper that broke from your throat at the name.

His torturing kisses continued along your skin, nipping and sucking along the skin coaxing whines and whimpers from you.

“Sebastian baby-please, I need you” you begged, hands running through his soft and overgrown curls.

“Your the one that asked for this baby, wanted me to take care of like I used to.” He tutted and as much as you wanted to argue he was right.

Sebastian hardly made you wait anymore, usually due to the fact that kids made it hard for you two to take your time.

Finally running his fingers over the elastic of your panties Sebastian hooked a finger in the material and pulled them down your legs.

“So wet for me” breathed, mouth watering at the sight of your dripping folds.

“Oh god seb please” you whined.

Your body was aching for him at this point, wanting nothing more than his body pressed against yours while he fucked you silly and made you come over and over again.

A groan left your husbands throat as he left kisses along your folds, his tongue teasingly running through them. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth finally coming into contact with your cunt.

Your fingers gather his hair in a vice grip, pulling on the locks so hard it had Sebastian whimpering.

“Feels so good Seb” you heaved, body shivering as he ate you like a starved man.

His tongue ran along your folds, moving in multiple different patterns while his nose bumped and prodded against your clit.

Sebastian’s hands pinned your hips down as you attempted to grind against his face, a sharp slap against your skin letting you know to knock it off.

Your thighs shook as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten by the seconds, your moans getting louder and your tugs on Sebastian’s hair getting harder.

“M’ gonna-fuck, gonna cum seb” you cried out.

“Go on pretty girl, cum for me. Want you to cum all over my face.” He encouraged as he slipped two fingers inside you to help guide you to your high.

You arched your back, breath quivering as you came, thighs closing around Sebastian’s head drawing the man even closer to your cunt then before.

Broken sobs escaped your throat as you came down from your high, Sebastian left wet kisses along the skin of your lower stomach while his fingers continued to work you open.

“So pretty Schatz” he cooed in your ear before your body was flipped over and you were placed on your knees with your face shoved into the comforter.

You could feel him shuffling before the warm head of his cock was placed against your folds, teasingly running through the cum and spit covered skin.

Sebastian shuddered as he slipped inside, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises in their place tomorrow.

“My fucking god..” he growled at the way your walls hugged him.

He could hear your muffled cries as he kept up a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping mixing in with your shared moans filled the room.

Your breath hitched with every thrust, you could feel every ridge and vain as he split you open. His deeps grunts and growls making you clench even tighter around him.

“Ah-fuck. Seb it feels so good” you whimpered as he placed a foot onto the soft mattress to allow him a deeper angle over your body.

“Yeah? Like when I fuck you like a little slut?” He spat, leaning his body over your back to whisper in your ear.

The man got nothing but muffled cries in return as your body squirmed underneath his, your toes curling in pleasure as he fucked you deep.

“Clenching me so tight” he panted into your neck.

Your breath hitched at every thrust, the heat in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter by the second.

“Se-oh!-m’ gonna cum” you stuttered.

He smirked at the way your body shook due to his movements, how you cried as his hand came down hard against your plump ass.

“Go on Meine Liebe, come all over my cock like a good whore” he taunted as his thrusts picked up and soon his hand was placed on the back of your head; shoving your face into the mattress.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, body trembling, and toes curling as your climax washed over you. Your entire body shook as Sebastian kept going, his thrusts unforgiving as he chased a high of his own.

Grunts filled the room as Sebastian felt the familiar shiver run down his spine and he came deep inside you, your cunt milking him dry.

He smirked at the sight of your fucked out face when he turned your body over, tear tracks covered your red cheeks as you panted for air.

“So pretty Liebling” he shushed as he ran his thumb along your warm cheek.

“Tha-that was amazing” you laughed as you pulled his body down to press against yours.

“Yeah?” He smirked as he placed kisses along your neck.

“Mhm”

“I’m glad because I’m far from being done with you”

-

[sickuma]

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back. 

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?” 

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance. 

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent, 

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours. 

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him. 

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while. 

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe. 

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body, 

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you. 

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel. 

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back. 

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone." 

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him. 

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail. 

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug. 

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you. 

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

laughter like honey dribbles ◦ l.f

-an inexperienced Felix tries to impress you by forcing his voice deeper. What do you do when it cracks mid-through?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 1123

Genre ◦ The fluffiest smut you'll ever read, awkward sexual situations, realistic sex where life isn't all butterflies, orgasms, and rainbows.

Warnings ◦ Reader is described as having a vagina, laughter during sex, Felix being a big baby, embarrassment (what's new), ruined orgasm ig? Ngl i feel like half of this is just a bunch of me yapping and terrible punctuation (if you find any errors PLEASE let me know, thank you).

A/N ◦ This was the very first thing I've ever posted on my tumblr literally ever and so I'm going to be reuploading all of my stuff back onto this account 😃 so why not start off here

~CookieCreates🍪

You can feel him all around you, chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart. Your bodies melded together flawlessly, as though you were molded to fit into each other's arms, and, well, each others…

He pumps in and out of you ruthlessly, perfectly tipping you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his rutting hips, wanting him closer, harder, deeper,

Fuck.

“What do you want, baby?” He slams his hips harder into yours, prodding all the perfect places. You choke, a rush of pleasure vibrating through your bones. “Use your words.” He pants, nibbling on the soft skin of your neck, his voice deep and low, the seductive sultry tilt sends shivers up your spine and tingles to your core. 

“Say something, anything, your voice drives me crazy,” you whine, throwing your head back in bliss. A shrill moan rips from the back of your throat as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, electric hands reaching out to you. You brush the tips of its fingers; trailing rings of fire seem to be tickling your skin, raging beneath your bones. 

So close.

So close.

So close.

You reach, all you need is,

“Good girl.” Felix doesn't know why he did it, forced his voice lower, deeper. At the time when ecstasy was rushing through his veins, it didn't seem like such a bad idea, until he went so deep it cracked.

He wants nothing more than for the earth to crack open and swallow him whole.

He stops.

You stop.

The world stops for a moment, and all you can see are his big, brown eyes blown wide with shock. The room is completely silent; the only thing being heard is the rough pounding of your hearts and the hard blinking of your eyes which seems like all you guys are able to do. You stay like that forever. Watching. Waiting. For one of you to take one for the team and cut through the growing tension in the room. You curl your lips into your teeth, breaking the awkward stand-off on whose either going to laugh their ass off or pretend that nothing happened and continue to fuck, but with your orgasm long forgotten and the previous raging heat of the room now dwindling to nothing more than a few flickering embers, the laughter that bubbles up in your throat is beginning to be too hard to contain.

Heat floods his cheeks as he blinks, still in this weird form of fight or flight mode. His muscles tense beneath your traveling fingertips, overcome with the humiliation that burns through his chest, and figuring no matter how much he's praying for the earth to swallow him up, Mother Nature is not coming to save him, so he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hiding from your amused stare instead. 

“Baby,” you chuckle softly, sympathetically, the sound reminding him somewhat of delicate strings of honey that float through the air. Even with the regret coursing through his veins, the sound sticks to parts of his brain that only you are allowed to occupy, so basically, all of it.

He could sum up his life with you in one simple sentence: cotton candy kisses and laughter like honey dribbles. He groans, digging his face deeper into the soft skin of your neck, the same neck that's littered with the love bites he bestowed not even moments earlier.

Oh, how the world changes. 

You can't help the spree of giggles that spill from your mouth.

“Can you come out now, please?”

"No, I'm good. I think I'm going to live here, die here, eat here, sleep here. You might as well get comfortable, baby, cause I'm staying here for the rest of my life!” He says erratically, digging his face deeper into your skin.

“My dramatic baby,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat. Time seems to trickle by as soft bouts of breathing fill the air. The heat of his cheeks burns into your neck as you attempt to coddle him out of the embarrassed home he's made in your body.

"S'embarrassing,” he mumbles, voice muddled by the depth in which he has burrowed into your flesh.

“What was that, baby? I couldn't hear you from the home you've made in my neck.” You tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. He lifts his head, shooting you an equally playful but unamused glare. You have to push back the laughter that threatens to leave your lips as you take in his red cheeks and shy eyes. He looks so adorable and yet so sexy at the same time. You don't know if you want to jump his bones or bake him a batch of cookies. The best part is that you know you're going to be able to do both. You lift your eyebrows, sending him a look that states, "You have to admit that really was funny," which he reciprocates with a bashful smile, not quite meeting your eyes, giving you a look back that states, "I know it was funny, but right now I'm too embarrassed to say that currently."

That's what you loved about your relationship with Felix—you didn't always have to communicate with words. Your hearts did the talking for you.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you have to admit it was kind of funny.” He rolls his eyes, a wide smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah, I guess it was kind of funny.” 

You snicker, “Thank God, cause the laughter wasn't going to hold itself in for very long.” 

"Ugg, I hate you.” His words were as soft as silk, holding not even a centimeter of malice. He buries himself back into the permanent place he's made his home. 

“But I love you.” You whisper, your lips grazing the crown of his head, soft hairs tickling your chin.

You loved Felix, and he loved you, and even though the mood was ruined and hope for an orgasm was gone, you wouldn't trade it for the world. How could you when he was exactly that. Your world. 

“Okay, as much as I hate to say this, you can't live inside of me forever; my pH levels have to be screaming right now.”

When you were a girl and the coughs started coming, your mother used to give you honey in a spoon and a tickle to the stomach, telling you that laughter was the best medicine, but mixed with the slick amber liquid, your laughter would always sound like honey dribbles, the perfect cure, but with Felix, you never had to worry about being sick because laughter was all the two of you ever spoke.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 2nd 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Breaking Up or Breaking Down?

Summary: What was supposed to be a two week ‘vacation' has now lasted two months. Your girlfriend is waiting excitedly at the airport for your return, yet you’re not looking forward to it in the slightest. What happens when you’re forced to return and face your past, and even worse—your girlfriend? Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 2,813 Warnings: Mentions of killing, death, lots of anxiety, panic attacks, angst for daysss A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers! I appreciate everyone that has read my work or interacted with my blog! <3 Have the best day and/or night ;)

“I’ll meet you at baggage claim, and don’t bring the whole team. I just want to see you, okay?” You instruct Wanda on the other end of the phone as you wait in line to board your flight. After a two month long trip, you’re finally going back to the compound.

Not because you were on some long mission that recently ended, you’ve simply been taking a break from Avenging to reconnect with your family out of state. Unfortunately, the much needed vacation time has come to an end, although you can’t help but feel excited to see the smiling face waiting for you back in New York.

Much to Wanda’s dismay, you chose to take a break after a specifically stressful mission. She tried to convince you to stay and work it out together, but every time you would look into her light green eyes you saw destruction. Not because of her actions, but rather your own. She saw the person you could be in face of a challenge, and it’s someone you hope never resurfaces again.

Feeling slightly anxious at your return, Wanda is already there to ease any nerves. “Of course. I know you’re nervous, but I know you can do this. We can do this together. I’ll see you soon, have a safe flight. I love you.”

You smile sadly into the phone, knowing at the end of the day she only wants the best for you. “I love you too, bye for now.” After hanging up, you’re already near the front of the line. It took a lot of convincing to ride home on a commercial airline instead of the jet, but you wanted to drag out this break as far as it’d go. Wanda, on the other hand, was eager to get it over with.

