#the blush thing is new I’m trying it out

[syluslnd]

Could you maybe do one where reader is a tomboy but decides to wear a skirt in front of Sylus for the first time for a date but is really shy about it? And maybe when he sees how shy she is, he teases her about it? :3

wearing a skirt for the first time in front of sylus

The restaurant was extravagant with glittering chandeliers and white linen tablecloths and you felt out of place as soon as you stepped through the doors. The soft, unfamiliar swish of the skirt you wore made you tug at the fabric, self-conscious. This was the first time you’d ever worn one and it was just for him—Sylus, who had insisted on taking you to this fancy place for a “proper night out.”

As you stood just inside the entrance, nervously smoothing your skirt, you saw Sylus waiting for you near your table. His eyes locked on you immediately, widening just a fraction as he took in your outfit—a soft blouse paired with a modest skirt that fell just above your knees.

“Well, well” he said with a smirk, moving towards you, his gaze practically gleaming. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “It’s just a skirt, Sylus” you muttered, looking down, fidgeting with the hem.

He chuckled softly, reaching out to tip your chin up so you’d look at him. “Oh, I know, sweetie. But it’s on you.” His tone was teasing but there was warmth in his eyes, the usual sharp edge of his gaze softened. “I didn’t even know you owned a skirt. Did you have to raid someone else’s closet for this?”

You scowled, though it lacked any real bite. “No! I… I bought it. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight?” His smirk widened, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—a glint of genuine appreciation. “Now I feel special.”

Your blush deepened, and you looked away, wishing the floor would swallow you up. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, kitten. This is more than enough for me.” He took your hand and led you to the table, clearly enjoying every bit of your discomfort.

When you sat down, Sylus didn’t let up. “You keep tugging at that skirt like it’s going to run away” he teased, a sly smile on his lips. “Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

You glanced at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “I just… I’m not used to this. That’s all.” You tried to focus on the menu, hoping the red on your face wasn’t too obvious.

He chuckled, setting his menu aside as he leaned in. “I can tell.” His voice dropped, becoming softer, almost… affectionate. “You look beautiful, you know?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—well—” You stumbled over your words, suddenly finding it impossible to meet his gaze.

“I’ve seen you in a hundred different things but this… this is something new.” He let his eyes roam over you for a moment and you could feel his gaze even without looking at him. “And I have to say, I think I could get used to this view.”

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it” he said, his smirk returning. “You get all shy and it’s… cute.” His voice softened, a warmth in it that was hard to ignore.

“Cute?” you repeated, rolling your eyes in a weak attempt to hide your smile. “Right, because I’m so cute.”

“Yes” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours, completely serious for once. “Yes, you are.”

You felt yourself blush all over again, your heart pounding as you met his eyes. There was something more in his gaze, something that went beyond teasing, something that had been simmering under the surface for a while now.

And as you sat there, fidgeting in your skirt and trying to keep your cool, Sylus reached across the table, his fingers brushing over yours in a small, reassuring gesture. “Next time, you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But… if you do, I won’t mind one bit.”

Your heart fluttered and for once, you found yourself smiling back.

[nvtstvrns]

Prettied Up - Chris Sturniolo

Smut, dom!chris, sub!fem

Summary: you and Chris are getting ready to go to dinner with Nick and Matt when he sees you doing your makeup in the mirror, he decides to eat you out while you do your makeup.

Contains: smut, sub!fem, dom!chris, oral (fem!receiver), almost getting caught, pet names (ma, pretty girl, etc)

Authors note: I am so sorry I put this story off for so long, here it is 😭

Divider Credits: @bernardsbendystraws @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune

Chris and I were getting ready for dinner with Nick, Matt, Mikayla and Nate, we were in Boston for a few weeks and we wanted to get together with our old friends. I was standing at the mirror starting my makeup, Chris was in the shower.

“Ma, can you hand me that towel, please?” He asks me his finger pointing through the shower curtain. I walk over to the towel and I hand it to him. I quickly go back to doing my makeup, we only had twenty minutes left before we had to leave.

Chris comes behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach and he lays his head on my shoulder.

“Chris, you’re getting my clothes all wet.” I say pushing him off my slightly.

“That’s not too bad though right-“ he says hugging me from behind again. This time his hands trail to my bare waist. “Clothes will dry…” he reaches up and cups my breast.

“Chris.” I warn as I watch him run his hands all over my body in the mirror. “I’m trying to do my makeup.” I say blending out my blush trying to shake off the goosebumps. I could feel myself throbbing in need and I took a deep breath.

