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fantasticbean · 2 days ago

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The Nymph and the Sea I

Authors note: Okay so… this is my first fanfic for reals reals. Nothing in here is historically accurate, it is just based in greek mythology for funsies and Roman clearly gives off vibes of a powerful entity, so with that said don’t take any of this plot as genuine facts. I enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it :) ALSO there will be smut but for now I’m just trying to develop the characters and the plot SO BEAR WITH ME.

Warnings: Minor Character death, animal death, blood, emotional abuse, toxic “mother” and daughter relationships. It is Ancient Greece people, there will be weird things going on. If I missed something let me know :p

Word count: 4,508 (got a little carried away hehe)

Pairing: Roman Reigns as Poseidon x Maleina (OC) Love Nymph

Chapter I. The Creation

Maleina, the tender-eyed nymph with the glowing purple gaze, was no ordinary creation. Crafted by the divine hands of Aphrodite, she was destined to carry the power of love, a living embodiment of the arrows shot by what mortals called Cupid. Her origins were as divine as her purpose, woven together one fateful night beneath the moonlit sky over Corinth. Aphrodite had long shared a passionate bond with Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry, and that evening, their union became the subject of much divine entertainment. The gods of Olympus, known for their indulgent voyeurism, watched eagerly as the pair gave themselves over to love and lust in a display that was meant to captivate them all.

Aphrodite, ever the showwoman, was determined to leave an indelible impression, to give her audience something worthy of their gaze. As she and Dionysus reveled in their moment, a new creation was born—a nymph whose beauty and power would echo through the heavens. The gods, enthralled by the spectacle, knew that Maleina would be no ordinary being.

Her form was an exquisite masterpiece. Apollo, the god of the sun and arts, nearly fell to his knees at the sight of her—so breathtaking was her beauty that he had a statue crafted in her likeness, one so flawless it would become the pinnacle of artistic reverence. Her hair, dark as the midnight sky, cascaded in soft waves, and her lips, full and beguiling, resembled the finest of Dionysus’s wine—sweet, intoxicating, and irresistible. Her skin shone with the glow of the full moon, luminous and ethereal, and her smile revealed teeth so perfect they could only have been sculpted by Poseidon himself, the god of the seas, whose skill in crafting beauty was unmatched. Even Hades, the god of the underworld, known for his usually impassive demeanor, sighed dreamily as she stepped into the room. Maleina’s presence was magnetic, her beauty transcendent, and the gods, one by one, acknowledged her as Aphrodite’s greatest creation.

And as if to crown her perfection, Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and protector of women, bestowed upon Maleina a final, unforgettable gift: a pair of violet eyes—eyes that held the power to awaken deep love and desire in those who gazed into them. The gods, from Zeus to Hecate, each saw something unique in her, something they had never witnessed before. Her eyes were not merely beautiful; they were a force of nature, a weapon of love itself.

It was the gods’ unanimous decision that Maleina would serve her creator’s will, tasked with wielding the power of Aphrodite’s arrows, binding mortals to the whims of love. But more than that, she would stand apart from the other nymphs, her allure unmatched, her powers unparalleled. Maleina was not just a messenger of love—she was its embodiment, the embodiment of divine passion and desire.

“You’re the embodiment of love and desire Dear,” Aphrodite said once Maleina was wrapped in soft silk gowns “With your gift you’ll grant us a future of many mortals to come and populate this earth but you should not indulge yourself with them.”

Those were the first words Maleina had ever heard: Bring love to others, but never to yourself. As the years passed, the weight of that command grew heavier. Maleina carried her quiver of arrows with grace, yet the burden they represented was one she felt deeply. Her existence was defined by bringing love and desire into the lives of mortals while denying herself the same. She could witness love in its purest, most fervent forms, but she was forbidden to partake, her duty bordering on punishment.

Maleina’s first encounter with love—true, unbidden love—was one she would never forget. It happened when she was tasked with a simple mission: to strike a mortal boy with her arrow, binding him to his childhood friend. She had seen him by the riverbank, his brown hair catching the golden light, his pearly blue eyes reflecting the water’s shimmer. He was a warrior, strong and proud, and wholly forbidden.

Curiosity rooted her in place as she watched him strip off his tunic, revealing a sun-kissed body carved by years of labor and training. Though she was a nymph, created from divine hands, she was still a creature of flesh and emotion. A warmth stirred deep within her, a sensation foreign and consuming. Her heart quickened, her body heated as if Hephaestus himself had stoked a flame within her very being.

Maleina hesitated. Her task was clear, her creator’s command absolute: bind him to another, and leave. But her hand faltered, the arrow never released. She fled, overwhelmed and terrified—not just by her feelings but by what Aphrodite’s wrath might bring. Love and chaos were two sides of her maker’s coin, and Maleina dared not challenge her. The consequences for disobedience were severe, and the goddess’s fury was a force even the gods themselves feared.

That night, Maleina returned to the temple in disarray. The image of the warrior haunted her thoughts, his laughter and form etched into her memory. She sat by the fountain, her feet submerged in the cool water, seeking solace in its stillness. Her sister Liv approached, her rosy cheeks tinged with cold and mischief.

“What’s spinning in that pretty head of yours?” Liv teased, her tone playful as always. Liv was unlike Maleina in every way—a vibrant soul full of theatrics and charm, the life of every gathering. She was a favorite at Apollo’s feasts and often found herself entwined in the schemes of Hermes’s sons. Yet, her teasing was tempered by an innate loyalty to her sister.

Maleina hesitated but finally spoke, her voice soft and uncertain. “Something… strange happened to me.” She leaned her head to the side, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. “I think I got too confident in my abilities.”

Liv raised a brow, her grin mischievous. “You mean you fucked someone?”

“No, you moron!” Maleina hissed, kicking water at her sister, her face flushing with embarrassment. “But it crossed my mind.”

Liv laughed, throwing her head back before leaning closer, her expression both amused and serious. “Well, I’ll be damned. The one who can’t fall in love… fell in love.”

Maleina shot her a sharp glare, placing a finger to her lips. “Liv! Someone might hear you.”

“Fine,” Liv said, lowering her voice but frowning deeply. “But did you…?” she asked again, her meaning clear, sex.

Maleina shook her head. The feeling had consumed her, burned through her in a way she had never experienced. And yet, she had resisted. It felt unfair—no, cruel—to be made a vessel of love and desire yet denied the ability to feel it freely.

Liv’s smile faltered as she studied her sister’s conflicted face. Maleina’s thoughts were a storm of lust, shame, and longing, a war between duty and the desires she had been forbidden to explore.

How unfair, she thought bitterly, to give love to others and never receive it for herself.

“I’ll be fine,” Maleina convinced herself “It won’t happen again. First thing tomorrow I will be done with it.”

“You know,” Liv said with a mischievous smirk, her tone dripping with devilish charm, “the instructions are to never fall in love. It doesn’t say entanglement is prohibited.”

Maleina rolled her eyes, the burden of her overthinking clashing with Liv’s careless temptations. “That’s not how it works, Liv,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction. Her sister’s words lingered in her mind longer than she’d care to admit.

The next morning, Maleina found herself once again at the riverbank, her target in sight. The warrior stood near the water’s edge, cleaning his sword with quiet precision. His soaked tunic clung to his body, every muscle defined by the morning light. Maleina’s fingers tightened on the golden string of her bow, ready to complete her task.

But then, the rustling of leaves drew her attention. Her sharp eyes caught the movement first—a lion, stalking through the brush, its hungry gaze fixed on the man. The predator crept closer, its intent clear. Maleina’s breath hitched. She saw the warrior turn, his body shifting into a defensive stance. He was prepared, but what could a mortal do against an apex predator in its domain? It wasn’t a fair fight.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. The arrow meant for the man flew through the air, striking the lion directly in the eye. The beast roared in pain and collapsed, its death immediate.

The warrior stood frozen, his sword lowered as he stared at the lifeless lion. Confusion clouded his features, and his sharp blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice steady but wary. “Show yourself.”

Maleina’s heart raced. She hadn’t planned for this. She could have vanished, dissolved back into the safety of the trees, but something held her there. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped out of the shadows.

Her silk gown shimmered as if woven from moonlight, its deep purple hue mirroring the color of her eyes. Golden cuffs adorned her wrists, catching the sunlight, and her presence radiated an ethereal glow. The warrior’s jaw dropped as he took her in.

Surely, he thought, she was no mere woman. The way her beauty defied mortal comprehension, the way her very being seemed to command the air around her—he was convinced he stood before the goddess of beauty herself.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his voice soft, reverent, as if afraid to shatter the illusion.

Maleina’s lips parted, but she hesitated. Her mind raced with excuses, with answers, but none seemed to suffice. Instead, she simply stood there, her amethyst gaze meeting his.

“My name’s Maleina,” she said, her voice soft and low, like the whisper of a breeze through the trees. The sound ignited a flicker of something unnameable in Marcus’s chest, a heat that spread like wildfire.

“Marcus,” he replied, still unable to tear his gaze from her. It was as if his very soul feared she might vanish if he blinked. “Thank you, for, you know…” He motioned awkwardly toward the lifeless lion, the predator that had moments ago been his death sentence.

“You’re welcome,” Maleina replied, her tone measured and distant, uncertain of what else to say. Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary before she turned, her movements graceful yet hurried. “Well, see you around,” she added, her words rushed as though she needed to escape.

“Hey! Wait!” Marcus’s voice rang out, desperation thick in his tone. He couldn’t let her leave—not yet, not so soon. His feet carried him forward instinctively, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to hold on to the moment.

Maleina stopped but didn’t turn immediately. Her shoulders stiffened as the weight of her actions replayed in her mind. She had already gone too far, broken unspoken rules she had followed since her creation. This was bad, worse than she’d anticipated. She needed to leave and never look back.

Still, she turned, her face unreadable, though her violet eyes betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within.

“A-Are you from around here?” Marcus asked, his voice unsteady yet earnest. For the first time in his life, he felt like a boy again—nervous, uncertain, with his heart thundering in his chest.

Maleina hesitated. She could feel the pull, the dangerous thread tying her to this moment. “No,” she finally said, the word clipped but soft. Her mind screamed at her to disappear, to let the forest swallow her whole before things spiraled further out of control.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let herself linger just a moment longer, watching Marcus as he stood there, looking at her as if she were the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen. And perhaps, in that fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel extraordinary, too.

And so, the man Maleina once observed from behind the trees became her secret companion—a bond forged in stolen moments and hidden from the eyes of gods and mortals alike. Marcus, the warrior with a chiseled body and a heart softer than he’d admit, became her solace. He was a man of gentle humor and fierce loyalty, his strength honed not for glory but for survival. Every coin he earned went to care for his mother and younger sister, who lived by the coast of Argos.

Through him, Maleina came to know pieces of his world. She learned of Aria, the woman who had once been his promised wife, whose destiny Maleina had quietly shifted with her bow. Instead of binding Marcus and Aria together, the nymph had paired her with an older artisan from the village, a match that had blossomed into a quiet, happy life. Yet, the knowledge weighed heavy on Maleina’s shoulders. She had altered Marcus’s path, stolen his future in the name of her own selfish desires.

Still, guilt melted away each time they met by the small temple near the riverbank—their hidden haven. It was a place untouched by time, where the only witnesses to their stolen moments were the whispering trees and the murmuring water.

Marcus never questioned her origins. He didn’t need to. To him, she was Maleina, the mysterious daughter of a wealthy merchant, a woman of ethereal beauty and elusive grace who allowed him to share her time. She never corrected his assumptions. It was safer that way—for both of them.

But as the months passed, and their connection deepened, Maleina found herself tethered to him in a way that frightened her. Each smile, each lingering touch, each stolen glance was a defiance of her purpose, a rebellion against the rules set by her maker. She knew Aphrodite’s wrath was as swift as it was merciless.

Yet, she couldn’t stop.

In Marcus’s company, Maleina felt something she had never known—a sense of belonging, a warmth that seeped into her very being. He looked at her not as a creation of divine perfection, but as a woman. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe she was one.