For once, you hope the flight takes longer than expected. You’re not worried to see the team, or to live back at the compound. You’re worried that all you’ll be able to see is death. All of your mistakes, errors, and forgotten victims from past missions. Each instance follows you around at the compound, like you’re stuck trailing around blood for the rest of your life.

By the time you pull yourself out of your thoughts, the plane is already landing. You internally curse yourself for not savoring the moment, but there’s barely any time to dwell on it as the rush of passengers begin to deplane.

You drag out every moment possible, from letting those around you deplane first, stopping in the restroom to splash cold water on your face, to walking extra slow toward baggage claim. But the large moving glass doors can’t hide what’s waiting for you out in the promenade—nothing can hide that large of a group.

The entire team of Avengers stands eagerly in the open area, gaining quite a few stares from onlookers. They aren’t in costume, but they sure do look out of place. You sigh defeatedly, knowing you explicitly asked Wanda to come alone.

It’s too late to turn back as the glass doors swing open and everyone catches sight of you. All the wind is knocked out of your lungs when each member takes turns hugging you tighter than before. The only person you care about seeing right now is at the very back, giving you an ‘I know,’ expression while glancing between the cohort of team members.

“I tried to keep them home, I really did.” Wanda says, and you can’t help but chuckle. You hesitate as she leans in, but ultimately let her kiss you softly. You aren’t going to reject her in front of all your closest friends.

“It’s alright, I know they’re an insistent bunch.” You glare playfully at everyone as Wanda grabs your suitcase.

“We missed having you around. It’s weird not seeing you every night when I go to bed, and every morning when I wake up.” Wanda smiles lovingly at you, but she can see you’re not reciprocating the expression. “Hey, everything okay?”

You only nod, forcing a slight smile as the group treads toward the large van. It’s impossible not to feel Wanda’s lingering uneasiness, but thankfully she swallows it in the presence of everyone else. A part of you feels bad for not being as excited as her, but you can’t really help it.

The van ride home is quick, yet somehow seems to feel longer than your entire trip combined. Everyone asks a million questions, to which you throw out vague answers in hopes they’ll die down with the interrogation. They don’t, but your sprinkle of ‘it was great!’ and ‘my mom is doing well’ seems to hold them over.

That’s when the large white-walled concrete building comes into view, making your heart drop. The same walls that hold your past successes and failures. Wanda nudges your arm as the car is put into park, and you realize you’re not moving.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” She questions with that same concerned expression. You nod, taking a deep breath.

“We’ll talk about it later.” You answer, managing a small smile. Wanda returns it, but the worried look on her face still remains. While the team fights over who gets to take your suitcase inside, you can’t help but gawk at the tall building before you.

Not because of the incredible architecture, but because of what it means to you. Lives lost in battle, destroyed cities, all in the palm of your hand. It was all in your control, and you failed every single one of those victims.

A part of you almost feels like the break wasn’t warranted, like you needed to spend all those hours fixing everything you broke. But the team agreed with your original venture and pushed you to go home for a bit. It was obvious you were struggling, and they all knew it was best for you to take a step back—just for a couple weeks. That’s when two weeks turned into three, and three turned into eight.

But none of that matters now that you’re back. No matter how much you’ve tried to put it off, it was inevitable you’d have to face the music at some point. Whether that means breaking things off with Wanda, or attempting another vacation home, you aren’t quite sure. You try to pull yourself together while the entire team guides you inside.

Nothing has changed in two months, not like you were expecting it to—but maybe you’d hoped the feeling would. It’s hard to shake the pit in your stomach, and not even Wanda’s arm linked in yours seems to soothe it.

After the team finally leaves you to unpack in your room, you can’t help but feel the encroaching dread. You’re fine, this is your home now—remember? You can’t hurt anyone at the compound. You try to convince yourself, but it has little effect. Who’s to say you can’t hurt your friends, or worse—the person you love most?

As if right on cue, there’s a soft knock on your door. Wanda reveals herself before you respond. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know if you wanted me to wait or-“

“No, no,” You cut her off. “You’re always welcome in here, Wanda. That hasn’t changed.” She smiles, sitting on your bed while watching you put your folded clothes away.

“So, what has then?” Her question is sudden, and makes you raise a brow.

“Hm?” You’re not quite sure what she’s insinuating, although you have a hunch. One you’re hoping isn’t true.

She gives you that same worried look you’re getting sick of. “Somethings up with you, what’s going on? You can talk to me.” Wanda pastes on a sad smile. You know she means it, and a part of you feels terrible for brushing her off before. She cares, but all you know how to do is isolate yourself.

“Two months is a lot of time off, I think I’m just a little worried about getting back into the swing of things.” You lie. Wanda takes the bait though; suddenly she’s on her feet at your side, her arms caressing yours.

“I have no doubt you’ll feel back to normal in no time. Plus, I’m right here if you need absolutely anything. Okay?” She stares at you with those damned green eyes.

You nod, letting a shy smile creep on your face. “Okay.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can start training with me again tomorrow.” You resist the urge to groan at her words, and instead nod. She kisses you once more before leaving with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen—and suddenly, you realize keeping up this facade will be a lot harder than you originally thought.

By the time your 7:00 am alarm blares, you’re already wide awake after a restless night. The recurring memories playing over and over in your head refused to rest—leaving you not only exhausted physically, but also mentally.

With a sigh, you get dressed into your usual workout attire. On your trip back home, you would spend countless hours going for runs, not thinking twice about missing combat training. The temporary feeling of freedom helped you escape from all of your problems; it gave you the agency to leave. But at the end of the day, it was just that: temporary. Now your exercise will have to consist of the usual Avengers training sessions, the ones you attended nearly four times a week two months ago. How did you put up with that? The idea of training that often sounds torturous, but it’s evident things have changed a lot in only a few months' time.

You slip into the gym discreetly, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. Training silently for ninety minutes, then leaving without a trace. But your attempt is easily foiled as Wanda spots you in mere seconds. “Good morning love!”

Painting on a smile, you let her kiss you. “Morning.”

“How��d you sleep?” She asks with an unwavering grin. You tilt your head side to side, choosing to keep your restless night to yourself.

“I slept alright. I’m ready to train though!” Her attention is quickly taken as she moves to work on target practice with Steve. You can’t help but laugh as she waves her red orbs of energy around him, stealing his weapons or pushing him back and forth.

Eventually you find yourself in front of a punching bag, the idea slightly more appealing then standing around awkwardly. As much as you used to like training, there’s no part of you interested now. Looking at the black hanging target, your mind tries to play tricks. The bag suddenly looks like a body—a life that each punch quickly steals.

No. You can’t think of it that way, you’ll only make things worse. You can’t run, you have to face the truth. Your mind starts to contort, each thought turning against you as every punching bag shape-shifts into a human life lost.

It’s all your fault! You killed them all! How can you live with yourself? You’re not a hero. You should’ve stayed home, you should’ve never come back here.

“Love?” The sweet sound of your partner’s voice makes you flinch back into the present. You suddenly realize you’re not standing in front of the punching bag, but rather curled up on the floor… and now you can’t help but feel embarrassed. “Hey, breathe. You’re alright.”

Wanda shoos off the rest of the team, wanting to give you space yet refusing to do so herself. She kneels down beside you, placing a hand atop your knee as you fully come back to reality. The first thing you see is her bright green eyes, filled to the brim with her signature worry. “What’s really going on?”

Shit. You could try to cover your breakdown, but it’s easy to tell your excuse from earlier won’t hold up with someone as empathetic as Wanda. You glance back and forth between her and the team training, which gives her the cue you want to go somewhere more private. She nods, helping you up and leading you toward the empty living room.

You take shallow breaths as Wanda scoots close beside you, the idea of spilling the entire truth extremely daunting. Of course you want to share everything with Wanda, yet you can’t help but think she’ll find a way to blame herself—or worse—she’ll agree with you.

Even though one side of your mind pictures you as a loving partner to Wanda, the other half sees you as a heinous monster. Quite the contrast, and it’s forcing you to quickly switch between both sides to find any sign of an answer; who are you?

Sure, you’re a superhero—or were two months ago, at least. But not without tribulations. The destruction left in your path surely can’t be described as hero-like, yet no one has questioned it but yourself. Does that make you the only imposter?

“You still with me, love?” Wanda pulls you out of your thoughts again, a caring hand placed back on your knee. Finally meeting her eye contact, you see the warmth underneath the freckled green. She cares, and it’s time you let her in. If not for yourself, for her sake.

“I’m still with you…but I shouldn’t be.” You start, getting a raised eyebrow from Wanda. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Now it’s Wanda’s turn to take a hesitant breath. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” She’s running through her mind for any possible reason right now, but is left at a blank. She knew you left for your vacation struggling, but from your various phone calls it sounded like you were doing better. Her satisfaction broke down quickly when you came back from your hiatus with such an unusual demeanor.

“I shouldn’t be an Avenger. I shouldn’t even be living at the compound. Being back here after my vacation has proved everything I feared.” You voice, Wanda’s expression fixed on yours.

In your stead of silence, she tries to get more out of you. “And what’s that?”

Another deep breath. “I’m a villain more than I’m a hero.” There’s more silence as Wanda’s eyes shift to the ground. You can almost feel her heart beating. Does she agree? Her hand remains on your knee, thumb slowly moving up and down.

“Is this about your last mission?” She asks, finally meeting your gaze again. You shrug.

“It’s about everything. Whenever I’m trying to save lives, so many others have to pay the price. Maybe a city is saved from an invading army, but all that’s left is death and destruction.” The overwhelming urge to cry rises in your throat, but only a tear is able to escape.

Wanda moves even closer, grabbing both of your hands with hers. “I know there’s so many negatives you’re telling yourself right now, but I need you to listen to me, okay?” You nod ever so slightly before she continues. “Remember when we were in France during the invasion, and there was a group of students that strayed from their school? You sat with them for hours, playing games and running around—trying to shield them from the fight a few blocks down. A villain wouldn’t do that.”

You hear her, but the words mean nothing. It was one time, one moment—and during that same fight, hundreds of civilians died. You could’ve prevented that. You should’ve. “Hey, don’t get lost in your thoughts again yet, I’m not finished.” Wanda speaks softly, and you can’t help but smile at how well she knows you.

She can tell nothing will get through to you in your current state. There’s only one thing that will benefit you right now: the truth. “The bottom line is, all of that’s in the past. You can’t change it, but you can shape your future. You don’t have to be an Avenger, but I’ll be damned if I let you work for the other side.” 

The full truth is, you’ve never thought about it this way. Nothing is stopping you from retiring as an Avenger, but what would that mean for you and Wanda? She’s the reason you came back to the compound, the reason you could never fully isolate yourself. And you’re now realizing just how grateful you are for that; there’s no way you could ever break up with her.

“I don’t know what I want to do… but I do know whatever I choose, I want to do it with you.” You voice, watching Wanda’s concerned look turn warm. “I’m sorry for all of this, I really-“

“No,” She interrupts, moving a hand to your cheek. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to be unsure, you’re allowed to feel.” You both wear a matching smile, and suddenly—you feel confident that everything can work out, regardless if you’re an Avenger or not. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always have Wanda.

[stormsplurge]

nobody's fool

warnings: none!

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

1239 words

a/n: its not directly inspired by the song but i've been listening to shes always a woman by billy joel on repeat for the last 2 days which is where the title comes from. it's also not proofread at all so please ignore any typos or spelling errors. i hope you guys enjoy this one!