“You gettin all prettied up f’me?” He says as he puts on his underwear and then his pants. I grin and turn around. “Chris stop making me-“

He gets closer to me and grabs my jaw. “Stop making you what?” He says in a husky voice. My knees buckled. His grip on my jaw was light and soft but it still put a huge effect on me.

I look up at him with puppy eyes and he lets me go.

“Can I make you feel good baby…give you a little reward…”

“For what?” I ask quietly.

“You deserve it…but keep gettin prettied up for me ma.”

He gets down on his knees in front of me. This was a new thing from him, it’s always me getting on my knees for him, was he really going to make me feel good with no returns at all? I feel his hands fiddle with my button on my pants and then he unzips them, pulling them down to my ankles and then pulling them all the way off. His eyes trail up to mine and he places a soft kiss to my lower abdomen.

“Keep doing your makeup don’t watch me.” He says pulling my underwear off and throwing them somewhere with my pants. He doesn’t even hesitate, his mouth quickly attaching to my clit, I let out a gasp and I hang my head back. He taps the back of my thighs telling me to continue doing my makeup, so I do, trying to line my lips with all of this pleasure is not working, so I move on to my mascara.

“Oh my-fuck Chris…” I say as my legs begin to shake, I can’t focus on just my makeup, the image of him pumping his fingers in and out of my wet pussy while his mouth abuses my clit was way too much. “I’m gonna cum, Chris! Oh my fucking god, Chris…” I say grinding my hips on his face.

“Mmm yeah grind my face ma, cum all over me.” I continue grinding my hips reaching closer and closer to my high, with a final cry my legs jerk and I cum all over his face…luckily my makeup was fully finished, it didn’t look exactly how I wanted it to, but I did my best.

“Chris! Y/n come on! We have to leave!” Matt yells, in a daze I put back on my pants and he puts on his shirt, and puts on deodorant and other things. He wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“Don’t let it affect you too much baby.” He says kissing my temple “we still have dinner to eat, and then you can have me.”

This was a lot of fun to write, and thank you sm for all of your support lately (I recently did a face reveal) so thank you for all of your compliments on that. Thank you for reading my fanfictions and if you ever have a request just send me a silly little message.

[mingtinysworld]

How would the ateez members react to you writing fanfiction?

Me and my bestie @bananayuyu had this convo, so it’s inspired by her also hehe. I hope you enjoy this headcannon

Hongjoong

Hongjoong would love it so much. He would make it a challenge that every time you post something new, he would do exactly what you wrote that night. He would make every night so enjoyable for you, and it would honestly give you the motivation to keep writing every day.

“I liked what you wrote in the last chapter baby.” He says as he leaves soft kisses along your neck.

Seonghwa

Seonghwa would love it, and he would be flattered, but he would be so shy. SO shy. He would blush, and he would stutter, and he would cutely ask to read it. As he reads, his heart would flutter, and he has to take a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart.

“You’re ok Seonghwa, you can survive this, it’s ok.”

Yunho

If Yunho found you writing fics about him, he would “scold” you. Saying how you have the real thing right in front of you. However, as soon as you’re out of sight, he grabs your laptop and opens up to your writing, where he starts to read, intrigued. At some details, he gets fired up.

“What do you mean I have black hair?? I clearly have brown hair, geez this girl can’t write.” And then he goes right back to reading until it’s early morning.

Yeosang

Yeosang would be totally horrified. He reads one sentence and he immediately runs away, needing to shield his eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU WRITING MY GOD”

“Yeosang chill, it’s not that crazy.”

“No no no no where’s the bleach please I need to unsee this help meeeee.”

Yeah he’s a bit dramatic

San

San would be a wildcard. He would either absolutely love it, or he would absolutely hate it. He most likely would get jealous, even if the story is about him.

“What, I’m not enough for you so that you have to write about other men?” He says while folding his arms, cute pout prominent.

“San, baby, I’m literally writing about you! Why are you jealous”

“Well you have me right in front of you.”

Mingi

Mingi would pretend like he doesn’t love it, but he’s downright filthy. He takes out a note pad and sits you down and has you read to him, while he takes notes on exactly what you like.

“Ok so here we have bondage, temperature play, primal play, sir kink”

“Mingi hold on, what are you even doing?”

“Taking notes babe, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung would absolutely love it, he wouldn’t even hide it. As soon as you admit you write fics about him, his eyes would light up, and he would feel flattered. He follows your tumblr and ao3 blog, and regularly reads your fics, and even gives feedback.