Everything crumbled like a fragile sandcastle swept by a tidal wave. Nia, daughter of Thalassa and one of Poseidon’s loyal creations, had stumbled upon a tragedy at sea—a sight so harrowing it sent ripples of fury through the realms. Aria, a devoted wife and mother, lay lifeless along with her children, their bodies adrift on the salt-laden waves. The crime was heinous, committed by none other than Aria’s husband, whose heart Maleina’s arrow had forcefully turned. A bond meant to bloom with love had ended in bloodshed, a perversion of destiny itself.

This unnatural tragedy ignited chaos in the underworld, shaking its dark foundations and compelling Hades himself to rise from his shadowed throne. His demands for answers echoed through Olympus until they reached Poseidon’s halls. The Sea God, his rage like a brewing storm, dispatched Nia to uncover the source of this upheaval. Her investigation led her to a secluded riverbank where she found the culprit: Maleina, cradled in the arms of Marcus, her forbidden mortal lover.

It was in that moment that the truth struck Maleina with unbearable clarity. This tragedy was her doing, her defiance of her sacred duty unraveling the delicate threads of fate. The illusion she had so recklessly spun was now collapsing around her, its remnants sharp enough to wound not just her heart, but the very order of the divine.

The wrath of Aphrodite was swift and merciless. Her arrival was a storm of beauty and fury, her golden form shimmering with a light so intense it demanded reverence and fear. Her voice, a venomous blend of rage and disappointment, cut through Maleina’s trembling defenses.

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” Aphrodite’s words dripped with accusation, her gaze like a dagger aimed at the nymph’s soul. “You’ve disrupted nature’s sacred order. And in Poseidon’s domain, of all places.”

Maleina stood frozen, the weight of her actions crushing her spirit. Her voice, when it came, was small and broken. “I just wanted to know what it feels like…”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, her divine temper teetering on the edge of a violent eruption. She stepped closer, her presence a suffocating reminder of Maleina’s failure. “To feel what, Maleina?”

The nymph’s violet eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her answer was a whisper, fragile yet heavy with the longing that had driven her to defy the gods. “Love.”

The single word hung in the air, a confession that burned through the tension like a stray ember on dry parchment. Maleina’s heart shattered further as she realized that, in her quest to feel love, she had sown only destruction. The silence that followed was unbearable, filled with the unspoken weight of her punishment yet to come.

Aphrodite turned her back on Maleina, her movements elegant yet unnervingly cold as she walked to her gilded throne. The air in the chamber shifted, heavy and foreboding, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. With a simple snap of her fingers, two guards entered the room, dragging a limp and bloodied figure between them.

Maleina's heart dropped, her knees buckling as she recognized him.

"Marcus!" she cried, rushing forward, only to be stopped mid-step by an invisible force. Aphrodite's power pinned her in place, her outstretched hands trembling as she watched the guards drop Marcus to the floor. His body crumpled, legs dragging uselessly, his face battered and bruised beyond recognition. Blood trailed from his lips, his once-bright blue eyes barely open.

"No, no, no, please!" Maleina begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't hurt him! This isn't his fault!"

Aphrodite turned slowly, her expression devoid of sympathy. "Do you think the gods care about fault, child?" Her voice was sharp, laced with venom. "This was not my choice, but the balance must be restored. I follow orders as you should have."

Maleina fought against the unseen force, desperate to reach Marcus. "I'll fix it! I'll do anything! Please, just let him go!"

Aphrodite's gaze hardened. "You already had your chance. You chose defiance, and now you will learn the cost of disobedience."

At her signal, the guard nearest to Marcus unsheathed a blade, its edge glinting cruelly in the dim light. Maleina's screams pierced the chamber as she fought with every ounce of her strength, but she couldn't move.

"No! Stop!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, I love him!"

The words hung in the air like a fragile confession, but they did nothing to soften the goddess's resolve. The blade descended, sinking into Marcus's chest with brutal finality.

The sound of steel meeting flesh seemed to echo endlessly. Maleina's body froze, her mind unable to comprehend the sight of Marcus's blood spilling onto the floor, pooling beneath him. Time slowed as the guard stepped back, leaving the mortal slumped over, his life draining away.

With a snap, Aphrodite released her hold, and Maleina collapsed to the floor beside Marcus. She gathered his broken body in her arms, cradling him as though her touch could keep him tethered to the world.

"Marcus," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Stay with me, please. Don't leave me."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, the light in them dim but still holding her gaze.

"Maleina..." he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I would... do it all again... for you."

Her tears fell freely, mixing with the blood staining his chest. "I'm sorry," she choked out, pressing her forehead to his. "I'm so sorry."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and then he was gone. His body stilled, the warmth fading from his skin. Maleina clung to him, her sobs racking her body as her world shattered around her.

Aphrodite watched in silence, her expression as cold and unyielding as marble.

When she spoke, her words cut like a blade. "This is the price of your selfishness. Love is not yours to claim, Maleina. It is yours to give, nothing more."

Maleina's grip on Marcus's lifeless form tightened as Aphrodite motioned for the guards. They seized the nymph, pulling her away despite her cries and thrashing.

Her lover's blood stained her hands and gown, a haunting reminder of what she had lost.

The once vibrant and flourishing world of Corinth slowly decayed, the land withered beneath the weight of Maleina’s sorrow. The nymph, the embodiment of love, now imprisoned in her temple by Aphrodite, could no longer summon the power that once made hearts dance with desire. Her soul mourned the loss of Marcus, the mortal whose love she had so fiercely longed to taste, but now, that love was nothing but ashes in the wind.

Years passed in her isolation, a never-ending cycle of grief and longing. The temple walls, once radiant with the energy of her presence, now stood dark and cold, mirroring the void inside her heart. The nymph could no longer perform the duties she was created for, her once-bright purple eyes dull with the weight of despair. Aphrodite, though unforgiving, had left her with one instruction: to heal.

But how could a nymph of love heal when love had been taken from her so cruelly?

Meanwhile, on the shores of Corinth, the consequences of her actions were felt by mortals and gods alike. Without Maleina’s arrows to ignite the fires of passion, the world fell into chaos. Wars erupted over power, hearts grew cold, and the once harmonious relationships between gods and mortals began to fray. Even Poseidon, ruler of the seas, felt the shift—a disturbance in the natural order of things. His domain, once teeming with life and love, now felt eerily empty.

The land that once thrived on the affection and desires of its people now stood as a barren wasteland, much like Maleina’s heart—silent, aching, and devoid of the very essence that kept it alive.

Aphrodite watched from her celestial throne, a quiet anger brewing within her. She had created Maleina to be the ultimate agent of love, but the nymph had betrayed that creation by indulging in emotions she was not meant to experience. Yet, the goddess of love knew that even the gods were not immune to the consequences of love—destruction and creation alike.

The goddess of love and war leaned back in her golden throne, her expression unreadable, as the towering figure of Poseidon entered the temple. His presence was commanding, the air thickening around him as though the very sea followed in his wake. His long, dark hair cascaded like a storm, and his eyes—deep, cold, and endless as the ocean—locked onto hers without hesitation.

The goddess of love had never been one to be shaken, yet she could feel the weight of his arrival, the immense power he exuded.

“Roman,” she said, her voice cool, though the surprise in it was undeniable. “What brings you here?”

Poseidon’s gaze remained impassive, his tone as harsh as a crashing wave. “A proposition,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Aphrodite’s brow arched. “A proposition?” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Poseidon was a god of the sea, not one to venture far from his domain, and certainly not to the temple of love. His motives were always shrouded in mystery. But today, there was no mirth or intrigue in his eyes, only cold purpose.

He took a single step forward, his tall, broad form filling the space. “The world is drowning in chaos, Aphrodite. The mortal realm is devoid of balance. And your precious creation—Maleina—has strayed too far. Her weakness has infected the world.”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, though she kept her composure. “You speak as if you know what love is. What do you understand of it, Poseidon?”

Poseidon’s eyes flickered with a glint of something fierce—something dangerous, like the deep sea itself. “Love is a force of nature, like the tides. It cannot be controlled, only guided. You have let it run wild, and now the storm you’ve created threatens everything.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a thin smile, though there was no amusement in it. “So you’ve come to fix it? Do you think you can restore what I have built?” Her gaze flickered to Maleina’s shadowed figure in the distance, a silent reminder of the chaos that had ensued.

Poseidon’s voice grew colder, his eyes unwavering. “I don’t intend to restore what you’ve built. I intend to erase it. Maleina must return to her original purpose—no more distractions, no more false desires. She will remember who she is. Her love must not be wasted.”

Aphrodite’s breath caught, but she did not flinch. “And what makes you think you can accomplish this?”

“I will take her to my domain,” Poseidon said, his voice devoid of warmth. “I will cleanse her of your influence, restore balance, and let the tides of love once again flood the world. In return, I ask for one thing: permission to wield your power where it has been lost, to guide the broken hearts of mortals back to their true course.”

Aphrodite considered his words, her heart betraying her only for a moment. Poseidon was not here for power or gain; he was here to set things right, in his own ruthless way. He was a god of the sea, and he understood the balance of nature as no one else could.

“Very well,” she said, her voice as cold as the marble beneath her. “But know this, Poseidon: Maleina is no ordinary nymph. She was made for love, but love can break as easily as it can heal. You may find her more dangerous than you realize.”

Poseidon did not flinch. “I am not afraid of what I must do,” he said, his voice firm, unwavering. “You created her to guide love, Aphrodite. I will make her remember her true purpose, even if it means destroying the illusions she clings to.”

Aphrodite’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling. She had never seen Poseidon so determined, so utterly cold in his conviction. But in that moment, she realized that he was the only one who could undo the mess she had created.

“Go then,” Aphrodite said, her tone final. “But if you fail, it will be on your head.”

Poseidon’s lips barely twitched in acknowledgment, “I do not fail,” he said, turning away from her, his form already shifting toward the exit.

“Prepare yourself, Aphrodite. The tides are changing.”

And with that, the god of the sea left the temple, his presence like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon. Poseidon was not a god who dealt in mercy or second chances, but perhaps, just perhaps, he was the only one who could right the wrongs of the love she had forged.

As the doors closed behind him, Aphrodite’s gaze turned to where Maleina's last moments were—still broken, still lost in the chaos she had created—and she wondered what would become of the nymph now that Poseidon had entered the picture.

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #wwe #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x oc #roman reigs fanfic #the bloodline #roman reigns x y/n #wwe fanfiction

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heymrspatel · 22 days ago

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i love you so much... more than anything

artworks inspired by sculptures for @gallavichthings kinktober 2024 prompts: romantic sex + aftercare inspiration: "cupid and psyche" by antonio canova collection on tumblr & ao3

full artwork on ao3

Antonio Canova Cupid and Psyche (1793) Marble

#if you know me even a little bit this one isn't a surprise. i couldn't do a project like this and not do cupid & psyche. my loves. my muses.#cupid representing love & desire. psyche representing the human soul & vulnerability. coming back to life with a kiss & unconditional love #if that's not ian and mickey idk what is #that's a wrap! it's been real! i hope you enjoyed these even if just a little bit 💙#shameless #shameless fanart #gallavich #gallavich fanart #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #myart #digital art #fanart #jdoeskinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #mykinktober

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d1stalker · 3 months ago

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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

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

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

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

----

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

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

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

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

You miss it.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Thanks.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

You’re not the only who see’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

“True. Let’s start with that.”

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

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

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

“Long day,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have half a mind to join them.

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

So, you make a decision.

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

It’s back at the farm.

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

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

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

----

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bywons · 1 month ago

Text

MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night café, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels CLICK ME

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alastorss · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfic #faye's thoughts — ☁

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marvelouslizzie · 1 year ago

Text

Not Lonely Anymore

summary: You hear your roommate Bucky Barnes moan your name while masturbating and it changes everything between you two.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 3K

warnings: 18+, dry jumping (brief), unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, choking, teasing, dirty talk, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Hello hello! I present you the last part of my Lonely Night series. I am so grateful for your interest in the first two parts. I tried to keep my motivation up and give these two perverts a satisfying ending. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Your feedback would be much appreciated.

You don't have to read the first two parts to understand what's going on but if you want to, please check my blog/masterlist for A Lonely Night and Same Lonely Night.