“oh my GOD!” you squealed as the last couple of seconds of the game ticked by on the jumbotron and the “canes win” rang out through the arena. 

the hurricanes had won their first game of their series against the rangers, and the entire building was buzzing.

you could feel nykki next to you screaming her lungs out as the two of you jumped up and down in your seats.

a couple of days ago, after returning from new york and losing to the rangers again, you saw a fire get lit under your boyfriend (and the entire teams) ass. they had come back to playoffs with something to prove, trying not to get swept for the second year in a row, and they’d pulled it off. 

as you walked with the other wags towards the locker room you felt a sudden jolt of energy run through your body. after the last game everyone had been down, seth especially. his tendency to place all the blame on himself was in full force, but this win was exactly what he needed to pull himself out of his head.

you were in the middle of making small talk with gracia when the boys began trailing out of the locker room. brady was one of the first ones out, wrapping his arms around his wife as soon as he was within arms reach of her.

“we’re all heading to the bar.” he said. “you and ton of fun should come.”

“thanks for the invite skjeisy.” you replied, before your boyfriend entered your eyeline. 

you shot out a quick “see you there!” before bouncing towards the entrance to the locker room, practically jumping into seths arms. 

“congratulations!” you giggled as he hooked his arm around your waist and began walking the two of you towards the parking lot. 

if you were enthusiastic about the win, seth was practically bursting at the seams with excitement. his trademark giddiness shining around him like a halo.

“oh my god!” he exclaimed as the two of you made it outside. “i have no idea how we pulled that off.”

“i know how.” you replied. “you guys are fucking awesome thats how.”

“you’re my good luck charm you know, we wouldnt have done it without you.”

“whatever you say jarvy.” you said as your cheeks begin to heat up. 

seth was always selfless, insisting that every win was because of anyone but him. doing everything to shine the spotlight on someone else. 

——

as the two of you drove towards the bar you reminisced on your first christmas in winnipeg together. 

it was a white christmas, something you weren’t used to seeing as you had never lived as far north as seth had, and kayden was telling you about how eager seth was to get on the ice with his brother and his friends. he was smaller than all the other guys but still itching to play with them, begging their mom to let him play for a couple more minutes everytime she insisted he get off the ice and take a break.

seth was too busy helping his mom with something to notice that his brother was telling you every embarrassing story he could possibly think of. blowing through the kitchen like a tornado helping as fast as possible so he could get back to his spot right next to you in front of the fireplace. 

kayden was in the middle of telling you about the first year seth was with the winterhawks, how he’d call their parents every night complaining about how much he missed home, when your boyfriend returned to his spot amidst the piles of wrapping paper littered around the living room. 

“kayden!” he exclaims as he sits down. “stop telling embarrassing stories about me you asshole.”

“i’m just telling her what she deserves to know.” kayden responds, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before a throw pillow lands in his face.

seth lets out a long groan before getting up and pulling you with him, slowly dragging you towards his room. the walls littered with duke memorabilia and hockey stuff. 

“he’s such a dick” he whines as he shuffles towards his desk. 

“i think its hilarious.” you reply, making yourself comfortable on your boyfriends bed, craning you neck to try and figure out what he’s trying to find as he rattles through the drawers. 

it isn’t long before he whirls around, a small turquoise box in his hands, and sits in front of you. 

“seth…” you question, “what is this.”

“okay.” he rambles, opening the box and revealing a small necklace within. “i got my mom a car the first year i played, and my dad a car last year, so this year i wanted to get you something nice.”

tears began welling up in the corners of you eyes as he continued his speech.

“… i wasn’t really sure what to get cause you already have a bunch of really nice stuff back home in raleigh, so i asked nykki for help cause she knows that type of stuff and we picked this out.”

the necklace was a simple circle attached to a chain, with one end of the circle wider than the other end. minimalistic, but beautiful.

“oh my god…” you responded. “i don’t even know what to say.”

the gesture alone was enough to bring you to tears. the drops of salty water streaming down your face and pooling at your chin. 

you were at a loss for words, so you opted for closing the gap between you and seth and pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“do you like it?” he asked after you broke the kiss, finally coming up for air.

“i love it seth it’s beautiful.” you replied and you turned and exposed the back of your neck. “do you want to help me put it on?”

“oh yeah yes totally yes please.” seth jumbled out, words falling out of his mouth like loose teeth.

“don’t act like you’ve never seen the back of my neck before.” you joked, turning to face him after he closed the clapse.

“it’s just, like, different this time i guess.”

“youre adorable when you’re flustered.” you remarked, placing your hands on the sides of his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek. “i guess that means i’ll have to get you to help me put on all my necklaces if i want to keep seeing you like this.”

“i would gladly help you put on every piece of jewelry, you don’t even have to say please.”

“careful mr jarvis, someone might hear you and think you’re in love.”

“i’ll shout it from the rooftops i dont care.” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air and puffing up his chest. “i’m in love!”

“this is the best christmas gift ever” you giggle, falling back onto the bed in your fit of laughter. seth quickly flopping down next to you. 

as you finished reminiscing and found yourself back in the present, sitting in the passenger seat of seth’s beat up old volkswagon, playing with the tiffany necklace around your neck. 

“i love you.” you said as you brought your free hand over top of where seth’s right hand was positioned on top of your leg, tracing circles over the top of his hand. “i know i say it all the time but i’m so proud of you.”

“i love you too.”

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter two - moly blossoms

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 2589

author's note: i want to thank each and every one of your for the likes and reblogs on my first chapter!!! big smooches to you lil cuties.

song inspiration: japanese denim by daniel caesar

Trailing behind Hermione, you eventually made it to the dungeons where your first Potions lesson of the year awaited. Walking across the threshold of the entrance, you made sure to keep the door open for two of your classmates walking a little ways behind you. The first of the two, Lorenzo Berkshire, flashed a bright smile at you in thanks. The two of you had been friendly over the years at Hogwarts, sharing a number of advanced classes. You had spent a few late nights at the library together cramming for finals, only to celebrate at The Three Broomsticks with a congratulatory butterbeer when you both received prefect scores. Enzo, the nickname he preferred to go by, was an absolute sweetheart and kind friend.  

The second of the pair walked behind his more cheerful friend in stony silence. He muttered a barely discernible, “Grazie,” to you as he passed into the Potions classroom. You caught a whiff of his cologne, something that reminded you of crackling fires, balsam firs, and fresh snow.

His name was Theodore Nott.

In comparison to his friend, you didn’t have much to say to or about him. In fact, Nott didn’t have much to say, well, ever. Among the gaggle of Slytherins he and Enzo hung around, he was the quietest and the most brilliant—often giving Hermione a run for her money for the top spot, especially when it came to Potions. You knew he played on the Slytherin quidditch team, but you hadn’t the foggiest as to which position he occupied. But that was it. You didn’t really know him, only of him.

Realizing you had been standing and propping the door open long after the two boys had walked through, you moved to shut the hefty door. You turned only to see the small number of your classmates huddling around a piece of paper, a list of some kind. As you entered your seventh year, your Potions classes had steadily thinned out as the requirements became increasingly more stringent. Even through Professor Slughorn was more than happy to accept students who received Es on their N.E.W.T.s, Snape’s years of teaching had put many students off the subject. Frankly, you couldn’t blame them.

In your third year, while brewing doxycide, you had made an error in adding wolfsbane essence instead of the required cowbane essence. The contents of your cauldron proceeded to explode on you. The potion was particularly foul-smelling and disturbingly thick; it had also ended up in your eyes. Rather than sending you immediately to the infirmary, Snape had made you clean it up—bloody blind, you might add—before you were on your way to Madam Pomfrey. You had lost ten house points. Safe to say, you loathed the man. You had only agreed to Hermione’s pestering to join her in the advanced courses of Potions because Slughorn had taken the post…and the promise that she would help you should you need it.

Shirking the memory, you moved to Hermione’s side in hopes of seeing what she and the rest of the class were peering at. The parchment in front of you listed out eight pairs of two students—assigned Potions partners for the year.

You quickly pulled Hermione back from the fray by her arm. “You promised you would help me if I took this class with you! Now you can’t even be my Potions partner!”

Hermione batted your arm away. “Oh, please Y/n! No need to be so dramatic all the time. I can still help even if I’m not your partner. Besides you won’t even need it.”

You squinted your eyes at her, “And why is that? Because I’m so bloody brilliant? I’m out of practice and you know that!”

Your reply was met with rolling eyes. “For the love of Godric, Y/n, you’ll be fine. You and I both know you can handle this class.” She paused. “But that’s not what I meant. Didn’t you see who your partner is?”

“Um…no.” In the fuss of realizing you wouldn’t be with Hermione you had failed to check just who your partner would be. “I was a little distracted by the fact that I’ve practically been abandoned—betrayed even—”

Hermione flicked you on the forehead. “Enough with the melodrama. Nott’s your partner. It’ll be grand. He’s… brilliant in Potions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at her hesitation. If there was one thing Hermione Granger did not enjoy, it was academic competition, something that Nott’s proficiency in Potions promised. “Killed you to say that didn’t it? How does it feel to be one of us mere mortals of average intelligence, ‘Mione—"

Hermione let out a huff before pinching you lightly on the arm. “Oh, shove off. Go to your station, your partner is impatiently waiting. He’s been staring at you for the past two minutes.”

That got you to quickly spin around to meet Nott’s blue-green eyes looking fixedly into your own.

Oops.

You quickly moved away from Hermione and shuffled over to where Theodore stood. Turning to your partner, you tried to make some small talk while waiting for Slughorn to begin class, “I’m guessing you wish you had been paired with Enzo, right?”

Theodore stared at you. He blinked once. Then again. Before replying, “…Right.”

Well, he certainly isn’t one for pleasant conversation. Godric bless the soul that gets stuck talking to him at a cocktail party, you thought to yourself.

“’Spose it won’t be too bad though, yeah? Everyone knows you’ve gotten the best scores in Potions each year—we’ll be alright.” Your attempt at conversation was once more met Theodore’s stoic façade, your efforts to converse metaphorically falling into the awkward silence between you.

Theodore just repeated his monosyllabic reply. “Right.”

Smiling self-consciously, you placed your books on top of your station as you sat down, just as Slughorn finally made an appearance.

Thank Godric for the silly old man.

“Welcome to the second sequence of Advanced Potions! In order to determine if you’ve all properly reviewed your Advanced Potion Making texts over your summer holidays, I’ve crafted a little exercise with the help of Professor Sprout.” Pausing his speech, Slughorn waved his wand, drifting eight blooms of moly flowers to each station. You let out a quiet gasp.

Ever since your third year, moly flowers had been your favorite. First encountering them in Potions while brewing wiggenweld potion, you had become enamored with the gentle and elegant white blooms and its distinctive black stems and leaves that denoted moly flowers. It didn’t escape your notice either that they were able to counteract a number of enchantments, but that fact didn’t measure up to the quiet beauty of the blossoms you had grown to admire. When you wound up in the infirmary after your adolescent explosion of doxycide, Hermione had brought a single stem of a moly flower to your bedside—a feat not easily done. It had involved begging Professor Sprout for some of the moly she grew in the greenhouse.  Despite Professor Spout’s reluctance to part with the blooms, due to the flower’s value, both monetarily and magically, Hermione had successfully commandeered one. Hermione was, for a lack of a better term, ‘that witch.’ And you loved her for it. Hermione’s efforts and that sweet memory had solidified the ardent admiration you had for molies from that moment onward.

One of the blooms floated towards you and gently, you grasped the onyx stem. Lightly touching one of the four pearlescent petals, you smiled at the memory you forever associated them with before someone brought you out of your haze.