“Wow Y/n, you did so good on this one. What I would do differently is use a different adjective here maybe?? And then these typos here…etc etc”

Jongho

He is secretly a FREAK. He acts disgusted by the idea of you writing filthy scenes. His lip curls in disgust and he rolls his eyes, but deep inside he’s so unbelievably happy. He loves that you’re writing about him, and he even takes some inspiration from them.

“I had no idea Y/n was into this, I might give it a try.”

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 3

a/n: forgot to post this on here my bad 🫣 saw someone ask about a taglist for this story— let me know if you wanna be added to that :)

“You just had to pick somewhere in town for dinner? You know how the traffic is on the weekend.” JJ grumbled as they finally pulled into the parking lot of a new restaurant in town.

“I only picked it because last time we went out you not so subtly mentioned wanting to try a new place. Plus you didn’t even have to drive. Now come on, our reservation is for 8 and we’re cutting it a little close.” Emily answered as the women both exited the car.

They made it into the restaurant and were almost instantly seated. Emily pulled JJ’s seat out for her in an act of chivalry that had always been there since they’d met and they both settled to look over their menus. As the two women decided on a bottle of wine they missed the younger woman seated just three tables away from them. Y/n sat with a grimace as she listened to her date drone on about her work life and ab routine.

This was her first date in the DC area and she was starting to regret letting Grayson talk her into this. She’d been single for a while and if Susan was any indication of the DC dating pool, she’d be single for way longer. She’d matched with Susan on a dating app and they talked for a few days before setting up this date. Susan was beautiful, no doubt, but that seemed to be the only thing she had going for her. She’d basically spent the entire evening talking about herself and it was not looking good. She’d been in the city for about a month and a half and all Grayson could talk about was her needing to get laid. As she sat and listened to the older blonde drone on, she was really trying to decide how important an orgasm was to her right now.

“It really has been such a tough year at the firm though. They’d really be lost without me.” As the words left Susan’s mouth and Y/n fought an eye-roll, the waitress serving the other table turned and bumped into the woman’s back.

The teen turned around with an apology on her lips, but the disgust on Susan’s face was clear as day. She grumbled out a response but turned to Y/n to complain. “I can’t believe they’d just hire anyone here. I think she dented my hair, I’m gonna go fix this mess in the bathroom.” Susan left the table and Y/n sighed. She was not worth the hassle. She pulled her phone out to shoot a text to Grayson.

y/n: this is the worst date i’ve been on… like ever

gray: oh it can’t be that bad. She was so hot.

y/n: well that’s all she’s got going for her. she’s in the bathroom right now fixing her hair because a waitress barely touched her.

gray: oh that is not hot… this is disappointing. you know you wouldn’t even be on this date had you already made a move on your sexy fbi neighbors.

y/n: gray get serious. they’re literally married to each other??? why would i make a move on either of them?

gray: well you and i both know you don’t just want to sleep with one of them. if you had it your way, you’d be sandwiched between both of them. which i think you could be, if you weren’t such a pussy.

Y/n huffed an exasperated laugh as she readied her fingers to reply. What she didn’t expect was to hear her name floating over her shoulder. She turned around in confusion and was even more surprised to see JJ leaning back in her chair with a smile. “JJ? Oh, Hi!” the younger woman responded hoping the low light was hiding the blush coloring her cheeks. She watched as the older woman got up from her table and came to lean against her chair.

“Hi sweetheart, what are you doing here? Are you alone?” JJ asked curiously. She chose to ignore the term of endearment that slipped from her lips, of course.

“Uh no. I’m actually on a date right now.” Y/n said gesturing to the other glass of wine across from her.

JJ’s eyes widened a bit in surprise and she couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming the restaurant for the potential date. Coming up with no leads she brought her eyes back to Y/n, “Oh really? And how is that going?”

Y/n looked around before whispering to the older blonde, “Terrible.”

JJ laughed cheekily as she gazed at the younger woman’s pout. Y/n shook her head in exasperation before grabbing the glass of wine she’d been nursing for the whole night. “I really hope this isn’t an indicator of how dating in DC is going to be for me. Where’s Emily?”

“Awe, they can’t be that bad, can they? She’s gone to the bathroom.” JJ said looking over her shoulder and seeing the brunette heading over to her. “Oh, here she is.”

“Jen, what are you– oh. Hi Y/n, what are you doing here?” Emily asked in shock allowing her hand to settle at JJ’s waist.

“She’s on a bad date. What took you so long?” JJ wondered as she rested her hand on Y/n’s shoulder unconsciously stroking the bare skin in comfort.