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Daddy kink and choking is for you ✌️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

You can’t take your eyes off Bucky while you're processing what has just happened. Your eyes roam around his face and bare chest before falling on his shorts. His erection is pressed against the waistband, carefully hidden away from you but the wetness forming on the fabric betrays Bucky’s intentions. You can’t contain your smile, but Bucky doesn’t see it. He’s too lost in his own thoughts, and when your eyes meet, you realize he is worried and embarrassed. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something in order to end this awkward silence, but you beat him to it.

“Did you just say my name?” It comes out so calm, you even surprise yourself.

You know he did. You heard it with your own ears loud and clear. That’s why you dropped your glass after all. But it was that shocking to you. That unbelievable! So you just want him to confirm it. To make it real and assure you that really happened. Maybe then you will be able to believe it.

“I- I can explain.” You notice the cold sweat forming on his forehead.

He seems like a scared kid who got caught doing something he shouldn’t do. And it’s probably because he thinks he might lose you. You would feel the same way if he was the one who caught you masturbating just an hour ago. God, that would be mortifying, but now that you are on the other side of the equation, all you feel is excitement.

The realization eventually sinks in: he wants you. He actually wants you. That gives you a level of confidence you never had before.

You take a step forward and close the distance. Your lips are on his before he can react. You wanted to do this for a long time, but you had been unsure if he would have wanted it or not. You have a clear answer now, so there’s no need to hold yourself back. It takes him a second to respond to you, but you don’t hesitate. You just keep kissing him and it wakes him up like he has been hibernating for a long time.

His hands wrap around your torso and he pulls you closer. His fingers are digging into your hips like he’s trying to convince himself this is real, and he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently slides into your mouth and that makes you moan for the first time. His lips, his tongue… He tastes so sweet. You just can’t get enough of it. It makes you crave him even more, and you don’t know how that is even possible.

Suddenly you push him, hoping to get him back inside his bedroom, but he doesn’t move an inch. He just gives you a dazed look, trying to understand why you did that.

“Work with me. Just move back.” You sound impatient, and he finally understands what you are trying to do.

“Fine.” He raises both of his hands like he’s surrendering, with a smile on his face, then he takes a step back and lets you push him further inside the room. You continue until the back of his knees hits the bed and he falls onto it after one final push.

“Is that what you wanted?” He sounds amused.

“Yeah.” You straddle him without missing a beat, getting comfortable on his lap while he pulls you in for another kiss.

This time it feels a little different. His hands are on your cheeks, holding you still while his tongue explores your mouth. It is the most passionate kiss you have ever had in your life. His erection is standing right there, between your legs and you can’t help yourself… You can’t stop that urge that’s slowly building up and why would you? You’re on his lap, finally doing this. There’s no need to stop yourself from doing what you want. So while he tastes you however he wants, you start to move your hips. After a couple of tries, you find the perfect spot and both of you moan nearly at the same.

He stops kissing you for a second just to take a breath, but he still holds your cheeks with his big hands and looks into your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid you might disappear. You have no plans of disappearing or stopping, though. You keep moving your hips and watching his eyes flutter every time you rub the right spot. It feels good even with the fabric between you two. Yet it’s not enough.

“We should get rid of your shorts.”

“And your panties.”

You raise yourself on your knees, just enough for him to push his shorts down, but you don't give him enough space to take them off completely.

“I don’t wanna use any protection. Do we have to?”

“Well, we don’t have to, but we might need to.” He’s not sure how fertile he is. It’s not like he tried it before, so it’s quite risky. All he knows is he has a lot more come than an average man and that’s a problem when it comes to using condoms. They are practically useless.

“I’m on the pill.” You quickly clarify. You only asked the question to see if he was comfortable with the idea or not.

“Then we definitely don’t need to.” Oh, he’s definitely comfortable. The way he just said it is enough.

He grabs his cock while you pull your panties aside without wasting any time, and you lower yourself onto him while balancing yourself with one arm on his shoulder.

“That impatient?” He taunts you, but he chokes on his words as soon as he feels your wetness. The head of his cock rests between your folds while you answer him:

“Are you not?” You sound relatively normal. Then you keep talking while taking him inch by inch. “Would you rather fuck your fist and fantasize about me?”

He wants to answer you. He wants to say something, but being balls deep inside you makes it harder to do so. He just lets out a low groan while grabbing your ass to ground himself.

You’re not so different from him. The way he stretches you pulls a pornographic moan out of you. You sit still for a second, trying to get used to this feeling. You can’t remember the last time you felt this full. It makes you shiver even without moving. You take your time and he just waits, patiently until you get used to the sensation. After a couple of seconds, you feel confident enough to move.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” There’s a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you don’t notice it because you are lost in the feeling of finally being so full. All of your senses are overwhelmed by it.

You aren’t sure if it’s going to hurt because he’s definitely the biggest you have ever had. So you move your hips slowly and test the waters. There’s something there. Some kind of discomfort. You can’t say you feel uncomfortable, you just need to get used to his size. So you keep moving because there’s this promise of pleasure hidden behind that discomfort. You can nearly taste it and it keeps you going. While trying to figure out the best way to move, you don’t realize Bucky is watching you, carefully. He’s trying to read your expression and see if you are okay. He’s ready to take up the reins or just stop if that’s what you need. His hands gently roam your body, discovering little details about your skin. Like how many moles you actually have.

“No rush. Take your time.” He sounds more like himself, much more confident than before.

You moan because of his words. His voice is deeper and it makes your blood rush. You start to move a little faster and notice how the discomfort slowly fades away. He notices that, too while grabbing your tits with both of his hands. One is colder than the other, and the contrast is dizzying. You lean into him, just to feel him a little bit more, and his grip on your tits tightens.

“God, so fucking pretty!”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on your right nipple. You feel his tongue flicking over and over again while his other hand rests on the other breast. Then he sucks your nipple into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it. You grunt because of the mixed sensations. Just when you are about to protest, he lets out your nipple and moves on to the other one. He gives it the same treatment. A mix of licking, sucking, and biting until you can’t contain your movements. Your hips start to move so much faster, making both of you moan loudly.

“God, I wanted to do this for ages!” The words spill out from your lips without much of a thought.

“You did?” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah.” There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is there?

“Does this mean I am the daddy?”

His question catches you off guard, and you just freeze in the middle of the action.

“You… heard me.” It comes out more like a question rather than a statement.

“Why do you think I was masturbating?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to process what he's just said. He actually heard you. You never used his name, but it doesn’t change the fact that he witnessed something so private. Something you really wanted to hide from him, yet the idea of him hearing you also sets you on fire. Instead of submitting to the urge to get all shy, you decide to ask him what you actually want to know.

“You heard me and instead of making a move, you decided to fuck your fist?”

“What was I supposed to do? Knock on your door and ask if I can replace your dildo?”

“Yeah. Sounds great to me.” You keep moving your hips fast while talking. “Or maybe you are too shy to take what you really want.”

“Shy?” He blinks a couple of times.

“You don’t seem shy but maybe you are. Maybe you are a submissive little boy who wants to just lay here and take whatever I give you.”

You watch his expression change into something so different. It’s not particularly dark, but it feels like it. Before you can say anything else, he just flips you over. Your mouth falls open when your back touches the bed. Instinctively, you try to wrap your legs around his torso, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes your knees back to your chest.

“What are you doing?” Your amazement is evident in your voice.

“Taking what I really want.” It takes a lot of effort to hide your smile. You can’t believe your taunting worked that quickly. “Tell me if it gets too much and I will stop.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

He waits for you to finish talking and then he starts to move. Your mouth falls open once again but this time, it’s not because you are surprised. It’s because you can’t believe how good it feels. It’s completely different than how it felt when you were on his lap. He reaches deeper inside you in this position, and his hands are still on your legs, pushing you further into the bed. You let out another sinful moan.

“Way better than I imagined.”

“Is it?” A smile lingers on his lips. “Feel free to be as loud as you want.”

“Do you want us to get kicked out of this apartment?” It takes every ounce of strength in you to form this sentence without stuttering. It’s so hard to talk like you aren’t getting railed.

“No, I just wanna hear you call me daddy.”

You can’t help but moan. Shit, he really heard everything. You feel so exposed, but somehow it doesn’t bother you. Is he actually into this? Who could’ve guessed?

“If you want that, you gotta work harder than this.”

“Ask for it.”

“Harder, please.” He waits for daddy to come out of your mouth, but it doesn’t. You really meant what you just said, he needs to earn it.

So that’s exactly what he does. He starts to pound you, just the way you fantasized. He manages to touch every part inside you and fills up in a way that makes you wanna cry. Your moans get louder with each thrust.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Your ears start to buzz. You can feel that your orgasm is close.

“Talk to me, doll.”

He wants to hear you, and you don’t feel like holding back anymore.

“I’m-I’m so close, Bucky.”

“What do you need?” His question is instant. You feel that he’s ready to do whatever you want.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You take a deep breath just to be able to keep talking. “Just keep going. Please…” Your voice comes out so pathetic, but you can’t brush off the urge to beg him. He would like that, wouldn’t he? You did it while masturbating and he got a hard-on just because of you. “Please, please, please.”

Your words make him groan like he is struggling to contain his excitement.

“I really need it, daddy, please…”

“Fuck, baby.” You feel him losing control. His thrusts are sloppier but he notices that, too. His metal arm moves on your chest and rests there. You don’t know if he’s trying to keep you still or ground himself. Then he looks directly into your eyes, trying to see if that makes you uncomfortable or not. It definitely doesn’t. Quite the opposite, you need his hand on your neck, and you gently grab his metal hand and move it on your neck without breaking eye contact. You watch his eyes widen with the realization.

“Are you sure?” You nod in response, but it’s not good enough for him. “Words, baby. I need actual words.”

“Please.”

That does it. His fingers tighten around your neck, pressing right against your veins, careful not to crush your windpipe.

“Yess.” Your head is thrown back. This is exactly what you wanted.

The way he’s choking you snaps something inside you. It intensifies everything you are feeling at that moment. Your whole body suddenly starts to shake, and it surprises you. You have never reached an orgasm this quickly before.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, yes!” Your voice comes out hoarser than usual.

“Look at you.” He taps his fingers on your neck while he keeps moving. “My pretty baby. So good for me.”

You only moan in response, already too lost in the waves of your orgasm. It’s running through your whole body like electricity.

“Look at me! Look into my eyes.” He sounds so commanding and you listen to him even though it’s so hard to do it. He looks like he’s about to lose it, too.

“Come with me. P-please.”

“You want me to come, baby?” He asks in a way that makes you wanna cry out even more. Like he won’t come if that’s what you want. He will keep holding back until you say so but you don’t want that. You want him to enjoy this as much as you do.

“Please, daddy. Come with me.” He groans in response. You clearly see how your words affect him, especially calling him daddy. You can’t believe how much he’s into it.

He stops holding back and starts to move in a way that makes you scream. So you do that. You can’t contain the noises you make when he moves like this. You grip on his sheets, letting him ruin you for any other man.

“Fuck! Such pretty sounds… You like it that much, baby?”

“Yes, yes. So good, daddy.” You slur at the last part. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything when he makes you feel like this.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” You can actually hear that he’s close. “I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck.”

“Yess!” You have been waiting for this. You want it so badly. You wanna see him come. You want him to feel good, all because of you. You want to witness a part of him that he hides away from everyone else. It feels like owning a part of him. So private and primitive, but you don’t care. You need this.

He lets out the most guttural moan right before starting to come inside you. He doesn’t stop, just keeps the same pace, emptying himself inside you.

“Take it, baby. Take it! It’s all yours.” You know what he’s talking about. His come is already dripping out, yet he’s not done coming.

It looks like he lost his damn mind, but it’s the hottest thing you have ever witnessed in your life. You are so fascinated by him even though you are still coming yourself. That's why you force yourself to keep your eyes open and watch him while your high slowly fades away. Yet he keeps going. His hands are gripping on your tights, pulling you into him every time he moves. His come is dripping on your ass, to the sheets. It’s so messy but feels out of this world.

After a couple more thrusts, he collapses on top of you. His head rests on the crook of your neck, and you feel his heavy breathing on your skin. You don’t mind it, though. He doesn’t let his whole weight crush you. Always so thoughtful….

Your hands go to his hair, gently stroking it. That makes him move his head and look at you.

“We should’ve done this before.” That makes you wanna laugh, but instead, you just give him a huge smile.