“Y/n.” You turned your gaze to your left where Theodore was watching you expectantly.

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present. “Sorry, what was that?”

Your obvious confusion at what was going on seemed to bring the smallest of smirks to Theodore’s lips.

So, he can smile…Interesting.

“We’re meant to identify the thirteen potions moly blooms are used in along with its medicinal capabilities. Think you can handle the task, L/n?” Besides the fact that you were in awe that Theodore could string that many words together all at once, you were stunned at the challenge he seemed to set forth. His tone seemed to question whether you could do anything besides dumbly stare at a flower bloom, completely unaware as to what Slughorn tasked you to do.

The man probably thinks I’m going to slack off since he’s so proficient in Potions. Even if I am not as naturally talented as him at the subject, I am still a good student—with principles, nonetheless! The gall of the man!

You scoffed, placing the flower on the table before turning fully towards the Slytherin. “Please, Nott. Have a little faith. Contrary to your belief, I do know what I’m doing…at least most of the time.”

Theodore picked up the moly bloom from where you had placed down on the table. He gently twirled it in his large hands, which easily dwarfed the small blossom. “Guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we?” Those stormy eyes returned to your own. It was the first time you had seen them without a veil of indifference.

“Just you wait, Nott. I’m going to be the best Potions partner you’ve ever had.” Theodore raised his eyebrows at your bold conjecture. “Now, hand me a quill and a piece of parchment.”

Later that day, you trudged up to your room with Hermione following behind you. As you were both Muggleborns, you and Hermione had bonded over Muggle fiction over the years; it had brought you closer among the sea of Purebloods and Halfbloods who were more than content to disdain at your blood staus. Over the last summer, you had both agreed to select a book for the other to read. Hermione had already given you her copy of Little Women, so you were eager to give her your battered edition of Wuthering Heights. Chatting about your respective choices of literature, you unlocked the door, eager to flop onto your bed. However, as you neared your bedframe, rest seemed to be the last thing on your mind.

Hermione’s nose was still buried in her gifted copy of Little Women. “I’ve put a couple markers in places I want you to pay attention to. There’s this once instance with Amy, where Laurie just—oof!” Having not noticed your silence and lack of movement, Hermione bumped right into your back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—wait…what’s that there?”

Hermione’s attention now turned towards the thing resting upon one of your pillows. Her thick brows furrowed as you cocked your head in confusion. The thing was a small bouquet of moly flowers in full bloom. They were carefully bound together by a thin white silk ribbon, perfectly matching the delicate petals. In the afternoon light coming through the windows, the flowers seemed to glisten. The flowers were gorgeous…but why were they here?

You turned to Hermione. “You mean, you didn’t put them there?”

Your friend quickly shook her head ‘no.’ “How could I? I’ve been with you all day, remember?”

You nodded mutely. Hermione was right, there would have been no opportunity for her to put them on your bed, let alone procure them from Professor Sprout. Considering her account of trying to obtain the precious blossoms in your third year, you doubted Hermione would have gone through the trouble without good reason.

You mentally scratched your head. “I suppose you didn’t do it, ‘Mione, but who else?” You gingerly picked up the bouquet, thoughtfully considering the angelic blooms. You gently rubbed the silk ribbon between your forefinger and thumb. “I reckon you’re the only one who knows how much I like them. Did anyone ask you about what flowers I like recently?”

Hermione shook her head. You trusted that Hermione wouldn’t lie, not about something like this. For two of the brightest students at Hogwarts, the pair of you were stumped.  

“Maybe it’s someone from our Potions class—did you mention that you liked them to anyone? To Nott maybe?” At her last question, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. You shook your head.

“Please, Nott spoke all of three sentences to me today and it was the longest conversation I’ve ever had with the guy. Besides, I didn’t mention anything to him.” You handed the flowers to Hermione as you sat down on your bed, hands behind you as you leaned back. Just as you were about to shut your eyes, trying to wrack your mind for who could have possibly sent it, you felt something just under your fingertips. Grasping it and bringing it forward, you found that it was a folded piece of parchment, which you opened slowly, half expecting something odd to pop out given the strangeness of the bouquet’s appearance. Instead, all you found was a note written in handwriting that could only be described as a boyish scrawl. It read:

Y/n,

Moly flowers, for you. Beautiful, for a beauty.

Yours,

Teddy

You reread the note, perhaps ten times, before asking the question on both of your minds, “Who the fuck is Teddy?”

Thirty minutes passed. By now, you had scrounged up a vase to place the flowers in by your bedside. You and Hermione lay sprawled across your bed, trying to solve the mystery of who this elusive ‘Teddy’ was.

“I don’t get it,” Hermione said, “There’s no one at Hogwarts named ‘Teddy.’ It must stand for something. Maybe an acronym. Oh! Maybe a pseudonym or a pen name.” Hermione continued to prattle off possibilities as you stared blankly at the fabric hanging off your bedframe.

Breaking your reverie you conjectured, “Maybe it wasn’t meant for me?” At that, Hermione flicked your forehead for the second time that day. “Ow! Stop that! I think you enjoy doing that a bit too much for my liking. I’m going to bruise.” She gave you a blank look.

“Y/n.”

“…Hermione.”

“Your name is in the bloody note. It’s most definitely intended for you.”

Solid logic, ‘Mione.

“Well, regardless, I haven’t the faintest idea who fancies me, who this Teddy is, or how he got his hands on an entire bouquet of molies,” you said. “Godric knows you had a difficult enough time getting Professor Sprout to part with one blossom, let alone a whole bunch.”

Hermione hummed at that and replied, “He either stole the blossoms from Sprout’s greenhouse, somehow managed to ger her to depart with twelve blooms willingly, or he’s wealthy enough to have purchased them. Either way, he’s gone through a good deal of trouble—possibly literal criminal trouble—to do something sweet for you. Whoever he is, he clearly cares about you.”

Turning to face her, you cheekily replied, “Are you sure this isn’t some grand plot to express your sweet, passionate love for me?” You batted your eyelashes at her, causing her to laugh and hit you with one of the nearby pillows. “Hey! Not near my molies!” You pleaded.

With a mirthful smile, Hermione said, “As much as I love you, I don’t like you enough to go through all that trouble. Sorry!” This time, your hit her with the pillow. The two of you roared with laughter as you swatted and swung at the other with the various pillows on your bed. Eventually the both of you settled down, resting on your bed once more. In the silence, your mind turned once more to the puzzling question at hand.

Who was this ‘Teddy’?

[bowbowcherry]

NSFW MDNII>

Mean!Toji x fem!reader

Warning:Age gap(ofc.reader 20, tojimid 30s ) nasty slurping,spit,male musk,Toji. Pubes,

First post uhhh this was supposed be shorter but uh yeah I went out kinda? Sorry if there's errors or whateve. I feel like I didn't put enough dirty stuff ugh 😩

Cream team

Slurping the cream. The cream, the mess YOU made. Looking up at toji with those big doe eyes. Hands on his muscled thighs feeling them flex. Your fingers gripping here and there. Him standing over you, his dominance oozing out of him. It's almost like you can see it coming off in steam.

You slurping, licking your cute little sticky tongue, leaving a long wet trail behind on his heavy cock. Licking up the cream you left behind from coming. Your pussy still leaking, dripping onto the floor. still throbbing and pulsating, clenching from the after shock with all the orgasm he ripped from your little pussy.

His cock always bullies your pussy.

Your hand rubbing his tip making sticky noises while so. "Nasty bitch.." toji grunted, looking down at you with mean eyes, tilting his head to the side. "Mmm, gross ass bitch." You look up at him with those cute submissive eyes. His cock throbs, the submissive attitude, those eyes, that body, pussy, it always gets to him.

"Do you always what older mans cock? You don't have daddy's issue, your just a Gross perverted girl. Huh baby?" He taps your cheek woth two fingers. Your so out of it. As you should be. Your just slurping away on his cock. He told you to clean it up. Of course you would. Being so submissive. As you should be.

Still slurping and and licking up the cream. Smelling in his musk. Licking at his base, feeling his black pubes tickle you. Your eyes rolling, tasting yourself. Your hand rubbing up and down now. Slick slick slick sound coming from it. The juices mixing together. "Disgusting" he grunts. Spitting onto your face, you flinched. He chuckles. Meanie.

" Your such a loser..how would you feel if your goodie family found out your letting me stretch and gap your pussy hole, huh? Sucking my fat cock, licking your Gross cream off it, huh? Coming over every weekend whineing and groaning just to get some cock? Yeah baby? Your not much of a good girl are you baby?" Toji rambles.

You nod not paying attention when you have a feast to lick up and suck.

[yourreliablenarrator]

“Displeasure”

⇢ Leon Scott Kennedy x Fem reader

[Contains: Profanity, some suggestiveness, drinking (mostly wine and whiskey), this is Leon from RE4R (after the mission with Ashley).]

Trope: Enemies to lovers(?).

Word Count: Idk (I’M SORRY Y’ALL 💀)

Note: This is my ever first attempt to make a small, little one-shot. Of course, there are going to be some errors and mistakes in my work, and it’s been a while since I last wrote something. This also my first time writing and posting it public, so I am both nervous and excited all at the same time! <3

P.S.: Also, if you have any criticism or concerns about what I write or how I wrote in this oneshot, please don’t hesitate! I really don’t mind any criticism since that will help me to write better and more efficient! Thank you so much!

(Edit (7/22/24): Forgot to mention that I did rush this and I do promise not to do this mistake again since I want for people, like you, to enjoy content like this. 💛)

He couldn't figure out why he agreed to attend this party organized by his colleagues. He wasn't really into parties, unless they offered drinks to help him forget about his own emotions and problems.

The music pumps through his ears as he navigates the crowd. Every sense was bombarded by various stimuli, especially from the partygoers. Nevertheless, he persists in pushing through the throng of people.

All he was going to do was have a few drinks and then leave without uttering a word. Or, well, that's what he planned in his mind, and he hoped not to have any interruptions from any of his coworkers.

As he walked up to the bar, muttering a request to the bartender to give him two shots of whiskey. The man behind the counter only gave Leon a nod in response and walks away to fix him up some glasses.

While he was waiting, more like spacing out, he notices that someone sits next to him. Yet, he decided to pay no attention to them as he keeps his gaze trained to the wood counter.

However, the person’s voice next to him catches his attention.

“Fancy seeing you here, Leon.”

Quickly, he turns to look at the person next to him, only to realize that it was you. Of course it had to be you out of anyone in this building.

You and Leon didn’t have the best relationship with one another. You both bicker and make snarky comments to each other. Every time you teamed up in a mission, you and him always left with the most annoyed look on your faces. No one knows what happens during those missions, but at least you both get the job done.

You were wearing a red, skimpy dress—something to catch his eye and makes his face redden. He almost wanted to look up and down your body and make a flirtatious comment, but he hated you—right?

He lets out a tired scoff, turning away from you the moment he realized that his small cups were already in front of him. He grasps one of the shot-glasses with narrowed eyes, his teeth gritted together.

“What do you want?” He grumbles in a low, displeased tone, taking a quick sip of his whiskey.

“Why do you always think I want something from you?” You responded with another question, he could feel your eyes trailing up and down his body, almost making him want to shiver.

“Because whenever you’re around me with that cocky, little grin, you either want to annoy the hell out of me or you’re that drunk and you want to make out with me.” He explains, which only made you feel more amused.