“Oh, that sucks. I got stuck waiting for this god-awful woman to finish fluffing her hair at the sinks. She was complaining about the incompetent staff knocking her coiffed hair out of place. God, I hate people like that.” At the older woman’s explanation, the younger of the three downed the rest of her wine with a grimace and sigh.

“Oh my god, is she your date?” JJ asked giddily.

“Unfortunately. She’s spent the entire evening talking about her law firm and ab routine, and then this happened. Now I must suffer through this evening and think of a way to ghost her.” Y/n whined.

“How did you end up with someone like that?” Emily wondered aloud.

“She didn’t seem like this when we matched. I’ve honestly been so shocked all evening. Trust, there won’t be any more dates after this.”

“Oh poor baby,” JJ started when she spotted a huffy blonde making her way over. “Looks like she’s coming back. We’ll be over there, just cough really loud or something if you need to be saved.” JJ winked, linking her hands with Emily’s and going back over to their table after Y/n nodded in understanding.

Once back at their table, both women couldn’t help but stare. “Well one thing for sure, she’s into women. And we seem to fit her type.” JJ smirked as she watched the younger woman nod along while her date rambled.

“And I’ll drink to that!” Emily grinned and she and JJ clinked their glasses together. Eyes still trained on their beautiful neighbor.

[rootedinrevisions]

Cute When You're Jealous

SUMMARY: Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous.

PAIRING: Glen Powell x Reader

A/N: Thanks to the Anon who sent this request in! I tried to do something a little different with it and make Glen the jealous one instead of the reader. I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "You're really cute when you're jealous."

WARNINGS/TAGS: None. Just Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 850

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The two of you are stretched out across Glen’s couch, perfectly tangled together after the few days he was away. One of your legs is draped comfortably over his thigh, and you’re curled into his side, with your arm resting across his stomach. He’s got one arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his other hand resting over your forearm. His fingers are tracing light, soothing patterns up and down your skin—a touch that feels both intimate and grounding.

You smile up at him as you begin telling him about the Jurassic Park screening, the one he had wanted to take you to. He’s watching you closely at first, but as you start talking about the details of the night, his fingers gradually stop moving. He’s silent as you describe the T-Rex scene, his hand stilled against your arm, and you notice he’s not looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze is fixed somewhere down near his feet, and the usual ease in his expression has gone quiet.

“Glen?” you ask softly, studying him. You can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his arm around you has stiffened just a bit. “Is something wrong?”

He blinks, glancing up at you with a sheepish, almost-too-casual smile. “Hmm? No, no, I’m good,” he says, brushing it off with a chuckle. But there’s a hint of something else in his tone, a little edge of restraint.

You tilt your head, giving him a look that says you’re not buying it for a second. “Okay, try that again. Because I know you, babe. Something’s definitely up.”

He tries to wave it away, running a hand through his hair, but he can’t fully hide the reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s really not a big deal. I just, uh…” He lets out a breath, finally looking back down at you. “I guess I just hate the idea of missing out on things with you. I was the one who planned that night, you know? And here I am, getting scooped up to New York, and then someone else gets to be there with you instead.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and you give him a reassuring squeeze, your fingers brushing gently over his ribs. 

“So you’re saying you’re jealous,” you tease, your voice light, though your heart aches a little for him.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes like the very idea is absurd. “Jealous? Of what? That you spent a night quoting some dinosaur movie with Joe? Hardly.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile as you reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.  “Uh-huh. So, no jealousy at all?” you press gently, catching his gaze and not letting him squirm away this time. 

He shifts under your gaze, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. 

“Maybe just a little,” he admits, reluctantly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Not in a jealous-jealous way. I trust you, and you know Joe and I get along great. I just… I don’t know. It feels weird when someone else gets that time with you, especially when I want to be the one there with you.”

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” you murmur, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He groans playfully, rolling his eyes even as his smile betrays him. 

“Oh, stop it. I am not cute right now,” he insists, though his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer.

But you shake your head, grinning up at him. 

“Nope, you are. And anyway, it’s not the same without you,” you say, laying your head back on his chest. “I had fun, but trust me, I’d take a cozy movie night with you any day over some big theater experience with anyone else.”

His expression softens, and he shifts his hand up to brush his fingers through your hair. 

“You mean that?” he asks, his voice carrying a vulnerable edge you don’t often hear.

You nod, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here with you. How about we make up for it and watch Jurassic Park together?”

His face lights up, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, letting it linger. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, his earlier hesitation melting away. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, though the grin tugging at his mouth tells you he’s already in.