“Yes, we should have. It was amazing.”

Suddenly he moves away from you, leaving you completely empty. It makes you whine instantly. You miss the fullness and the warmth of his cock already.

“Where are you going?” You give him a confused look while raising yourself on the bed. “Come back here.”

“Not was.” He kneels right next to the bed, in between your legs, and moves his head closer to your dripping core. “I’m not done with you, baby.”

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reidrum · 3 months ago

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you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

_______________________________________________

With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #dr spencer reid

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wandaslovey · 2 months ago

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𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢

➺ step mommy!wanda x innocent!fem reader

wc ~ 2.8k

a/n: the people have spoken! the poll i posted was incredibly close between mommy!wanda w/ readers first time being with a woman and mommy!wanda corruption kink. i decided to just go ahead and combine the two. enjoy!

a/n: so i actually hate this buuut i figured i would post it anyways. any feedback is welcome, just please be nice :)) (im fragile🥹)

*not proofread*

cw: unspecified age gap, stepcest, mommy!kink, corruption kink, somnophilia, cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mild humiliation (sorta?)

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

you were cuddled up in wanda’s arms as you lie on your side, facing the television with some old disney movie playing. she had her arm draped around your torso, holding your body back against hers. you had fallen asleep a little while ago, your breathing slow and even.

it was your last week of being home for summer semester before you had to go back to school. you had debated going back home for break, and not even because you had to face your notoriously neglectful father, but because you had to face your step mother—wanda. it had been a few years now that she had married your father. it was a marriage strictly out of convenience and stability. she had her twin boys to raise and wanted a father figure for them to look up to. what she didn’t expect was to inherit you. her beautiful, precious, innocent step-daughter. you were 18 at the time and a senior in high school. she easily took your under her wing and loved you just as much as she did her own children. her love for you started out innocent, but soon morphed into her own perversion. she loved how perfectly innocent you were—even as the years went by. the way your dressed, spoke and acted all seemed to drive her fantasies into an even more perverted corner.

she would often lay awake at night, touching herself to the thought of you. your soft, small hands squeezing and caressing her breasts. your full, pouty lips pressed against hers or better yet.. wrapped around one of her nipples. she knew you were inexperienced and that only drove her more insane. one of her favorite fantasies was having you in her lap, your little skirt bunched up at your waist as she had her wand vibrator pressed up against your cloth-covered pussy. she would try different settings, taking in your little gasps and whimpers as she takes note of just how sensitive you are.

“oh, does that feel good, baby?”

“mm, mommy loves watching you squirm like this in her lap.”

she would watch in real time as your panties become soaking wet, the material almost see through by the time she was done.

now you.. you were completely and utterly enthralled with wanda. she was so beautiful, elegant and seemed to perform every thing she did with grace. even down to the smallest domestic actions, you found yourself squirming in your seat as she went about doing the tasks. growing up, you never had much sexual interest in boys or girls. once your step-mother came into your life, boy, did that change. you found yourself instantly attracted to her femininity, her kindness, but mostly her nurturing disposition. having a narcissistic biological mother meant you lacked one of the most important female relationships in your life.

you craved her attention. since you were attending a local college, that allowed you to travel home often. you didn’t ever go back to see your dad (of course) but to see her. and if you were being honest, you did love billy and tommy as well. they were the greatest little siblings you could have ever hoped for.

each time you went back to visit, your fantasies and thoughts about wanda became progressively more explicit. it started with her holding you, gently stroking your hair as you were cuddled up. however, you knew your feelings were getting stronger when one day you were passing her bedroom and found the door open a crack. she was dressing into her night clothes and you caught a glimpse of her naked back. you couldn’t walk away even if you wanted to. you stood there gawking as she dressed, seeing more of her bare skin than ever before. there was a growing, slightly foreign ache between your legs as you watched her. you pressed your thighs together, mouth slightly agape as you stared at the sight before you.

from then on, anytime you were home you would make it a point to try and sneak a peak of her nakedness whenever you knew she might be showering or changing. in bed at nighttime, your mind ran wild with so many fantasies. you were innocent, but not clueless. you would imagine her perfectly manicured hands sliding down your bare torso, her fingers dipping into the hem of your sleep shorts. then after teasing you a bit, her pulling them off your legs. she would be slow, soft and gentle with her touches. her voice (which you could listen to all day) murmuring sweet praises as she drew small, tight circles around your clit. her kissing and marking your neck. you would proudly wear her love bites.

her gasping with you as she inserts her fingers into your virginal pussy for the first time…

as the movie played on the screen, wanda found herself unable to focus on the scene unfolding before her. instead, she was watching you—your chest rising and falling steadily. she propped herself up, peeking down at your face to make sure your eyes were closed. her libido was burning hot. your body held firmly against hers was enough to get her mind running a mile a minute. you sigh softly in your sleep, wiggling your ass further against her front. wanda smiles to herself, finding the image of you sleeping so soundly in her arms just adorable. but what would be even more adorable? hearing your little whimpers and moans as she touches you. she had never touched you in a non-innocent way before and honestly—she was tired of being good. she wanted her way with you, and tonight she was going to have it.

she began slowly tracing her fingertips up and down your arm, goosebumps rising in their wake. your skin was so soft under her touch. her hand slid to your torso, her fingers slipping under your shirt and running up your waist. she stopped when her fingertips felt the fabric of your bra. she shifted herself carefully so she was propped up on one arm, her body hovering above yours. her free hand now traced slowly up your knee, her fingers on a sinful journey to your soft, milky inner thighs. she gently squeezed the squishiest part, wanting to do that since she saw a glimpse of them whenever you wore your bikini’s at the pool. your legs parted for her and she smiled at your body’s natural instinct to open up for her.

her fingers teased the edges of your panties and she noticed there was already a small wet patch on the material. oh you were a needy girl, weren’t you.

she quickly became desperate to see more of you, but she didn’t want you to wake—yet. she gently pulled your shirt down, the material bunching just past the middle part of your bra. she then leaned down, pressing slow, wet kisses along the tops of your breasts. her tongue snaked out, dipping behind the material and grazing over your nipple. you shifted slightly, a small whine sounding past your lips. wanda paused her movements briefly, glancing up at your face to make sure you were still asleep. once she was satisfied you weren’t going to open your eyes, her fingers resumed their teasing of your inner thighs and panty lines. she dragged her tongue across your chest to your other breast, this time swiping her tongue more firmly over your pert nipple. the hand that was teasing the seam of your panties finally slid past the material, seeking your now inexplicably wet heat. her finger dragged down your slit, gathering the wetness at your entrance and then swirling it up around your clit. you began to stir slightly, your hips gently rolling up into her ministrations.

she kept you on the edge of unconsciousness, being careful not to rouse her little girl prematurely. once she thought you were sufficiently worked up, she maneuvered herself until she was laying between your legs. she gently lifted one of your legs so it bended for her, your unconscious body seeming to assist her as you rest your foot flat on the couch, your leg leaning to the side for better access to your core. she leaned down, her eyes intent on your face as she didn’t want to miss a single reaction. her warm tongue drew a line up your panty-covered slit. your body twitched at the sensation, a small hum in the back of your throat. she repeated the action, gliding her tongue up and down a few times before she needed the offending garment off your body.

her hands caressed up your thighs before grabbing onto your panties and sliding them off of you. she was mindful to take them all the way off, tucking them away in her pocket for later. returning to her previous engagement, she watched your brow furrow slightly, a small gasp leaving your lips as her tongue parted your wet folds. she hummed softly at the flavor of you and fought the urge to delve in right there.

wanting to see those pretty eyes of yours now that her head was between your legs, she licked a firmer stripe up your slit, her hands squeezing your hips. you began to stir again, a feeling of confusion washed over you as you realize there was something hot and wet against your core. you gasped, suddenly awake all at once as you look down and see your step-mother with her head between your legs, her tongue swirling all over your heat. “w-wanda?” you panted out, confused. while you had hoped for something like this to happen, you didn’t think it actually would.

“hmm, hi sweet girl,” she murmured into your pussy, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent as she looked up a you. her tongue expertly explored your folds and you couldn’t help but whimper softly, the sight before you almost overwhelming.

“what’re you doing?” you whimpered. your hips gently rolling into her face at their own accord.

“shhh, baby. let mommy have her fun, hmm? i promise you’ll like it.” you didn’t really need much further encouragement, so you let her proceed without further protest.

“that’s it, huh? were you hoping i would do this to you? were you hoping mommy would finally cave and eat her little girl’s pussy?”

you moaned, her words only making your head more cloudy. she chuckled and you could feel the vibrations reverberate through your core.

you were getting lost in the sensations when she suddenly stopped. “tell me,” she insisted, her eyes were intent on your face as if searching for the truth.

“y-yes mommy..” you whimpered, feeling embarrassed to have to admit this to your step mother. “yes what, baby?” you squirmed under her scrutiny, not wanting to reveal your naughty fantasies out loud. with your hesitation, she decided to tease you further, her finger coming up and circling your entrance. she teased your opening, dipping just the tip of her finger in and out. you whined, her ministrations pleasant but not enough. “please,” you whined. she persisted with her teasing motions, careful not to give you too much stimulation. “tell me the truth milaya moya..i want to hear your say it.” you swallowed back some of your nerves, your fuzzy mind making it harder to want to hide the truth from her. “i’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, mommy..” your voice was breathless, your body became more desperate as her fingers continued teasing you.

“have you? what a naughty girl.. and here i was thinking you were a sweet, innocent little thing.” she cooed, her touch becoming more pleasurable as she rewarded your honesty by drawing firm circles around your clit. you moaned, your eyes slid shut wanting to savor every sensation she was pulling from your body.

“ah ah ah, open your eyes. watch mommy.” her voice was gentle yet commanding; you had no choice but to obey. you opened your eyes and find that where her eyes were once green, they were now almost black with desire. “have you ever stuck your fingers inside here before?” her finger gently prodded at your opening, you body wiggling at the sensation.

“o-once..” while the experience wasn’t entirely unpleasant, you didn’t understand why girls would pleasure themselves that way. it just didn’t feel that good to you. “and you didn’t like it?” she gently probed, the hand that wasn’t teasing your entrance caressing the outside of your thigh.

you shook your head, opting to remain silent to answer her question. “that’s perfectly normal, baby. you know what though? i’ll bet mommy can find that special spot inside of you. will you let me try?” truthfully, she was going to try it regardless of what you said. she knew she would be able to find that sweet, spongy spot to curl her fingers against, drawing white hot pleasure from you. you nodded your head slowly, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth nervously.

with how wet you were, wanda was sure two of her fingers could easily slip inside. she watched you as your eyes were locked in on her hand that was between your legs. when she slipped her two fingers inside your hole, you gasped. there was a slight pressure from the stretch but you found it only added to the pleasure you felt. her face contorted with yours and she mimicked your facial expression, wholly invested in your pleasure as if it were her own.

her fingers moved slowly at first, but soon after picked up the pace. you threw your head back, your eyes shutting once again.

“open your eyes, pretty girl. look at me.” you whimpered, reluctantly opening your eyes again to look into hers. she chose that moment then to curl her fingers up against that spongy spot inside you. your mouth formed an “o,” your brows pulling together as you whined, the feeling surprising you. she quickly picked up the pace, her fingers curling and rubbing up against your g spot with fervor. “that’s it baby. you feel that? you feel mommy inside of you?” you moaned and bucked your hips into her hand, feeling her thumb start to circle your clit.

you felt the pressure building in your lower abdomen, your heart starting to pound in your chest as you get closer to your climax. one of your hands clutched onto her wrist of the hand that was pumping in and out of your wet hole.

“mommy! gonna cum!” your body was writhing and shaking under her touch. you finally become unraveled as she leans down and wraps her lips around your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves into her mouth. the moan you let out was downright pornographic as she helps you ride out your high; her fingers slowing and her tongue giving you little kitten licks until you were fully back down to earth.

you chest rose and fell heavily as you tried to catch your breath. wanda crawled up your body, her legs on either side of your hips as she gently rested her upper body atop of yours. she brushed some stray hairs behind your ear, taking note of your adorably flushed cheeks. your eyes were closed as you gathered yourself and when they peeked open to look at hers, they were met with a sea of green. a small smile was tugging on the corners of her lips.