“Touché,” you mutter with a bigger smile, trying to keep yourself from laughing.

Leon only rolls his eyes in response, taking the last sip from his second shot of whiskey. When he places it down on the counter, his eyes were now on your face, which had a big smile.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle you or kiss you senseless.

“Can you leave me alone?” He asked, adverting his gaze from you once more and looks back at the bartender who gave him a third glass.

“Well, can we talk?” You ask him with a raised brow, leaning your chest against the counter to try and catch his gaze, but it was a futile effort.

”’Bout what?” He asked, looking down at his small cup.

“About us.”

Confused, Leon’s face immediately turned towards yours once more, realizing that you weren’t joking about this. It was slightly surprising since, well, you weren’t exactly a girl that would take anything seriously as much as he does.

“…Like what?” He added, shifting his body so he didn’t have to keep his heard turned while his body was towards the counter.

“Well,” you began, shifting closer to him on your seat, “we’ve accidentally been at each other’s throats ever since we first met. I don’t think that we should… well, y’know, be enemies, I guess?”

“You guess?”

You only shrugged your shoulders in response.

Hesitant, Leon ponders at the prospect at being friends—or at least allies—anytime you both went on missions. It did seem tempting, but he was clearly reluctant since this was so sudden.

“Look,” he began with a sigh, shaking his head. “If it’s just because you want to sleep with me, then I don’t really care about being on good terms with you.”

“Nah,” you answered.

He exhales sharply, gripping at his small shot of whiskey in his grasp.

“Alright,” he answered, turning his gaze back onto the counter in front of him. “Only on one condition: you stop giving me those weird looks like you are right now.”

He doesn’t want to admit, but those “weird looks” were making his heart flutter and his pale cheeks more flushed with color.

“Deal.” You responded before raising your cup up with a smile. “Cheers to a new friendship.”

He scoffs at first, but finally raises his glass before he quickly chugs it like he hasn’t drank anything for a week.

“Damn,” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side. “Calm down, Leon. Does that whiskey even touch your tongue?”

“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit.”

…

Hours passed, most of the people who were here for a good time were starting to leave. Yet, you both were still there on the same seats you were on for the last few hours.

You both were pretty drunk, and Leon usually had a high tolerance to alcohol and could hold in his liquor, but he was probably on his fifth drink of the night besides the first few whiskeys he had at the start of the night.

He was starting to loosen up to you.

Well, he already was, but maybe a bit too comfortable around you.

He was rather a bit touchy when he was drunk, and you didn’t really expect that from him. In all seriousness, most people would assume that he was a sleepy drunk or maybe even an idiot when he was drunk, but not this flirtatious.

Yet, you didn’t really mind this.

It was finally time when you both decided to part ways for the night; or that’s what you planned to.

Just as about you were head to the door, something came over Leon that almost made him want to shout stop and ask you not to leave. Instead of doing that, his subconscious thought immediately went to grasp your wrist. It was firm, but gentle.

When you turned to him, his face was flushed, but you weren’t sure if it was because how much he drank… or if this was something else?

“Hey,” he began in a low, gentle manner.

“Yeah?” You asked with a small grin, trying not to snort at how his words were slurred together.

“Do…” his voice trails off, as if he was afraid of being rejected by you. “Do you wanna come over to my house tonight?”

He was caught off guard by what he just had asked. Yet, he still did it anyways, and now he was holding his breath and waits for your response.

Then, you finally gave him a sweet, sultry smile in the process. You took a small step towards him before pushing your lips against his, pulling him into a passionate, warm kiss.

When you both pulled away, you look at him with a chuckle.

“Sure,” you replied. “Hope you don’t mind staying up late.”

He laughs in response. “Don’t mind.”

He pulls away from you before he takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers with his. Finally, you both start to leave the party with big, excited grins on your faces.

It seems like neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[imaginedisish]

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

[thesamoanqueen]

All Dat

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: Smut; errors like always

A/N: I’ll be out for a couple days since is MITB week, but I always do my duty.

She had worked most of the day, watching over and over hours of material, old edits, reading tons of interviews with all the same questions that would probably have been discarded as soon as they arrived. Working away from the creative team without being able to have immediate comparisons was complicated, but she had found a way to make it work anyway, to be efficient and always beyond expectations. She was willing to make more than a few sacrifices to keep herself independent and still be as present as possible in their relationship, especially if she was repaid with a good glass of wine and a dip in the pool with Roman. Well, frankly Roman was all she needed, but that was a whole other story and he kept spoiling her like it was his life's mission so… she could take advantage of the whole package.

-Mmh… this one doesn't get out of here – he greeted her, swimming up to her, to put himself between her legs and wrap his arms around her hips like a vice.

She liked to always look neat, look in her best shape and yes, even show off a bit. It made her feel good about herself, was a boost to her energy, a pamper to her mood and Roman hadn't skimped on compliments since they'd met. Not a single day.

She knew he said it to give her attention and that he appreciated it, but she also knew that new bikini wasn't going to show up for any beach trips or vacations really. Her big boy was possessive and jealous if someone crossed the line and the stuff she was wearing was a bit too an clear invitation to look more and more. She had bought it online, from an exclusive collection in which it looked different from what she was wearing and it bothered her a little, because making images and shots work was her job. The top was fine, it showed what it was supposed to, covered what it needed, but the bottom… either her hips had stretched out more than they should without asking permission or it was the bikini’s fault. It barely covered her under there and Roman or not, she liked to show off with class, she wasn't that kind of woman.

- I don't even know why I bough it – she admitted with a snort, feeling him kiss her stomach, stroking her back and sides with full hands, while she fixed it for the umpteenth time, the water of the pool rising between them and then ending up beyond the edge due to their movements.

- Cause you're gorgeous and you take care of me - Roman smiled amused, slipping his fingers between the aquamarine laces wrapped around her curves.

- You? Since when my bikini is yo business?

- Since everything under these tiny strips is ma business and you’re always good with me – he announced incredibly seriously, leaving another trail of kisses on her belly, to then go down a little more, dedicating himself to her thighs.

Unable to hold back her smile, Y/N started playing with his hair, quiting the attempt to put the bikini in its place to caress him, while he showed her all the attentions as always. She felt his beard brush along her skin, his full lips petting her inner thigh before biting down lightly, hands holding her firmly in place. From the top of the poolside, she watched him move slowly and inexorably in the water, the muscles of his shoulders shiny, the reflection of the lights along the edge of the pool, highlighting his dark tattoo.

- You've been home for an hour… less? – she reflected amused, already knowing how it would end up and she cocked her head when Roman undid the first knot on her hips, still kissing her.

His big hands pulled her towards him, securing her legs on his shoulders, licking a few drops off her caramel skin.

- Im thirsty - he said hoarsely, Y/N holding him by the strands on his head, feeling him go down to the thin strip of cloth that barely covered her.

- Ain't takin you a drink… - yet another mark printed between her legs, a kiss on her abused skin, fingers pulling another lace.

The already ridiculous fabric of her bikini fell off either side of her, bonding to her bare body only at her neck, but Roman left it in place just long enough to bring her eyes back to him.

- Mama taugh me how to do things, I can get myself a drink - he assured with a more deadly expression and Y/N really wanted to laugh, but he stole her breath by placing a sloppy kiss on her mouth and then slipped fully back in the water.

Y/N followed him with her eyes, delighted as always, affectionately scratching the back of his neck as he claimed his place between her legs. She brushed a strand from his face, feeling the heat building in her chest even before it got between her legs, refraining from jumping on him and kissing him for the rest of the evening, night, even her whole life, when Roman planted his eyes on her as he began his work. He pounced on her unhurriedly, spreading her folds with two fingers to give a first lick along her opening. Y/N moaned in excitement at his touch, snuggling her leg a little on his shoulder, seeing him smile cocky as he gave her yet another kiss on the soft thigh before diving into her core. His tongue was a fat pro, and each time he traced her moist contours to sink deep inside her opening, Y/N pulled him a little closer, one hand planted firmly on his head.

- Hn… like this – she encouraged him, fingers tightening in his dark hair, loosening the bun.

- It's been a long…-his mouth sucking first one fold-… day…-then the other-… I missed you – inexorable.

- … I missed you t-ah!

His beard itched against her sensitive skin, pool’s water slowly mixing with her moods each time he spread his mouth wide to eat her, dripping from his face. Y/N felt his breath against her button and belly twisting as he slowly fucked her with his tongue, the liquid heat building inexorably in his eyes and in her core. She rotated her hips instinctively trying to raise it, holding him in place with her hand, because patience under those circumstances really wasn't for her, but Roman locked her down with a gaze. Y/N saw his brow furrow and soon his white teeth slowly pinch at her knot of nerves, causing her to fall in a spasm to rest her back on the stone floor of the pool. She closed her eyes, feeling his big body come forward, pull her forward and soon found herself gasping at the slowly darkening sky. She felt his long fingers, joining the amazing work of his mouth, stroking her, rubbing against her smooth skin, spreading her folds, one hand feeling her stomach, holding her still more successfully than she had ever had with him.

For an unspecified time, Roman kept slowly to prepare her, warming her without haste and Y/N panting towards nowhere, feet now crossed behind his neck to have him close. Under her hands, her breasts naked and wet, rising chasing the increasingly hot breath, fingers that every now and then ended up on the grass beyond the poolside strip. Y/N had the feel that Roman was recharging her, licking away all the excess thoughts of her mind, stripping her of them as easily as he had stripped her of that obscene tiny bikini.

- Turn around and rise that pretty ass – she heard him order almost from afar, but when Y/N reopened her eyes and raised her head, he was already on his knees on the bench inside the pool.

His legs were half immersed, his swimsuit low to leave his hardness ready and shiny for the water. The pool’s lights gave him a dangerous look and Y/N couldn't take her eyes off him until he helped her back up, pinching her side to encourage her to do as he said. He kissed her nose, out of pure affection and she let out a languid smile, sliding her stomach onto the pool’s floor, feeling the rough ground against her nipples, moaning because of it and Ro’s hands. She felt his thighs rub against her ass, the weight of his hard cock past the curve of her buttocks, fingers dragging over her messy opening.

- Don't hold back - she asked in a cry, rocking her body against him once, before he slipped inside her effortlessly, filling her to the bottom.

- Lemme do my things - he said hoarsely, giving a long thrust that left her gasping and immediately another.

Y/N found herself resting her cheek on the ground, staring without really seeing the grass in the garden, the lights twinkling along the walkways, near the deck chairs, flickering as if she was drunk. Roman fucked her slowly and good, his movements were overpowering and for each thrust, Y/N felt his dick slamming against the bottom of her walls, in that sweet weak point that he always seemed to find in any circumstance and position. Her heat kept to build slowly, from the bottom of her belly, from his fingers holding up her hips, from the drops of water that dripped down his chest between their bodies, from the water splashing everywhere. His slow movement made her rub against the floor, her nipples harden and her moans breaking as they reached her throat. Her walls reached out to take him in until she felt completely exposed, holding on to his shaft as he mercilessly opened her, holding him as if they were afraid of him running away from her. Thrust after thrust, powerful, massive, the slimy sound of water and bodies colliding.

- Such a good girl… making Daddy hap-py – Roman growled low and Y/N nodded instinctively, quickly, feeling his hard cock throbbing inside her and the pace increasing.

- Y-yes-please yes

Roman was capable of accelerating almost unnaturally and she never resisted when it happened, begging hopelessly, slamming her hips into him for a better grip, for more even as her folds began to throb nonstop. She felt his strong arm pull her over him, pass under her stomach, to force her back against his broad chest and then come back to rest on her hip, his other hand holding her throat, kissing her shoulder.

-R-Roo ahn – the control he had over her body was almost toxic, but Y/N liked it.

She liked listening to his quicken breathing, his growls of pleasure growing dangerous, lower, synchronized with the throb of her spongy walls contracting, squeezing his full length. She adored his mouth biting her neck, her ear, fingers holding her throat without ever squeezing. She rubbed excitedly on him, fragile against his huge body, gasping as he guided them both to their climax, closer and lower, switching between the raw and slow pace to drive her crazy.

- I-im clo-se

- I know… ssh, fuck

Another kiss, more sloppy, but equally full of love, before bending her again, forcing her to put hands on the floor. Y/N let her head hang down, hair covering her face, as she gathered up what little clarity remained and then lifted it, gasping as she felt Roman give a couple more thrusts, long and confused, his hardness banging between the her walls pleading for a release. She moved back, trying to stay in place as possible and with the umpteenth hit on her sweet spot, she collapsed arching again with a strangled cry and almost immediately feeling Roman empty inside her from the spasms of her core. Gasping and rocking to the full curve of her orgasm, Y/N let him do with her as he pleased, pounding her again and again, until his cock had nothing more to give and he let go too, pulling her onto the bench inside the pool with him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face under his head, still feeling him inside her, hands still gripping her hips. They stayed like this for a couple on minutes, silence cradling them.

- Maybe I could keep that bikini – she murmured at some point, hearing his low laugh, hands caressing her lazily.

- Keep what you want babygirl… all dat stuff won’t stay in place anyway

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816

[austinbutlerslovers]

a possessive and yandere austin butler with zero social media. Smut and jealousy and angsty. Super yandere. Thank you so much. My bday is in a few days and like i have some wishes that i have been praying come true so i would love your kind hearted blessings. Tysm!!!

~*Austin’s Angst *~

Austin is stressed all of his movies are on hold and he fears for his future. He traps you in his house and physically neglects you for days all consumed in worry with his work. You finally have enough and he can either please you or push you away.

Label mature 18+

Established relationship living together

Angst• yandere • arguing •jealousy • coercion• sub Austin (if you squint) •orgasm female • simultaneous orgasm•after care • fluffy fluff domestic ending

Inspo by request : I’ve never heard of Yandere this is my first time writing it wish me luck 🤭 thank you for the request Happy Birthday 🎂

(Spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, repeat words etc)

~*Austins Angst *~

Austin was in a mood lately all of his recent projects being halted and the writers strike effectively cutting him off from the movies he so passionately starred in. It would be an understatement to say it wasn’t affecting things at home.

Most days he would have a chef come by and cook all your meals and a runner collect your day to day items while he wandered the house on the phone with his agent and his team figuring out what he should be doing. Adding to the stress was the social media aspect which he avoided entirely wanting to dedicate himself completely to his craft. It made his team scramble to come up with unique ways to use others to promote his content without involving him.

He didn’t want to go out in public, he didn’t want to be seen or photographed. If you tried to leave or go out for anything the security system would alert his phone and he’d hold his phone call or stop his task to come and ensure that you would remain in the house.

Most nights he was too stressed or anxious to be playful or sweet. You two would have deep discussions on the importance of acting and how to “find more truth” and when you thought the writers strike in Hollywood would end. He would usually fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you wanting to feel completely comforted as he slept.

You could tell he was hurting and stressed about his career and he was spiraling so obsessed with worry you couldn’t figure out how to pull him out of it. All he wanted to do was watch his favorite old movies, read books, and talk on the phone stressing over his job.

After 5 days you were pretty wound up, you decided you could get out for a little while as he slept. He had his arm draped over you affectionately you gently put it on the bed were you were resting and snuck out to the bathroom.

You brush your teeth then turn on the shower it is instantly set to temperature. You step in and daze off enjoying the feeling of the water washing over you emptying your mind of any worrisome thoughts. As you exfoliate with your sea sponge it becomes overwhelming clear that you need a relief the sadness finally hitting you being so wound up in him you were forgetting yourself. You rinse off all over and turn the shower off.

As your dry off you stare at your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror overlooking your soft skin and beautiful legs, you lean in closer framing your hands on your pretty face. You wondered why he hadn’t touched you in days you definitely needed to be satisfied.

He was never in the mood this week growing cold or changing the subject when you tried sneaking in longer kisses or trailing your hand across his lap during his movies. He would take your hand, kiss it then hold onto it so you couldn’t try any more tricks.

It made you feel a little pain in your chest as you thought about it, you shrugged it off and decided to plan a workout to get rid of the tension in your body. You checked your clock it was 7:24 am you could easily book the 9:00am yoga class under your gym membership. You clicked a few agreements on the phone app and you were set.

You went into the walk in closet and picked out a white 2 piece sports bra and legging set. Putting these on always made you feel so sexy you looked like an angel in white you pulled your hair up into a pony tail and posed in the mirror, turning to the side the fabric accentuating your ass.

You picked a white bag to match and quietly snuck down to the kitchen to fill your water bottle and find your keys and AirPods. Once you set foot at the bottom of the stairs you heard the shower start in the master bedroom, your heart freezes, he’s up and now you don’t know if you should tell him a quick bye or invite him to join you.

You go to the kitchen and gather your things as you mull over the ways of telling him pass through your mind. You press the dispense button on the filtered water maker waiting patiently as it takes a moment to fill all the way up to the 1 liter mark.

Austin’s voice startles you breaking the silence “Where are you going?” You look to the stairs surprised to see him shirtless wearing only low riding sweatpants his hair still slightly wet from the shower.

“Good morning Austin I thought I would go out to do yoga” your voice sounds so high and feeble when in your mind you meant to say it normally obviously his mood was affecting you.

“We have a gym” he motions his hand aiming in the direction. He continues down the stairs and begins staring at you intently, looking you over inspecting what you have on. “You’re wearing the white one?” He asks stepping in closely sliding his finger under the strap of your sports bra releasing it with a snap,you lightly wince “you know this one is my favorite” he confesses. You smile at him weakly.

“Who are you meeting” he asks starkly with an inquisitive look on his face, he crosses his arms tilting his head down to scan you for deception with both his eyebrows raised.

Your face instantly falls to shock, with his tone almost insinuating you’re not just going to work out.

“Austin I booked a class!” you rush to show him the screen on your phone.

“Cancel it” he says nonchalantly walking away to the espresso maker.

“Austin! “ you whine

He whips his head around stunned by your back talk “Is your yoga class more important or is what I want more important ?” He snaps

Your mouth drops It’s dawning on you he’s in a really bad mood you’ve never seen him in before. He’s down right cold and possessive it’s making your patience wear thin your skin is boiling as you finally speak up.

“I’ve been watching you mope around for days, you won’t let me go shopping you won’t let me drive to pick up groceries and now I can’t even work out?! What is it with you?” You drop your bag on the counter in a huff the contents clattering inside.

He just stares at you so many thoughts running through his head but he can’t form the words yet. He does know one thing, he looks at you his eyes softening begging to be seen but you turn your head away in anger “ Don’t be upset with me…I don’t want you to leave me please … I’m sorry…” his voice trails off he thinks he sounds so pathetic he wishes he could take it back.

“You don’t want me to leave you Austin? Where exactly am I going you won’t even let me leave the house! What are you talking about? Like breakup with you ? Why would you even say that?” you spew questions at him you are now very upset and confused.

He’s not talking anymore he rest back holding the countertop staring at the floor with a complex look on his face.

After a long moment of silence you grow impatient the clock ticking until your class starts. “ I’m going to my class” you pick up your bag but he’s quicker pulling it off your shoulder and back to the counter hooking your elbow before you can even storm off. “Austin!” you snap at him for holding you back. He puts his hands on your waist guiding you back “let’s just talk” he lets go of your waist and motions for you to calm down.

You cross your arms the look of impatience resonating through your entire body. He places his left hand on the counter and looks down to the floor he sighs pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand in stress.

“ …My entire world is crumbling, everything I built everything I stand for is falling apart right in front of my eyes.” He rubs his hand over his mouth and chin stressing more “This house my movies nothing is guaranteed I could lose it all at any second I could over extend myself I could go broke the next movie I make could be a flop do you understand?” his eyes piercing into yours now.

You put your head up a bit defiantly of course you understand but he’s so extreme “Your movies are great people will love them, the strike can’t last forever Austin and if you want we can get a smaller house I just want you to be comfortable, I know it’s stressful now I know it’s uncertain but I’m your partner l’ll support you no matter what, I’ll love you no matter what” you release your crossed arms to cup your hands on his face. You see a change in his eyes like you unlocked something in his mind that takes a weight off his shoulders.

He places his left hand on yours holding his face “I don’t want to lose you like this I feel like I'm constantly making mistakes and you’re just getting fed up...” he starts confessing.

You wait in silence as he processes his feelings

“I just feel like if we go out right now you’ll easily find another actor or businessman or musician who’s going to fall for you just as hard as I have and he’s going to offer you something I don’t have or something better and I can’t let that happen I need you, I need you here with me even now you just set so many of my fears at ease in one second I need that so much “

He gently breaks your hold on his face to grab your shoulders “Please just stay with me until I feel better and things will go back to normal I promise.” His eyes are staring intently into yours trying to convey hes being honest.

You mull over his words and come up with one response “ Austin do you know why I want to leave the house and work out?”

He scoffs “yea to go to that fancy celebrity yoga studio and ‘network’ with new people”

“No Austin I’m going because my body is so physically stressed from you right now I can’t even think straight. You don’t show me any affection, do you know how detrimental that is for me? I love your touch your kisses your laugh, I miss them so much... you’ve been distancing from me for days I’ve wanted you so many times and you won’t let me have you” you plead to him your eyes full of longing.

His eyes look shocked as he starts connecting the dots “I didn’t realize I……” he starts but you cut him short.

“Austin…every time I try you literally block me why would you do that? You’re on your phone or you’re too into your movie or you just fall asleep on me exhausted it’s always some little thing to ignore me”

“I would never ignore you” he responds resolute staring at you sternly.

“Show me … show me you want me” you cross your arms over your chest daring him (secretly wanting this all along and getting a rush seeing how he will make it up to you)

He approaches you slowly and gets down on his knees directly infront of you his arms falling at his sides his head bowed shocking you completely. You feel so bad he is resorting to such desperate measures you almost tell him to stand but it’s so hot your brain over rides that and you just go with it.

He places his hands at your hips and softly plants kisses across your thighs on your leggings gently reaching and cupping your ass in his hands. He trails his fingerstips up your waistline pulling your leggings lower from your hips down your legs until you step out of them one foot at a time.

Once you’re free he nuzzles his nose to your covered pussy and looks up at you just kissing your panties. You bring your hand up to cover your mouth silently enjoying this a little too much all your stress out the window getting exactly what you wanted from him all along and he’s the most submissive you’ve ever seen.

He stands up infront of you tugging the bottom of your sports top hinting that he wants it off. You lift your arms and he slides it up and off exposing your breasts. The house is so silent as you stand in front of each other.

“Austin if you don’t want to..” your voice trails off as he stares in your eyes while hooking his thumbs into your panties sliding them down he kneels and helps you step out of them. He stands up and holds your waist picking you up easily and placing you down on the kitchen counter. Your breath hitches in your throat your already getting so wet for him your body and mind in utter confusion of guilt vs pleasure.