“hi,” you whispered quietly, your eyes slightly hooded as your orgasm only made you feel sleepy again. “hi, baby love,” she smiled at you, her eyes crinkling and her nose scrunching. you give her back a small smile of your own, your brain and body feeling fuzzy and light. “mmm i feel like jello, mommy.” she chuckled gently at your chosen word to describe how you feel. “yeah?” she leaned in and began peppering light kisses all over your face, relishing in your cuteness. you giggled softly, wrapping your arms around her neck to keep her there. she scooted over, maneuvering herself so she was lying next to you with your body pulled close against hers.

you two lie there in silence for several minutes, just enjoying each others company. “wanda?” you questioned, your voice soft and a little hesitant. “hmmm?”

“how long have you wanted to do that to me?”

wanda smiled to herself which you didn’t see with your face tucked under into her neck.

“a long time.” she said simply.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #corruption kink #somno k!nk

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frmisnow · 3 months ago

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ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw)

summary. what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached — well a hol' lotta sex for sure!

notes. guysss i changed my mind! there will be a fifth chapter because there is something that i want them to do- a refrence to chp. 2 + they need to get lil cheonsa duh?? ✶𝄞 if y'all are currently reading this, i'm probs already on vacation! so it'll take a minute, regardless, i hope everybody enjoys!!

warnings/includes. non idol! ceo! jungkook x f! employee! reader, smut described/implied multiple times!! (morning sex, very slight voyeurism / heavy flirting in a boutique, NASTY dirty talk) , drabble-ish (idk i just want them to be happy), cheonsa mention (we cheered)

the morning had begun in the best way possible. the bright italian sun on your face, the hotel sheets lightly crumpled, well- and jungkook.

jungkook who had woken you up with gentle kisses starting from your face, moving to your shoulder, all the way to your tits. kissed your sore little thighs too, because "they deserved it" after all the things they've gone through - sure.

he made love to you. moaned how beautiful you were along with some other sweet dirty nothings.

it was the kind of sex that made you feel cherished, worshipped even, as if all of his love was burried solely in his tip and he poured all of it into you, when you both came.

after spending what felt like hours wrapped up in each other, you had finally left the bed, your body still tingling from the morning’s activities. the first spot was a cat café, jungkook had read about it somewhere, thinking of you.

you both had spent a few hours in there, sipping on your respective lattes, playing with the little cats while their tiny paws brush against your legs. jungkook had his polaroid camera out at all times, clicking away.

showed the photos to you, told you how cute you looked, how the kitten in your lap looked just like you. how you both should get little cheonsa just like that.

closely after, you both took your time strolling through the streets, hands intertwined, ending with him pushing you into a high-end boutique. you smiled at his eagerness, it wasn't the first time he spend that black card of his on you.

jungkook handed you a dress, that reminded more of a whisper of fabric rather then a real garment, leaving little to the imagination. but you instantly nodded, that's what you liked about being with him; you didn't feel shy, there was no reason to. not with every single thing jungkook has said about your body this far.

the fitting rooms were large, they felt like rooms by themselves. jungkook sat outside patentily, tapping his legs. when you walked out you could clearly see him trying his absolute best not to reach out his hands, his pupils widening ever so slightly, taking a deep breath to compose himself, "turn around, angel, for me."

you did as he said when done, walking over to take a seat on his thigh while his fingers immediately moved to stroke your thighs, mumbling how pretty you were.

the way you were sitting, so close to him, he could make out your pretty panties peeking under the dress. black lace, with little bows he had gifted to you when you visited that lingerie place a few days ago, thinking of you in that store didn't make his growing buldge any better.

and you most certaintly made it even worse by whispering into his ear, how much you needed him and how wet you've been ever since this morning.

he bit his lip, your body was so painfully close and your skirt only rode up, gently pinching your thigh almost as a light warning, "remember where we are"

following you made a little pout, but mumbled a reluctant 'fine' anyway, making your way back into the fitting room.

next stop was a restaurant, you hadn't even noticed that it had gotten late by this time but jungkook took care of it, as always. how he managed to get a reservation at this place, you didn't quite know but you certaintly weren't complaining. he had pulled your leg over his some time ago, running his hands over the skin, the action innoccent in a way caring, like he was so sorry that you had to walk this whole day even though he had spoiled you shamelessly.

his fingers drew patterns and tiny circles over the skin, his face glowing from what was left of the sun through the large windows.

"i'm so happy" you smile, your fingers moving through his hair lightly.

jungkook's lips curl into a soft smile, just like yours, leaning into your touch, "i'm happy too, angel" his voice low and affectionate, "everday"

the evening went exeptionelly well, he talked you stupid about some of the other things he wanted to do, didn't mention business even once.

you both walked back to the hotel, you liked the city at night and had asked him to walk instead of taking a taxi. he didn't let go of your hand, swinging.

he walked back to the hotel with you, holding your hand tightly, it had been your wish to stroll back, you liked the city at night. it all reminded you of that night but it was different this time, it felt good not having wine in your system.

for once you felt like you actually could love jungkook, without alcohol, without your job, any other factor in your way. you could fuck him freely without having to blame the alcohol for it, after.

love is lust. that's why he pounds you into the large matress, tells you how bad you've been, how greedy you were.

he asked questions, dirty ones, you were way to brain fucked to understand dare to say even answer.

asks how much you'd like it, him filling you up everywhere, in the bathrooms, around his apartment, in the elevator, during your shifts at work, how he'd make you walk around feeling full, feeling dripping and sticky under your skirt.

describes how he'd call you into his office just so he could take you nicely on his desk. have you walk out later, nod to all your colleagues, like a good girl.

you barerly hear him and the words make you moan out are vile things that people only say when they are about to come. how you wanted to marry him, have him around you all times, how much you wanted him every minute.

you thought about how small you'd want the wedding to be, you, him and little kitten cheonsa. and you moan again, like a porn star.

and he responds, gripping your hips tighter, "i'd marry you tomorrow if you asked me to, hell i'd make a baby with you right this second if you wanted."

he let out a grunted string of 'please's though you weren't even sure what he was begging you for. your brain felt so incredibly mushy.

few seconds later, he filled you up, making a mess of you. he instantly reached out to touch your chin gently to look at you, "you okay, princess?"

you managed to nod but he shock his head, "words, i need to hear you, angel" it was a soft order, one you couldn't look away from.

so you reassure him that you are happy and so content, he seems to like your words, smiling. lifting you up and maneuvering you on top of him, still inside of you. his fingers trace over your bare back soothingly as he lights a cigarette with his other hand, just like that night.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew. you knew that this time when you woke up, you wouldn't have to leave, you would be able to look at his sleeping smile as long as you wanted. it was a comforting thought.

— cheonsa means angel.

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub , @yoongznme , @snow-strawberry , @ttanniett

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velvetydream · 1 month ago

Text

꒰ : ☕️ [ Mercilessly ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : You're normally one who enjoys slow and romantic sex, but something deep inside changed after seeing Yunho at Coachella and on tour.

Pairing : Dom! Yunho x Fem! Sub! Reader

Word count : 2.5K Words

Genre : Smut with soft aftercare

Smut Content ➵ Size Kink (Reader is smaller than Yunho), Degradation, Dumbification, Sex Toys, Orgasm Denial, Coming multiple times, Oral (F receiving), Raw Sex (Wrap it up people), Manhandling

a/n : Yunho has me in a chokehold and istg I'll cry so hard when seeing all these hot ass man next year at baricade.

Disclaimer : This is purely fiction and in no way supposed to dispict how Yunho is in real life. Please skip and block if you don't like it.

Yunho was a sweet lover; he was always attentive to your every need. Cooking nice food, giving you a massage after a long day, cuddling you while playing games. In the sheets he was a sweet and loving man, taking care of you with soft touches and featherlight kisses. Despite loving this romantic sex, something recently switched inside of you.

Watching him at Coachella, at the tour, and all those ungodly fan cams and pictures Atiny posted over the last few weeks had you shaking. Not being able to pinpoint exactly what is bothering you, the sex was good, no question, but it left you unsatisfied, not that you didn't reach your peak, no you always did with Yunho, yet deep down, something was missing.

A sigh leaves your lips as your brain moves around ideas of what could be bothering you, not noticing Wooyoung watching you and taking a seat beside you. "What's wrong?" A little surprised, you look up; you hadn't even noticed him sit down beside you; so much in your own head right now. "O-Oh nothing! I'm fine!" It wasn't a good idea to tell Wooyoung about this; he ran his mouth too quickly by accident, but then he was the most open and helpful person for this topic out of the boys. "Oh, come on, you've been looking like a kicked puppy for days and now have been sighing for half an hour." Eyes wide, you look at Wooyoung; was it so obvious?

"Okay fine.." Taking a good look around, you two were the only ones in the dorm right now; some of the others went to shower while your boyfriend and Mingi went to get the food for tonight. "I don't know how to explain, like.. Yunho is an amazing boyfriend, he is attentive, sweet and always takes care of me.. in every aspect if you know what I mean, he is romantic and careful with me and.. since a few weeks I just feel.. unsatisfied? No.. that's the wrong wording something is missing? I don't know.." Your head falls into your hands as you try to speak the words swimming through your mind for days. "Sounds to me like you want to get pounded mercilessly." Choking on air, your head shoots up as you look at Wooyoung terrified. Why did he always have a way of speaking his mind without a second thought? "No, seriously, of course, romantic sex is nice, but a rough man that makes you forget your own name is something else. Try it; maybe it is the thing bothering you; if not, we can try and think of something else!" Wooyoung's talking about this as if that's a duo mission of you both now.

At that moment, Mingi and Yunho stepped through the door with bags of food in their hands. Wooyoung jumps up to take something while calling everyone to come eat; the others from the dorms downstairs just arrive a few minutes later. "Hope it was okay with Wooyoung; I know he can be a handful." Yunho presses a soft kiss to your temple, which makes you blush and nod. Wooyoungs words invading your mind now. Suddenly, you noticed every little filthy detail about Yunho. The way he towers over you, the way his long fingers wrap around his chopsticks, how his thick lips love, the way his pants strain against his thighs so deliciously. Shaking your head, you take a big gulp of your cold drink before shoving noodles into your mouth. Snickering made you look to your left, seeing Wooyoung smirk at you with a raised eyebrow, that fucker.

The evening continued with everyone deciding on playing a few games; Yunho sat beside you as he played Mario Kart against San, Seonghwa, and Jongho, screaming insults at them, which surprisingly made you clench your thighs under the blanket. Watching the way his fingers hit the buttons on the controller, your mind wandering off to filthy places yet again. Looking up to see Yunho bite his lip as he watches the TV intently while hitting the buttons on the controller.

"We should probably head down now, I'm getting tired." Yunho announces to the group making some whine in protest. Taking your hand, Yunho and you bid your goodbyes as he leads you out of the door and to the elevator to head down to his and Yeosangs dorm. "Hope you enjoyed the evening, my love." His hand was resting on the lower of your back now, drawing patterns with his long fingers. "Oh yes! It was fun watching you guys play, I also had a nice chat with Seonghwa and Hongjoong." Being led outside the elevator now and to the door of their dorm. "Really? I'm glad you enjoyed the evening.." He continued talking as he opened the door, letting you in first before following, quickly grabbing your waist to pull you against his chest after the door closed. "..You seemed to especially enjoy watching me, don't think I didn't see you rubbing your legs~" He whispers into your ear, placing a soft kiss against the shell.

"Are you in the mood? Wanna take this to the bedroom?" His touch was again soft, featherlight as if you'd break any second. "Please.." You whisper as you turn around throwing your arms around his neck as Yunho picks you off of the ground, moving you two to his room and locking the door. "You're so cute when you're needy baby.." His lips are attached to your neck already as he lowers you down onto your back, the softness of the bed engulfing you. "Also the dress you wore today is so pretty." Lips and kisses travel up your jaw till he meets your lips, capturing yours in a soft kiss. His hands run softly over your sides and up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher.

Those long sinful fingers soon meet your clothed cunt, as he starts to tease with light touches, watching your face contort in pleasure and small gasps leaving your lips. Yet it wasn't enough, it was too soft, and something was missing, yet you let him do his thing for now, maybe Wooyoung and your brain are wrong, maybe it was just the fact you weren't home the last few times, having sex in a hotel room is something else, it's weird. But as Yunho continued, slipping his fingers into your underwear, swiping his digit over your clit and down to your entrance, before entering and softly pumping it in and out. Moans leave your lips as your hands claw onto his upper arms, but you're still not satisfied; it wasn't enough; the touch was too soft, and it felt too light. "Yuyu.." You gasp out, his eyes meeting your hazed ones.

"I need more.." You whine, hands holding onto his arms tightly, his finger still inside you. "Do you want more fingers?" He asks now, not quite understanding what you're trying to tell him. Shaking your head embarrassed, your cheeky burn a bright hot red. "Do you want my dick?" He asks making you giggle slightly at the vulgar word leaving his mouth. "Yes but.. no.. I.. please fuck me so hard I forget my name, rough Yuyu please, I need you, use me.." You whine, your walls clenching around his fingers while you tell him what you need, a new wave of slickness covering his fingers. "That I didn't expect.. Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.." Yunho looks at you worried, but you nod your head immediately. You were more than sure. "Please, Yunho, I need you." And suddenly something switched in Yunho.

Tearing down your underwear, he angles his hand differently before shoving two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out mercilessly, while his head leans down to bite your thigh and suck your clit. Moaning your head is thrown back into the soft pillow that smells like Yunho. Everything smells like him, his whole scent and being surrounding you. "F-Fuck Yunho.." Your thighs were trembling, already close to stumbling over the edge from how intense his fingers were, but before you could come, Yunho pulled his fingers away. "Strip." He orders you, making the wetness between your legs intensify; following his order, you strip out of your dress and bra before he pulls you onto his lap, Yunho still fully clothed.

His fingers soon found your hole again and pounded into it; this time, he added another one, the burn just the right mixture of pain and pleasure. Your head was thrown back as Yunho attaches his mouth to your mounds, licking and sucking the stiff nipples. "F-Fuck..!" Your moans were getting louder, and your hole clenched around his fingers, just to get the orgasm ripped away from you again, whining loudly. "Shut up, you wanted to get pounded roughly, make you forget your own name like a cock drunk little slut, like you're only made for my cock as a toy, the perfect hole to satisfy me." Yunho throws your body onto the bed, before turning you around and pulling your ass up. Before you could ask what he was doing, you could hear a familiar buzz coming from behind you, your whole body jerks as you feel the vibrator being placed against your clit, before it moved to your whole and is pushed in, yet it's your favorite one with two spots so your clit and g spot is being stimulated. "Better keep that in and not come until I'm ready."

You could hear him slowly open his belt which soon hit the ground before he moved to his other clothes, he was taking his painfully sweet time, while your body was being pleasured in two spots soon to make you see stars, biting down on your lip, you hoped Yunho would soon be finished and take the vibrator out before you come. And just as you were close to the edge again, he took it out and turned it off. "Good girl you listened so well~" His hand softly rubs over your back in a praising way. "Now you get what a slut deserves. You'll come so many times on my cock till you can only say my name, till the only thought in that dumb little head of yours is my cock pounding this tight little pussy." Grabbing your ass with one hand, he aligns himself and pushes in slowly, letting out a low groan. Moaning loudly as you arch your back, Yunho feels so deep inside of you. Instead of letting you adjust and start slowly, he grabs your hips with both hands and starts thrusting forcefully while pulling your ass against him in sync. This was what you wanted.

Moans leave your lips as your hands grab onto the sheets nothing else close to grab onto. "Look at that tiny cunt taking my cook so well; you're such a good cocksleeve for me, baby." Yunhos low groans pushed you closer to the edge; of course, he felt how close you were to coming. "Come slut, we're far from over." He groans as he snaps his hips against yours harder as you come on his cock, your walls pulsing around him, but he doesn't stop. Instead, his pace gets quicker and harder, your whole body shaking from the thrusts, and soon another orgasm is building up; this time, Yunho comes along with you. Pulling out for a second, you thought he was finished, but he turned you onto your back before entering your cunt again, making your back arch and tears swell in your eyes.

"Aw baby, no need to cry, I'll just make your wish come true." He whispers into your ear before snapping his hips against yours, his dick moving deep inside of your cunt; your head is thrown back as Yunho is back to attach his mouth to your mounds. He seems to be enjoying this just as much. Thrusting into you ruthlessly, his hips not slowing down once, that must be all the stamina from practice; that man could go for hours without a problem. "Y-Yunho.." Mouth slack as your eyes stare at the ceiling; another high is approaching; your body is already so sensitive from coming two times, already feeling your high; he moves his hand down your body and circles your clit quickly, and your eyes are blown wide from that as your orgasm washes over you that instant. Clutching onto his shoulders now, panting as you're coming down again, but Yunho still wasn't finished.

His big hands quickly grab your knees as he pushes your legs up, sliding into your cunt even deeper than before. "F-Fuck! To deep! Oh, holy shit.." Tears were now streaming down your face from the immense pleasure your body was feeling. "You're doing so great; you're so close to being finished." Yunho encourages you. Of course,, you knew the safeword for any case, but you wanted this so badly, so you nod at him. It takes him a second before pounding into you again, his strong hands holding your legs up into a mating press as he hammers his dick into your cunt. You were so close to seeing stars now from this position; he was so deep, sure he almost reached your cervix; his thrusts weren't letting up but rather getting even more intense. "You're doing so great, come on one more, baby~" His voice was low in your ears as his hips only grew in pace, making your eyes roll to the back; this was heaven. Quickly your last high was approaching, and with another thrust, he spilled in you as your fourth orgasm washed over you, your whole body trembling from overstimulation as his lips softly met yours in a kiss.

"Look at you, love, you did so well~" He slowly lets go of your legs before pulling out, mewling at the empty feeling now. "So pretty~" Kissing the tear streaks softly and rubbing them away with his fingers, your head was in the clouds, feeling his cum flow out of your used hole, eyes staring half-lidded at the ceiling. "Let's wash up." Picking you up softly, Yunho carries your bridal style to the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilette to pee before helping you clean up and putting on some fresh underwear and a shirt of his own. "Was it okay? Not too much?" Your mind was slowly calming down again, looking at him with starry eyes full of love. "It was perfect." Hugging his neck as he carries you back to the room, quickly changing the sheets before cuddling close to you on the bed.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? If you didn't like it how we normally did it." His head looks down at you laying on his chest. Shaking your head in denial now. "I love the way you usually make love to me, but since Coachella and watching you at the tour, I just felt a bigger need; that doesn't mean I didn't like the other times." Smiling up at him, as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. "Glad to hear that; let's sleep now; you must be tired.. and probably not able to walk tomorrow." He giggles as you softly slap his naked chest, shaking your head before lying down again. Arms around each other, as you're lulled to sleep by his calm heartbeat. You definitely have to thank Wooyoung for his input.

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littlelamy · 2 months ago

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could you do one where rafe and reader have known each other since they were kids. where they played pretend marriage and rafe has always believed it was real even when they were kids and some girl tries to come between that but it doesn’t happen.

love your writing

a/n: thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it! 💗🤍

rafe cameron had always been a part of your life. from the time you were toddlers, running through your backyard with imaginary crowns on your heads, to the moment you both said your pretend vows underneath that old oak tree. you were six, maybe seven, and it had been all fun and games—at least for you. rafe, on the other hand, took the "marriage" very seriously, even as kids. "you're my wife now," he’d say with a grin, tugging you along whenever someone tried to play with you. you always brushed it off as rafe just being rafe.

but now, as you stood at another one of toppers' parties, you noticed something had shifted. maybe it was the way rafe had been more possessive lately, a hand always at your waist, or the way he’d glare at any guy who got too close. then there was jessica—new girl, pretty, and definitely interested in rafe.

“so, are you and rafe, like, together?” she asked you casually one day at school, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. there was something smug in her tone that made your skin crawl.

“we’re just friends,” you said, even though the words felt wrong coming out of your mouth. were you really just friends?

"oh, that’s good to know," jessica had smirked, and you knew she had plans.

tonight, you watched from the corner of the room as she slid up to rafe, placing a hand on his arm and laughing a little too loud at something he said. your stomach twisted, but you told yourself it didn’t matter. you and rafe were just friends—childhood friends with a long history of playing pretend, but that was it. still, your feet started moving before you could stop them, weaving through the crowd toward them.

“hey, rafe,” you called out, slipping into the space between him and jessica like it was the most natural thing in the world. his eyes lit up when he saw you, that same boyish smile he’d always had whenever you were near.

“there you are,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like it belonged there. and maybe it did.

jessica’s expression faltered for just a second before she plastered on another smile. “oh, hey. i was just telling rafe we should go out sometime. get to know each other better.”

before you could even process her words, rafe chuckled. “yeah, i’m gonna have to pass on that.”

jessica blinked, clearly thrown off. “what? why?”

rafe’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. “i’m already married,” he said, his tone light but firm.

you froze, heart pounding. "rafe—"

"we got married when we were seven," he added with a grin, not giving you a chance to finish. "i’ve been off the market since then."

jessica laughed awkwardly, clearly not getting the joke. “wait, you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, pulling you closer. “dead serious.”

it took everything in you not to laugh at the confused look on jessica’s face, but the truth was, you didn’t know if rafe was actually joking. he looked so calm, so sure of himself, like this was the most natural thing in the world. like he really did believe you were his wife, even now.

“uh, okay. whatever,” jessica muttered, clearly flustered as she backed away, shooting you a look before disappearing into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at rafe. “what was that?”

he raised an eyebrow. “what was what?”

“you just told her we were married!”

rafe grinned down at you, his blue eyes sparkling. “because we are. or did you forget?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “rafe, we were kids. that doesn’t count.”

“it counts to me,” he said, his voice softening. “you promised, remember? you said you’d always be mine.”

your heart skipped a beat. “we were pretending.”

“maybe you were,” he shrugged. “but i wasn’t.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to say. all these years, you thought it was just a silly childhood game, something you both would laugh about when you got older. but rafe... he had never stopped believing it.

“rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, stepping closer so that his forehead nearly touched yours.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “and i’m yours. it’s always been that way.”

suddenly, the party seemed to fade away, the sounds of people laughing and music blaring becoming a distant hum. all you could focus on was rafe—his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

and maybe you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

#rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron outer banks

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cowboybeepboop · 3 months ago

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Omg your Tyler Owens stuff is so good! Can I request something for him please?

Where reader and tyler have been seeing each other but they haven't told the crew they are not trying to hide it just enjoying keeping it between them. After a night of "fun" reader had big hickey on her neck and collarbone and the crew teases her about it all day even a little on camera and keep asking the reader who she is seeing thinking it might be scott since she's the only one on their team that he's nice so they tease her and tyler gets jealous. That night tyler shows her who she "belongs" to and confesses his love and the crew hears them but still thinks it scott til the next morning they see tyler and her leave the room together and with his own hicky and and the crew is shocked and tyler looks at the reader and just says "busted"

Idk just a funny idea just popped in my head

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reade

Genre: Smut, romantic and fluffy

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Possessive Tyler, jealous tyler, hickeys, a small mention of a biting kink, secret relationship

a/n: Thank you for the super fun request, it quite literally had me giggling and kicking my feet as I wrote. Also thank you so much for your compliment, my requests are always open as I love getting to build off of others ideas. I hope you enjoy and that this was all you hoped it would be although I kind of changed the last little bit on accident 😭

You and Tyler have been secretly going out for a couple months now. You’ve known him the longest out of the rest of the crew as you met in University. Honestly having feelings for him since the day you met but once you became friends you became too worried to lose him.

Your relationship started after a drunk night of confessions and has only progressed since, things just feel right with him. The pair of you have even started sharing hotel rooms in secret. Which is exactly how you ended up in this sticky situation: having a dark purple hickey on your neck.

You groan as you try to cover up the mark with concealer, he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Tyler grins, seeing your frustration as you try and fail at covering it up. He leans his chin on your shoulder, eyeing you in the mirror.

"Babe, why are you even trying to cover it up? You know it'll just keep appearing," he teased, nipping at your ear. You shoot him a glare, with no real heat behind it, as you lean back against his chest.

“Ty, we're so screwed.” you sigh as your fingers brush across the mark, “You know Boone isn’t going to let it go until he finds out who I’m with.”