He stands between your legs placing his left hand on your hip to steady you. He kisses onto your neck softly as he guides his hand down between your legs running his finger tips along your pussy. You toss your head back needing his touch so badly but your heart is feeling so guilty not even sure if he wants this.

“Austin” you say his name as he starts circling his middle finger on your wet entrance “Austin please” you grab onto his shoulder making him look at you and he stops.

Your panting he already turned you on so much you’re unsure what to say. He looks at your eyes then your lips then back to your eyes again not sure why you stopped him then it clicks “ I want this” he says locking eyes with you and plunging his finger deep inside you making you choke out a moan and involuntarily clench on him.

He slides his finger in and out of you curling it at the end touching the squishy spot inside that instantly calms you down and has you finally begin to start sweetly moaning for him the guilt lifting completely.

You rest back leaning on your arms for support your palms flat on the counter. He leans into you catching his mouth onto yours licking your tongues together. He pulls away and gently bites your lower lip before devouring your mouth again.

He continues his deep hunger filled kisses while gently fingering you he pulls one finger out and slides two back in slowly rocking your wet pussy on his hand. You break away from his kiss too aroused to concentrate. Your panting heavily and spreading your legs wider enjoying the feeling of what his deft fingers can do, coursing waves of pleasure through your entire body.

He softly smiles staring at you intently your eyes are closed tightly your brows knitted together your mouth open and panting your chest rising and falling you are so beautiful to him, so precious even, he wants to pleasure you so well that the thought of you leaving him never crosses your mind.

He pulls his fingers out completely wet with your slick and lightly brushes them up and down against your clit then your tight entrance alternating teasingly. You tremble slightly the urge to cum igniting in your core.

He holds your left thigh and kneels down from the countertop between your spread legs he latches his mouth on your clit sucking it while sliding his fingers back into you.

You arc your back and let out a high moan the dual sensations edging you perfectly close to having an orgasm. His tongue now lapping your clit as his fingers easily sliding in and out of you its so pornographic your at your breaking point. You peek down at him with his eyes closed hungrily enjoying your pussy licking your clit as his fingers wetly plunge in and out of you. You let out a cycle of moans that repeatedly increase until your body tenses and you orgasm squeezing his fingers inside of you as you cum.

He stands up and looks you in the eyes leaning in closer and pumping his fingers into you a few more times making you cry out as liquid releases from your core onto his fingers and pooling on the counter. He slowly pulls his wet fingers out of you and sucks them off savoring the taste.

You are slightly shaking in after shock. He stands and turns to the counter behind him, you see his stiff cock bound in his sweat pants and immediately arousal fills you again. He returns next to you holding a paper towel to the automatic sink , he wets it and wipes between your legs with one end and wipes the counter with the other discarding it in the hidden panel trash bin.

He grabs your waist and swiftly pulls you off the counter to stand flush against him his dick between your parted legs resting against your pussy. You’re staring into his eyes not saying anything afraid to break the bond of him connecting with you again.

Instead you rest your head against his chest and close your eyes inhaling his scent holding him tightly against his chiseled pecs. He wraps his strong arms around yours and gathers your pony tail in his hand behind you playfully pulling it down by the end making you look up at him.

“Is that all you wanted?” His voice full of lust now a smirk across his face.

“ I want more ” you confess releasing your hold around him lightly dragging your nails down his nipples making his cock twitch, you bite your lower lip looking innocently up and him.

His smile gets bigger “window or counter top” he asks. You peer over at the giant floor to ceiling panel window over looking the pool and garden “window” you say in a hushed tone.

He walks ahead of you taking you by the hand leading you until you get to the window then switches you around infront of him and presses your back against it placing his hands above you on the glass trapping you in with his body.

He reaches his right hand down and holds your jaw tilting your face up to kiss his lips.

He releases you and takes a few steps backing away admiring you with his hand on his chin. With the giant garden and pool behind your naked form you look like a painting, he captures the image in his mind. He motions with his finger signaling for you to turn around.

You comply and turn around pressing your chest to the glass the cold temperature making your nipples perk instantly. You place your hands up and on to the glass at the sides of your head. You peer over your shoulder and see him stepping out of his sweat pants kicking them to the side and grabbing ahold of his large erect cock stroking it while staring at you.

“Spread your legs for me” he asks and you take a step wider on each side your so exposed and so aroused waiting for him. He comes to stand behind you and wraps his right arm around your waist placing his left hand ontop of yours on the glass making you sigh into him your breath making fog on the glass as you close your eyes.

He takes his right hand down between your legs and holds your pussy. He leans his head onto yours “ you’re absolutely soaked” he whispers in your ear, you can hear the smile in his voice as he traces circles around your entrance with his fingers. “Austin please…” you beg him pressing your ass against his cock you hear him suck in a breath as he regains his thought.

“I wanted to take my time with because you *just* miss me *so* much” he says teasingly toying with you making fun of your argument.

You smile and turn the tables on his cockiness you flip around beneath him and lift your right leg hooking it around his waist pulling him to you, your pussy lips wet and slightly parted at this angle.

He Iunges forward immediately kissing you grabbing your hips lifting you slightly with your back pressed to the window and lowering you onto his cock. You both moan in unison. He’s on fire for you like this. He holds your right leg up for leverage and places his right hand on your waist slowly pulling you fully onto his cock. You both moan again as he fills you to capacity.

He smiles at you devilishly as he begins working his dick into you gauging how hard and fast he wants to take you in this position he opts for fast and close pulling your hip and leg onto him and thrusting up into you powerfully. You grab onto his neck holding fast for dear life as he thrusts you hard smacking into your pussy making it squeeze his cock repeatedly a blank expression on your face as you moan and suddenly orgasm for him. He bounces you off of each thrust satisfying your core completely making you rock back against him feeling so good from your high.

His abs are tightening his body tensing the position so good your slick cum now covering his length making everything wetter and tighter at the same time driving him over the edge he deeply moans holding you harder on his cock. “ oh fuck!” he yells out “I’m gonna“ he moans the last part busting his load inside you holding onto you pushing his hips forward draining his cum deeply inside of you with his final thrusts.

He rests back trying to catch his breath “That was …incredible” he says panting as his chest wildly expands with each inhale . His pupils are dancing as he looks at you. As you remove your leg from around his waist you quickly squeeze your knees together. “ Austin the cum!” you say a little panicked he always empties so much into you. He runs and grabs paper towels handing them to you and you place them between your thighs collecting it.

He takes the paper towels making them into a ball and goes to discard it in the trash bin then washes his hands. You stand straight and stretch your arms up feeling so much better. He comes over seeing his chance and rushes to tickle you “ Austin!” You yell out as you laugh “ how could you! “ you are twitching around as he continues his assault. He stops and grabs you in a bear hug. “Are you hungry?” He asks already knowing your answer “ I’m starving babe “ you admit

“Let’s cook breakfast together!” he says excitedly.

You both head to the kitchen he unhooks two chef aprons in the walk in pantry handing one to you. You smile watching him put his on. He ties it behind him at the waist showing his biceps and muscular shoulders he makes the apron look so tiny. He’s such a sexy chef.

“I’m thinking breakfast sandwich you toast and butter the English muffins with a slice of cheese I’ll do the eggs and bacon” he orders “right away chef” you say with a giggle he’s being so commanding in such an endearing way. You two work together finally plating the meal using each others finished items.

You keep your aprons on and head to the den facing the pool. You sit together on the plushy love seat your legs overlapping as you eat the sandwiches. You finish and put your hand out for Austin’s plate you take both to the kitchen. He leans his head back to watch you sway with only an apron on as you carry the dishes to the kitchen. He captures the image in his mind.

“Hey do you want to go for a walk on the trails?” You hear him say from the den “Really we haven’t done that in forever! Yea! “ you say excitedly rinsing and placing the dishes in the sink. You take off your apron hooking it back in the pantry. He returns to the kitchen and places his apron with yours. “Wear the white outfit” he says with a grin as he walks through the kitchen completely naked and heads upstairs to get ready. You grab your white out fit from the floor never making it to your work out but Austin was going outside and he was in such a happy mood and that made everything better. You follow him upstairs to get ready and go on a hike to start your day with him.

~*Fin*~

[uluvjay]

Exile-C. Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x ex girlfriend! Reader

I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending

Warnings?; angst, being forced into a secret relationship, self doubt, crying, club scene, i apologize for any errors i made!

Charles could feel his breath get stuck in his throat as his eyes caught sight of your flowing hair and glowing skin, your body hanging off of a tall and fit gentleman.

“Dude what-oh..” Pierre winced as his eyes found what his best friend was locked on.

“I-it’s been three months and she’s here with another guy, feels like it took her five minutes to forget me..forget about us.” He breathed.

“He’s probably just a rebound dude, plus things didn’t really end that well for you two…” pierre trailed as he placed a hand on his friends shoulder and directed him away from you.

Charles shook his head with a scoff at the thought of the night you ended things with him, you had never shown signs of being unhappy or wanting to leave which is why the boy was more than confused when he returned from a phone call with his team to find you crying and packing your bags.

You never returned any of his calls or texts eventually blocking him on all forms of communication and telling your friends to do the same, even Kika.

Speaking of the girl he watched as she made her way back from the bathroom, slipping her small frame under Pierre’s arm; distracting him enough for Charles to make a break in your direction.

His eyes followed your body in that little black dress you wore as you walked to the bar and he wasted no time following and sliding into the spot right next to you.

You could feel him before he even spoke, the richness of his cologne filling your senses while his strong arm brushed against yours.

Your heart picked up at his presence, jumping like it was trying to get to him but your brain was screaming at you to turn around and walk out of that club.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He spoke first, his voice was soft but you could hear the sarcasm dripping in it.

“It’s a popular club and Monaco’s a small place.” You shrugged, cursing internally at the way your voice came out shaky.

“Who’s your boy toy?” He scoffed turning to catch a look at the guy again.

“None of your business.”

You finally looked at him this time, your eyes locking with his deep ones. Your stomach dropped as you thought back to the last time you looked into them, right before you shut the front door of his apartment and never looked back.

“He’s probably just using you, you know that right?” He laughed.

“And so what if he is? I’m not your problem anymore Charles, I can do whatever and whoever I want.” You spat before turning on your heals and heading straight for the back exit of the club.

However you weren’t fast enough to shake him as you heard his heavy footsteps close behind you and the second you made it outside a hand clasped around your wrist, pulling you back into his hard chest.

“You were never a problem, the only problem was you walking out on me and never giving me an explanation.” He spat, eyes burning into yours.

Charles jumped at the laugh that escaped from your throat, confusion clouding his face as the genuine sounds filled the quiet air.

“What are you laughing for? This isn’t funny Y/n.”

“You really think I just left? You’re more clueless than I thought.” You scoffed, pulling your wrist from his hold as you took a few steps back.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He questioned even more confused than before.

“You didn’t see all the signs I was trying to give? How I tried showing you again and again I was unhappy being your little secret? How sick I was of your team constantly referring to me as your problem?.” You scoffed.

“What signs Y/n!? You never said anything and news flash I’m not a mind reader.” He scoffed.

“I tried Charles! I tried so many fucking times and you always brushed me away. So I thought that if I would begin to distance myself or turn down dates and movie nights you would notice how I was feeling and ask me about it, but you never did.” You sobbed this time remembering how shitty you felt those days, how you would fight to get out of bed and put a smile on for him and your friends.