Tyler lets out a low, amused chuckle, his hands slowly tracing your hips. "And what's wrong with that?" He teased, his lips wandering down the side of your neck.

His hands toy with the hem of your shirt, as if contemplating lifting it up. His voice is a low, heated growl in your ear. "You don't *want* everyone to know you're mine, babygirl?"

“Mm,” you let out a soft noise at his touch, “I thought we agreed to keep things quiet for a while..” your hands move on top of his as you pull them away from you slowly. You turn and give him a sweet smile while adjusting the collar of your shirt, trying to hide it.

You know he's not a big fan of keeping your relationship a secret, it’s just that you're worried about things changing within the team, or heaven forbid his teenage fangirls trying to track you down out of jealousy. You’ve always been a private person and he knows that.

Tyler frowns as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. He steps back with a small sigh, leaning against the counter. He's frustrated with you, but he's always been patient.

"We said that a few months ago," he points out. His thumbs hook into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer against his chest. "I want to show you off, sweetheart. I'm tired of hiding you away...You're mine," he adds, his voice firm.

“I know..” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a soft kiss. “Just a little longer. Plus you have to admit, it’s a little fun sneaking around.” you gaze up at him lovingly.

"Sneaking around has its perks, I'll give you that," he agrees, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as you kiss him again.

His fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt, before his hands find their way underneath it, his touch warm against your skin. "But I'm gettin' impatient, sweetheart. This whole 'secret' thing is wearing me out..."

“You’re always impatient,” you give him another sweet smile, “We should get heading out soon…” your voice trails off as he slides his hands over your bra.

Tyler smirks at the change in your tone, his touch roaming across your bare skin underneath your shirt. He takes his time, tracing the band of your bra with his fingertips.

"Is that so?" he teased, his lips against your neck. He nips at the spot just below your ear, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin. "What's the rush, darlin'?" you shiver at the sensation.

“Come on baby..” you reluctantly pull away from him, “We really need to get downstairs, you have a storm to find.”

Tyler watches you pull away from him with a pout, his eyes roaming over your body. He lets out a frustrated huff before he lets you go. "Fine," he grumbles. "But you're gonna pay for leaving me like *this*." He gestures down to the bulge in his jeans, giving you a cheeky smile.

You lean forward, your hands on his shoulders “I’m looking forward to that,” Tyler grins, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you closer against him. He leans in, as if to kiss you, but stops just short of your lips.

"You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he smirks, nipping your ear, and giving your butt a firm smack through your jeans. “You head out first, I’ll follow in a few minutes.” his voice calls after you as you walk out of the bathroom.

“Don’t be too long,” you reply with a teasing tone, your eyes flicking to his jeans. Leaving the room you head down to the truck. Tyler follows shortly after, readjusting his jeans to make his arousal less prominent.

He can't help but grin at the slight bite mark on your neck, and the faint redness there too. He slides into the driver's seat, glancing over at you before he starts the truck. "Don't you look pretty with my mark on you," he teases, leaning across to buckle you in.

“Shh,” you shush him, pulling down the mirror as you move your hair over the mark. “Ty, play nice.” Boone slides into the backseat with an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, I thought it was my turn to have shotgun Y/N.” he murmurs as his arms cross over his chest.

You shoot him an apologetic look, “We can switch, if you want.” his expression softens as he relaxes into the seat.

“I’m just playing,” he smiles at you before his eyes narrow in on the hickey, noticing it through the mirror you left down. “But what's that? On your neck?” he teases with a smirk.

Tyler can't help but chuckle as Boone teases you, his own grin growing wider. He glances in the mirror, watching Boone's reaction to your neck. "What *is* that, darlin'?" he chimes in, parroting Boone's words and playing along. He gives you an innocent smile, feigning ignorance.

“It's nothing,” you stammer with a bright blush, “Just a bug bite, I must've scratched it too hard..” Lily slips into the backseat with her drone in hand.

“Lily, Y/N has a huge ‘bug bite’,” Boone leans over to her with a smirk as he points out the mark on your neck.

Lily immediately zeroes in on the mark, her eyes narrowing. She leans forward, squinting at the redness and the bruising. "That's a hell of a bug bite!" she snickers, smirking. "It looks more like someone was gnawing on your neck."

“It’s nothing,” you repeat, your blush growing brighter as Tyler starts up the engine, pulling out.

“I wonder who could have possibly left that,” Boone presses a finger to his chin as he gets lost in thought. You groan, knowing that there's no way either of them will let it go until they find the culprit.

The good news is, it's nearly impossible for them to connect the dots between you and Tyler, considering how professional and friendly you keep things.

“Maybe it was Scott,” Lily murmurs to Boone, “he does have a soft spot for Y/N, she’s like the only person he can tolerate.”

Tyler bites back a scoff, fighting the urge to react as they mention Scott. He keeps his eyes on the road, his jaw clenching.

He's trying to keep his cool, but hearing them speculate about who left the mark, and having Scott's name brought up, is getting under his skin.

Boone glances at Tyler, noticing his clenched jaw and the subtle tension in his shoulders. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

“Oh come on, just let it go already.” you purse your lips with a sigh, “I’m not gonna give anyone any names.”

“She didn't deny it.” Boone says to Lily, his tone suggestive. “So maybe we got it right, I guess that would explain why she's so close with the competitor.” he smirks, knowing he's getting on your nerves.

Tyler's hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He can feel the anger rising within him, the urge to speak up and put an end to their speculation growing stronger with each passing second.

But he keeps his lips sealed, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to stay quiet. He knows that getting involved would only lead to them suspecting something. No matter how much he hates hearing them talk about you and Scott.

“Boone, just get your camera out. We’re getting close,” you nod toward the window in front of you, arms crossing under your breasts as you try to ignore their comments

Boone rolls his eyes and grabs his camera from the seat next to him. Lily sighs disappointingly, but she too reaches for her drone.

Tyler's still trying to keep his composure, still fighting the urge to snap at them. But the way your arms cross, pushing up against your chest, momentarily distracts him. He forces his gaze back onto the road.

__________

Boone keeps filming even as the tornado sweeps into the distance, a small smirk on his lips as he films you.

“Let's take a look at our beautiful Y/N,” he walks closer to you with his sly expression, “And her huge ‘bug bite’.” Lily giggles, joining in on the teasing as you roll your eyes in response. Tyler’s grip tightens further on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. He glances at you through the rear view mirror, seeing the way you roll your eyes at their teasing. A mix of anger and possessiveness stirring within him.

Boone chuckles as he gets closer to you, camera in hand. He knows he's getting on your nerves, but can't help but tease you further. You push your hand to the lens, covering it up as you shoot him a soft glare.

“Boone, you've gotta drop it at some point.” His smirk only grows as he pulls the camera back.

“Nope,” Boone grins, his smirk only growing wider. "This is too damn good. Who could have left that on your neck, darlin'? Such a mystery.”

Lily laughs, enjoying the banter. She glances at you, her eyes studying the mark on your neck with mild interest. You let out an irritated sigh, knowing the only way to shut them up is to give an answer, the downside being that it would piss your boyfriend off.

“Well, maybe it was Scott, or maybe it was some rando from the bar.” you shrug, your gaze going to Tyler with an apologetic yet pleading expression.

Tyler tenses as you answer them, the irritation and possessiveness bubbling up within him. He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression neutral, trying not to react.

The thought of you and Scott being together, even in this hypothetical scenario, fills him with a mix of anger and jealousy. But he fights to keep his cool, knowing that he can't reveal his true feelings. Boone and Lily both perk up at your answer, their teasing grins widening.

Tyler starts the engine once again, pulling out on the road as the pair continue to speculate in the back.

“So, it was definitely Scott.” Lily says with certainty, “Y/N is not the type to hook up with some stranger she just met.” you groan in response, knowing that all this talk of Scott was going to bite you in the ass later.

Boone nods, agreeing with Lily's assessment.

"That's what I was thinking," he adds, his eyes darting to the mark on your neck. "Scott has always had a soft spot for Y/N, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he's the one who left that mark."

Tyler grits his teeth, his jaw still clenching tight. He can't help but feel a surge of jealousy and anger at the mention of Scott and your nonexistent 'relationship' with him. You send the pair an irritated glare.

“Well, the case is closed. Will you let it go now?” your annoyance finally gets them to back off.

Boone holds up his hands in surrender, a bemused smile on his lips. "Alright, alright. We'll lay off. For now anyways."

Lily grins, amused at your irritation. "Don't worry, Y/N. We're just having a little fun, that's all. But don't expect us to forget about that 'bug bite' anytime soon." Her implication is clear, and Tyler's expression hardens as he gives you a frustrated glance.

You sigh, relaxing into your seat with the newfound silence, the only thing in the background being Boones music as Tyler drives down the highway. You go over all the possible arguments you're likely to have once you get back to your room, knowing that it's your fault for not just spitting out the truth.

Tyler is stewing in silence, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. He feels frustrated and angry, both at your friends for their teasing and at you for not just telling the truth.

His mind is racing with thoughts of you and Scott together. He knows he's being irrational, that it's not true, but he can't help the possessive jealousy that's consuming him.

He glances at you from time to time, his expression still stoic, silently seething. Your nerves grow as Tyler pulls into the parking lot of the motel, killing the engine and steadying his breathing.

Boone and Lily exit the truck, their conversation resuming as they head towards the motel, none the wiser to the tension between you and Tyler.

Once the others are out of earshot, Tyler turns to you. His expression is still stern, his gaze fixated on you. "We need to talk," he says curtly, his voice low and firm.

“I know baby,” you reach over, pressing your hand to his chest softly. Tyler's expression softens slightly at your touch, but his features remain stern. He takes a moment, letting the soothing feeling of your hand on his chest settle his emotions.

"You shouldn't have let them keep speculating like that," he finally says, his voice low and controlled. "And I really didn't like hearing Scott's name brought up."

“I know and I’m sorry..” you sigh softly, “They just wouldn't let it go and I figured if I gave them their answer they would back off.” your eyes study his face.

Tyler's expression softens a bit more, the anger and jealousy slowly fading as he sees the remorse in your eyes. "I get that," he relents, the edge in his voice fading. "But you know how I feel about Scott... hearing them talk about the two of you like that, it just pisses me off."

“But he's just a friend,” your voice is quiet as he cuts you off, Tyler lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"You say that, but you two have this... strange, close friendship. And it bugs me. He's always making those comments, he's always hanging around you... I just don't trust him, darlin'."

Your eyebrows furrow softly, you know you don't have a reason to defend him or yourself but it doesn't stop the words from spilling out of your lips. “We don't have a strange friendship.”

Tyler's expression hardens again, the irritation creeping back in. "Y/N," he interupts, his tone firm. "He calls you 'doll'. He's constantly flirting with you. And he's *touching* you all the time. How is that not strange?"

“It's not like that.” you huff out, arms crossing under your breasts.

Tyler's eyes flicker to your chest as your arms cross, a part of him distracted by the sight. But he quickly snaps his gaze back to your face, irritation and jealousy once again taking hold.

"Then tell me what it's like," he challenges, his voice growing firmer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you two have some kind of thing going on. I don't like it, darlin'."

Your irritation peaks as you get out of the truck, slamming the door behind you. You're just frustrated with the way everyone has been pressing you all day.

Tyler follows closely behind you, shutting the truck door with more force than necessary. He follows you into the motel, his irritation matching yours.

As soon as you reach your room, he pushes the door open and steps in after you, his expression intense and serious. "We're not done talking about this," he states firmly, closing the door behind him.

You feel more relaxed in the privacy of your room, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you pull Tyler to you. “I’m sorry,” you press your face to his chest, “But it’s really not like that with him, I swear.”

Tyler's frustration eases slightly as you pull him to you, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist. The feeling of you against him soothes his irritation somewhat. He lets out a deep sigh, his grip on you firm and possessive. "I want to believe you," he admits, "But it's hard not to get jealous when I see him constantly all over you."

You giggle softly, your voice muffled by his chest. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, he’s just a little awkward around others, that's why he sticks by me so much.”

Tyler lets out a scoff, his arms clinging tighter to you. "Yeah, real 'awkward'," he mutters, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "He's always touching you, calling you cute little nicknames... that doesn't seem 'awkward' to me, that seems pretty damn intentional."