“I never knew you were that miserable Y/n, you should have forced me to sit down and listen to you. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way because I did and still do love you, so much.” He tried as he reached out for you.

You pushed his hands away as you stepped back doing your best to put more distance between you two.

“Of course you didn’t.” You scoffed as you wiped away some of your tears.

Strings tugged at Charles heart at the sight of the tears spilling down your face, wanting nothing more than to reach out and wipe them but he knew he couldn’t.

He thought back on your words and it clicked for him this time, he finally realized your tired and small efforts towards the end, how you would spend most of your days locked away unless someone really needed you, and he felt like a piece of shit for never noticing.

“I really am sorry Y/n, I wish I could’ve seen the signs, I shouldn’t have kept you a secret like they told me to because you deserved much better then that, I should have been telling everyone how much of a magnificent woman you are not hiding you.” He breathed.

“I’m glad you’ve realized that char but it’s too late now.” You smiled pitifully.

“No Y/n please let me make this right, let me show the world how amazing of a woman you are, let me cherish you and treat you right this time. Please.” He begged.

“I’m sorry Charles but I’ve seen this film before and I really, really didn’t like the ending.” You cried, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek softly before placing a small kiss to the skin.

“Goodbye Charles.” You breathed.

“See you later Amore.” He spoke lowly.

You smiled at his attempt to hang on and not fully let go but it was time for you to, you needed to grow and become a better you and Charles was no longer apart of that journey.

You gave his pretty eyes one more look before stepping back and hurrying down the alley behind the club.

Charles watch as your frame got smaller and smaller, standing in the same spot even after he watched you enter the cab and look back at him one more time.

And in that moment he realized you could still be his, all he had to do was read the signs.

-

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: im using one of my fav writing tropes for this chapter, so it’s gonna be a bit longer Lmaoo. the usual, not proofread so excuse grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, Miguel might be ooc.

(Y/N)- Your name, (f/c)- favorite color.

drinking/ alcohol use, mentions of sex/sexual topics (no smut, but light NSFW)

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5: Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

—

“You suck ass at beer pong Miguel.”

“And you suck ass.” Miguel said back to Peter with a smirk, taking a sip of his Modelo.

He sighed before tossing another white ping pong ball into the direction of a group of red solo cups, once again missing, the ball bouncing off the rim of a cup and landing on the floor instead. “Pinche- that’s it, I’m done. I’m not getting alcohol poisoning tonight.” Miguel grumbled before walking away from the table, despite Peter’s protests, and into the crowd of sweaty and drunk college students. It’s currently Saturday night and Miguel was at some random party on frat row, he couldn’t remember which frat it was. It didn’t really matter for him though, since he was on the hockey team and the captain of said team, he didn’t have to worry about getting in. Miguel was in a pretty good mood despite not having talked to you since the incident in front of the arena two weeks ago, it’s hard not to be in a good mood when they had absolutely crushed last night’s game, having won 5 to 3.

He walked without any real destination, taking another sip of his bottle, finishing it off before setting the now empty bottle onto of a random coffee table, he wasn’t drunk drunk, but his feet were stumbling a bit as he attempted to walk in a straight line. He had found himself in a random bathroom, deciding why not “reveal” himself while he was there, after handling his business, he re-zipped his jeans and fastened his belt buckle. In his drunken state, Miguel didn’t even realize he had forgotten to lock the door to the bathroom, it wasn’t until he was in the middle of washing his hands did he noticed, because he heard the noise of the doorknob turning and the door opening.

“I’ll be just a minute Kate!-“

“Someone’s in here-“

Miguel’s words took longer to process due to the tequila in your system, so your hand had already closed and locked the bathroom door and you were in the middle of turning your body to walk further into the bathroom, your body only finally stopping when you were now face to face with Miguel. Both of you falling into a silence as you stared at each other, neither one daring to move, it felt like you were almost frozen in time for hours, when, in reality it’s only been about 10 seconds. After a few seconds you blinked out of your trance like state, Miguel clearing his throat as you rub the back of your neck.

“Sorr-“ You both started at the same time again, before stopping and attempting to apologize again, only to speak at the same time once more, causing you to began to laugh at the situation. Your head tilting back, a hand going up to your chest, Miguel thought you looked like an Angel while laughing, also let out a small chuckle, but his was more awkward, suddenly aware of the fact that last time he saw you was not a good experience. Or, rather *any* of you encounters with Miguel weren’t a good experience.

“Sorry. I guess I forgot to lock the door.” Miguel says with a small (albeit embarrassed) smile, as he moves to turn the water off and dry his hands of a small dark blue hand towel that was hanging next to the sink. You quickly bring your hand up and dismiss his apology with a wave.

“No-no it’s okay! It’s not a big deal.” You tried to assure him, a small chuckle leaving your lips, Miguel couldn’t tell if the slight blush on your face was from the alcohol you’ve been downing or from the situation. “ Did you need me to leave or…” your question trailed off.

Miguel caught your drift and quickly shook his head. “No, no I was just about done, I’ll let you… erm… yeah.” He finished with a small chuckle, feeling more relaxed seeing a way out of this somewhat awkward encounter, he mumbled a small “excuse me.” As he goes to walk past you and towards the door, you had to turn to your side so you and him could switch positions, and his hand went to lightly grab your hip in an attempt to keep him or you from falling as he squeezes past you. The sudden touch caught you off guard slightly, but you didn’t say anything about it. Not thinking much of it or the way your heart skipped a beat during it. Once he passed you, and begrudgingly let go of your hip, he goes to unlock the door and turn the bathroom doorknob, but when he went to pull the door, it wouldn’t budge. So he tried again, harder this time. Then again… and still nothing. You just watched with a confused expression, your head tilting to the side as you fiddled with the hem of your (f/c) dress. You began to shift your weight back and forth on your feet as you felt your discomfort grow from all the alcohol you drank tonight that you needed to release, your heels making a little clink with each step.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after his 3rd attempt to open the door, Miguel finally dropped his hands with a heavy sigh, turning to face you, his hand coming up to his chin before he finally replies.

“We’re stuck.”

“What?”

“The lock jammed.” He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand.

“You’re kidding…” you groaned as you moved pass him again and wiggled the door in an attempt to get it to open, but you quickly realized it was, in fact, jammed. “Ugh, fuck. Kate has my phone…” you whined as you turned your back and leaned against the door, as you look up at Miguel.

He lets out a sigh, and dropped his hands down to his jean pockets, “it’s alright, I’ll call Peter.” He said before finding which pocket his phone in, going to turn it on, only to realize it was dead, “or not…” he grumbled as he drops his hand with his phone back to his side, while the free one runs through his slicked back hair, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“So we’re stuck in here?” You asked in disbelief, but before he could answer you had turn back to face the door and begain to bang on the door in hopes that someone will hear you. “HELLO?! IS SOMEONE THERE!? WERE STUCK IN HERE!!” Miguel quickly pulled you away from the door.

“Woah, woah Princesa, you’re gonna break down the door, calm down, I’m sure someone will notice we’re gone, or someone will try and come use the bathroom and will get help.” Miguel said in a calm manner as he tried to calm you down, you just took a deep breath and nodded your head. Moving past him so he was closer to the door again.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke once more. “Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favor…”

“Sure ice princess.”

“Can you… turn around and cover your ears?”

He gave you a puzzled look, “…why?”

“…erm… I have to pee still…”

—

At first, you two sat in awkward silence, you sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, while Miguel sits on the edge of the bathtub across from you, avoiding eye contact, and the silent only being broken from the occasional clearing of the throat or the shuffling of clothes as one of you two would shift your sitting positions, until you suddenly spoke up, your eyes lighting up slightly. “Hey Miguel,” you say with a smile, before digging your hand in between your cleavage of your dress, Miguel looked away to hid his light blush that was beginning to spread on his cheeks. “want a shot?” You asked with a smirk, before pulling out two small mini bottles of Patron silver that you had hiding in your dress, putting your hand out offering him one.

Miguel just looked at you with a raised brow for a second, before shrugging his shoulder, “fuck it… why not.” He mirrored your smirk as he takes one of the bottles from your hand. Once he grabs it, you pull your hand back, both of you opening the mini bottles, giving each other a “salute” as you both tap the bottles together before downing the shots. Your face cringes slightly as the burning sensation goes down your throat, wishing you had a lime to help.

—

“Okay..okay…” you say after getting your self to stop giggling, “would you rather… erm… oh! I know! Would you rather have to only play hockey in your Pjs for the rest of the season, or walk in on Peter and MJ making out?” You asked with a smile as you rest your elbows on your knees, and your chin in the palm of you hands.

“Well… considering I only sleep in my briefs, and I’ve already walked in on them making out, I guess I would be okay having to do it again.” Miguel replied with a chuckle as he looks up at you from your place on the sink. This was the most you two have gotten along without bickering, and it was odd but also… nice?

“Okay your turn.” You say to him, as your swung your feet a bit, your heels lightly hitting the cabinet underneath the sink.

“Okay, um… would you rather, get back with your ex, or tell the last person you’ve had a sexual dream about, that you had a wet dream about them?” He asked with a small smirk, and the question made you freeze up a bit. Why? Well… because unfortunately, that person was the one that was 5 feet away from you, that same person who you were locked in a bathroom with, that person… was Miguel O’Hara. It’s not like you had that dream on purpose, and it’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, but you wouldn’t admit it, it was simply a dream, it had no meaning behind it. It wasn’t like you actually wanted to know what it would be like to be underneath the hockey player, it wasn’t like you actually wanted to see how quickly he could break and tear you down to nothing but a shaking sobbing mess. Nothing but incoherent babbles and whines leaving your mouth, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as you begged for more, begged for more of him, “more Miguel! Ple-please… I-I need you so bad- I need your-“

“(Y/N)?” Miguel’s voice quickly snapped you back into reality, giving you a questionable look, you quickly clear your throat, ignoring the heat rising to your face and the slight ache that forms between your thighs, before speaking.

“Erm… can’t I say neither ?” You asked, your shoulders going up in a slight shrug. Miguel quickly shook his head and stood up, taking a small step towards you.

“Nope, you gotta pick one.” He said with a sly smirk, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

You let out a sigh, you really, really hated your ex, so you answered with a heavy sigh, “… the second one…” you mumbled as you looked away to avoid eye contact. The sudden shift of your behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel, he takes another step towards you, now just a few inches right infront of you, if he takes just one more step, you would have to separate your legs to make room for him.

“What’s wrong ice princess?” He asked in a low, almost teasing tone, as he brings his hand up to gently cup your cheek, before moving your face back to look at him, your face began to feel fleshed from the sudden intimate move. Your eyes widened slightly as you look up at Miguel, his eyes were half-lidded, and they’re was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite make out. “Got something you needa get off your chest…” he mumbled in the same low tone as he leans in a bit, your breath hitches and your heart rate increases as you were now nose to nose.

“Miguel…” you said bearly above a whisper, you weren’t sure what you were even going to say.

“Yes?”

“What…” you trailed off again when you start to feel his hot breath began to fan your lips, if he just moved a little bit closer-

“Miguel! (Y/N!)” Peter’s shouts through the door quickly make Miguel pull away from you, pulling away just in time before the bathroom door opens, being faced with Peter and your dorm mate Kate. Luckily, Miguel took enough steps back so you two weren’t in a suspicious position.

“Jesus. Finally.” You mumbled before hopping off the counter, pushing past Peter and grabbing Kate’s hand, dragging her out of the frat house, back to your dorm and far away from Miguel.

—

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