“Trust me Ty, he just sees me as a younger sister.” you gaze up at him, “Plus he’s probably going to propose to my sister the second he gets back home.” your voice is a soft murmur, as you reach up brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Tyler's expression softens more as you explain Scott and your sister's history. A mix of relief and guilt washes over him, realizing his own insecurities and jealousy have gotten the best of him.

He lets out a sigh, his voice quieter than before. "I guess I'm just feeling a little protective of you, darlin'. I don't like seeing other guys touching you like that. It pisses me off."

“I think I'm a fan of your jealous side,” you smirk up at him, your hand trailing down his chest. Tyler's eyes darken with desire, a low growl rising in his throat as your hand trails down his chest. Your comment only adds fuel to his possessiveness, stoking the flames of his jealousy.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling your body flush against his. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his voice deep and gravelly.

Standing on your tippy toes you whisper into his ear, “It turns me on, seeing you all possessive..” your hand travels down to his belt buckle.

Tyler's breath hitches as you whisper into his ear, followed by your hand moving to his belt buckle. His body tenses, a mixture of anticipation and desire running through him.

"Is that so, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. His hands grip your hips firmer, his thumbs gently tracing small circles against your skin.

“I like it when you get worked up like this.” you press kisses to his neck as your hands fumble with his belt, pulling it off and unbuttoning his jeans.

Tyler lets out a low moan as you press your lips to his neck. His body tenses even more, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. Your hand fumbling with his belt, followed by the unbuttoning of his jeans, only adds to his growing arousal.

His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, babygirl?” he growls, his voice raw and husky.

“I’m trying to make things up to you,” your eyes are full of desire as you drop to the ground, pulling his jeans and boxers down with you.

Tyler's breath hitches as you drop to the ground, his gaze locked on yours as you pull his jeans and boxers down. The sight of you on your knees, your eyes full of desire, sends a jolt of anticipation through him.

He watches you intently, his hands resting on your shoulders, his expression a mixture of hunger and need. He's barely able to muster a reply, "And how exactly do you plan to do that, darlin'?"

With a wicked smile, you grasp ahold of Tyler's length, his eyes widening in surprise as you begin to suck him off. Your mouth is hot and wet, your movements slow and deliberate. You savor the feel of him in your mouth, the way he responds to your touch. His hands find their way into your hair, gripping it tightly as you tease him with your tongue, tracing the veins that run along his shaft.

His hips buck slightly as you take him deeper, your eyes never leaving his. The look in your eyes is full of challenge and defiance, as if saying 'You want to be possessive? I'll give you something to be possessive about'. Tyler's jaw clenches, his eyes hooded with desire as he watches you, his breathing growing heavier.

You feel a thrill run through you as you bring him closer to the edge, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. The sounds of his pleasure are music to your ears, his groans and gasps driving you to go further. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, feeling him throb in your grip.

Tyler's eyes are squeezed shut, his head thrown back in ecstasy. His hands tighten in your hair, guiding you as you suck him off, the tension in his body building. His hips rock into your mouth, his movements growing more erratic as you increase your pace.

You moan around him, feeling his cock thicken and swell. You know he's close, and the power you have over him at this moment is a heady rush. His grip on your hair tightens, his breathing becoming ragged.

With a final, desperate thrust, Tyler cums into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid filling it as you swallow reflexively. His hips jerk, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You keep your eyes locked on his, not breaking the intensity of the moment as you finish him off, your hand still working his shaft gently.

As he starts to come down from the high, he groans, pulling you to your feet. His hands roam over your body, his touch hungry and possessive. You stand up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your own desire spiking from the sight of him so lost in pleasure.

He wraps his arms around your waist, his mouth finding your neck as he starts to pepper it with hot, demanding kisses. His teeth graze your skin, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spots he knows drive you wild.

You gasp as he pulls your shirt over your head, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. His eyes devour your bare chest, his breathing growing ragged. He cups your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples as he sucks in a sharp breath.

Leaning down, Tyler captures one of your nipples between his teeth, tugging gently before sucking it into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, eliciting a moan from you as he rolls the other between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your knees weak.

With a sudden, yet gentle force, Tyler pushes you back against the bed, his hands firmly on your hips as you stumble slightly. You let out a surprised gasp, but the excitement in your eyes is unmistakable. He follows you, his body pressing against yours as you fall back onto the mattress.

With deft movements, he slides your pants and panties off in one swift motion. The fabric whispers against your skin as it's peeled away, leaving you bare and exposed before him. You can feel the coolness of the room air kiss your newly exposed flesh, making you shiver with anticipation.

Tyler groans, his eyes darkening as they drink in the sight of your bare body. Goosebumps rise along your skin, not from the cold, but from the raw hunger in his gaze. His hands glide up your thighs, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending waves of heat through your body.

He peels his own clothes away with a sense of urgency, his shirt and pants dropping to the floor in a hasty heap. His chest is bare, muscles flexing with each breath he takes, his skin warm and inviting. You can't help but reach out and run your fingers over his abs, feeling the power in each defined muscle.

He settles between your thighs, pressing warm kisses into your skin, starting at the top of your thighs and moving closer to your center. Each kiss feels like a promise of pleasure to come, sending shivers down your spine and making your legs quiver with need. His hands hold your thighs open, his gaze never leaving yours as he kisses and nips his way closer.

Your eyes widen with anticipation as he reaches the apex of your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. The kisses become softer, more gentle, as if he's savoring the moment before he takes you over the edge. His tongue flicks out, tracing the crease of your thigh before delving into your folds. You moan, arching your back as he tastes you.

The room is filled with the sound of your breathy gasps and his hungry groans. His mouth works against you, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving you closer and closer to climax. You're lost in the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you begin to rock your hips against his face.

His eyes stay on yours, watching your every reaction, as his mouth works its magic. You can feel the tension building, your core tightening with each stroke of his tongue. He seems to know exactly what you need, his mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your body's desires.

Your legs start to tremble as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Tyler's eyes darken with satisfaction, his hands moving to grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he increases his pace.

The pressure builds, your body feeling like it's going to combust from the inside out. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he flicks your clit with his tongue, sending you spiraling over the edge.

Your body convulses with pleasure, a keening cry escaping your lips as you come apart in his arms. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to lick and kiss until you're a puddle of pleasure beneath him.

As your breathing starts to even out, Tyler pulls back, a smug smile playing on his lips. He leans over you, planting a gentle kiss on your stomach before moving up to claim your mouth with his. You can taste yourself on his lips, and the act of sharing your own arousal with him only makes your desire for him grow stronger.

He pulls away, reaching for a condom from the nightstand. His hands are shaking slightly with his own need, but he manages to sheath himself before pressing back into you. You spread your legs wider, welcoming him with a needy whine.

As he enters you, you feel a sense of rightness, of belonging. He's so much more than just a friend, more than just a lover. He's yours, and in this moment, you're his.

He moves with a fierce gentleness, his hips rocking into yours as you both chase the high of your shared passion. The friction is delicious, each thrust sending sparks through your body.

You bite down gently on his shoulder, muffling your moans as they build in your throat. Tyler's eyes darken with pleasure at the small bite of pain, his movements growing more urgent. He knows you're close, he can feel it in the way your body clenches around him.

He slows down, his hips rocking into you with a purposeful rhythm that has you on the edge of sanity. Each stroke is a declaration of his possession, a gentle reminder that you're his, and he's yours. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with the same patience and care as he does with the rest of your body.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold in the scream that's threatening to break free. Tyler notices, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he leans in to whisper in your ear. "Let go, darlin'. I've got you."

With those words, the dam breaks, and you cum around him, your body tightening and releasing in waves of pleasure. Tyler's hips stutter for a moment, his control slipping as he's overwhelmed by the sensation of you coming apart beneath him. His eyes squeeze shut, his own climax now just seconds away.

As your orgasm subsides, Tyler's own builds, his breathing ragged and uneven. He opens his eyes, looking into yours, and you can see the desperate need in them. He wants to claim you, to make sure there's no doubt in anyone's mind who you belong to.

The idea hits you like a lightning bolt, and you act on it without a second thought. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. With your teeth, you graze the sensitive skin just below his ear, feeling his body jerk in response. He's so focused on driving into you, on reaching his peak, that he doesn't notice at first what you're doing.

But when your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, he gasps, his eyes widening. He tries to pull back, but you hold him in place, your nails digging into his shoulders. "What the hell are you..." he starts to protest, but the words die in his throat as pleasure overwhelms him.

You suck hard, leaving a dark mark that matches the one he gave you. He groans, his hips jerking as he reaches his own climax. You can feel his warmth fill you up, and the feeling of his pulsing inside you sends you into another round of spasms.

"You little minx," he pants out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rides out his orgasm. You giggle against his neck, your mouth still latched onto his skin. "What was that for?"

You pull away, licking your lips and smiling wickedly up at him. "Payback," you murmur, your voice still breathless from the intensity of your shared passion.

Tyler laughs, the sound deep and rich, his body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He leans down to kiss you, his tongue tracing the path your teeth had just taken. "Fair is fair," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

He pulls out of you with an exhausted sigh, his chest heaving with the effort of his release. Tyler rolls over, pulling you to his chest as you both catch your breath. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, but it's not unpleasant. It's a heady, intoxicating scent that makes you feel alive and desired. Your cheek rests against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal.

"But you know," he says after a moment, his voice teasing, "I can't have just anyone leaving marks on my neck. That's my job."

You laugh, feeling the tension from earlier dissipate completely. "Deal," you murmur, snuggling closer to him. Tyler wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as your bodies begin to cool.

The sound of your combined breathing fills the quiet room, the only other noise is the faint hum of the air conditioner. You both lay there, lost in the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace, the earlier tension and jealousy a distant memory.

"I love you," Tyler whispers, his voice barely audible. You look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I know," you reply, placing a gentle kiss on his chin. "And I love you too."

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, the darkness of the room a stark contrast to the warmth and light that you share between you.

__________

Tyler's eyes slowly open, a yawn escaping his lips as you plant gentle kisses against his skin, trying to rouse him from his comfortable slumber. His arms automatically wrap around you, pulling you close.

"Mornin', darlin'," he mumbles, his voice groggy from sleep.

“You better get ready for the day,” you whisper into his ear, relaxing into his body.

Tyler groans, his lips finding your neck as his hands slide up your shirt, his touch firm yet gentle as he pulls you closer. "Do I have to get up?" he grumbles, burying his face against your skin.

“Mhm, it’s almost 9 baby.” you run your fingers through his hair, fixing the wild strands.

Tyler groans again, his body reluctant to leave the warm embrace of the bedsheets. However, the mention of the time makes him reluctantly start to untangle himself from you, his eyes slowly opening to the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Fine," he mumbles, groggily propping himself up on an elbow. "But only if you go get us some coffee, darlin'."

“You’ve got it,” you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “But you better be downstairs in 20.” your tone demanding as you turn away, grabbing your keys and wallet as you step out of the room.

Tyler watches as you leave the room, a sly grin on his face. He's never seen you this authoritative before, but he finds it oddly attractive.

"Yes ma'am," he replies, his voice still groggy with sleep. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

He sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing his bare chest. He watches the door for a moment before pushing himself up and heading towards the bathroom.

You lean against Tyler's truck watching as Boone and Lily argue over something small, your grin growing. The two cups of coffee sitting on the hood of the car.

Boone and Lily, with their usual banter, are engaged in a heated discussion over something small. You can't help but chuckle as you lean against Tyler's truck, watching them go at it.

Tyler steps outside, his hair still messy from sleep, and comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"What are they arguing about now?" he asks, his breath warm on your skin. Your body stiffens at his gesture noticing how Boone and Lily gaze over at you.

“I’m really not sure,” you glance over at him, feeling your stomach twist as Boone stalks over to the pair of you.

Tyler grabs his coffee, not missing the way Boone's gaze goes to the mark on his neck. Tyler suppresses a grumble, his grip on the coffee cup tightening slightly.

Boone's smirk is infuriating as he approaches the pair of you. "Looks like you had an eventful night, Tyler," he teases, his tone slightly mocking.

“Looks like we’re busted.” Tyler gazes down at you with a soft smirk as your cheeks flush.

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