“Positive. Besides,” you say, snuggling closer to him, “I’m counting on you to give me the full experience, T-Rex roars and all.”

With a chuckle, he reaches for the remote and turns on the movie. His hand returns to your arm, gently running his fingers along it again as the opening credits start to play. 

He presses another kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “Best movie night ever.”

And as the familiar music fills the room, you can feel the last of his tension ease away, leaving just the two of you, tangled up and exactly where you want to be.

[13as07]

Crows Breed In The Spring #1

(Shisui Uchahi Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Keji. They’re here on Tumblr; Please check them out!]

Requested by: @chamchamshisui (More or less)

Word Count: 4,086

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick-Name(s): Little/Dove, Sir, Goddess

Exhibitionism

Titty Fondling

Fingering

Choking

Nudity

Slight Degrading

Prey/Predator Kink

Arranged Marriage

Plans for Part #2

———————————————————————

Shisui’s eyes trail on me as my eyes trail on the branches above us. The trees are slowly blooming, greens, pinks, and soft reds all melting into a nature-made painting. Spring is my favorite season, both for the nature and for the clan. The world is always painted so beautifully, whereas the clan is always filled with the promise of the future generation.

I mentioned it to one of the elders, once, how it seems that the clan is always buzzing with pregnancies and young couples wishing for children during the spring months. I got a lecture from both the elder and my parents for mentioning such a thing, in front of the Clan Council nonetheless. Despite the lectures I got, something the Chief said has always stuck with me.

Crows breed in the spring.

Looking back at the interaction, it was a strange thing for him to say, especially right before Shisui proposed. Given, the proposal came as a surprise. After all, we’ve been betrothed since birth so a formal proposal was never expected but he insisted on doing it anyway, insisted he wanted things to be as ‘normal’ as he could make them for me. Still, I can’t make myself believe that the Chief didn’t know it was happening, let alone when. Though, he’s always been a bit of an off person. Saying weird things at weird times.

Our wedding is coming up, in twelve months, down exactly to the day. I’m lucky when it comes to my arranged marriage, especially to who I’ve been arranged to spend my life with. Shisui is a good man, both at home and in society. He’s a high-ranked, and even higher achieved, shinobi, praised by both the Clan and the Village for his achievements and abilities. A distinguished Anbu, one of the youngest and most skilled of our generation. Of the past few generations.

Despite all that, he’s still a humble man, a kind man, a loving man. All of which has been proven once again today. With our wedding date being exactly a year away, Shisui requested today off, speaking to the Chief and Hokage personally to ensure he could spend the day with me. I’m just as giddy now as I was when he told me the news two weeks ago. My heart skips just thinking of the event and what my future husband said to me.

Don’t worry about a thing, Dove, I’ve taken care of all of it.

It’ll be a whole day of just me and you. Nothing and no one to take my attention away from you.

I assure you that the day will be spent with me showing you the future I promise to give you.

“Your cheeks are blushed again,” Shisui comments, leaning closer to whisper the sentence into my ear, acting as if it will disturb the Spring blooms. I tilt my head, escaping the tease of his lips against my ear that causes my cheeks to darken, this time in embarrassment instead of admiration. “Don’t run from me, Little Dove,” He giggles, tilting his head too, chasing after me as I try to flee. “Tell me what’s on that colorful mind of yours.”

“You,” I answer instantly, even more embarrassed by the confession and eagerness in my voice.

Shishui’s laugh tickles my skin, the soft sound wrapping around my heart and warming it from the outside in. “What a coincidence,” he murmurs, sliding a hand onto my hip. He softly pulls on me, positioning me against his body. Our hips are fleshed against each other, and the rough existence of his knife slid into its hilt, hidden under the band of his pants, separating a section of our connection. “I’m thinking about you too.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed” He murmurs, his fingertips slow and steady as they slide off my hip. They trail upward, happily disregarding my shirt, slipping underneath it to caress the bare skin of my side. “We have some time before we’re expected to meet our families for dinner.”

“Oh,” I exhale, repeating my earlier reply. My heart feels quick in my chest, beating quicker the harder it gets to underplay Shisui’s touches. His fingers feel warm against my side, sending electric tingles across my skin. His lips have made residence against the side of my head, their warmth making the tips of my ears feel like flames. “What should we do with that time?”

“I can think of a... ah, thing, or two.” His words, paired with the continued climbing of his fingers, his touch carefully tracing one, two, three of my ribs, sends my senses ablaze. “Would you like to know what those things might be?” Shisui asks, fingers curling to wrap under the band of my bra. His knuckles slide back and forth, barely moving an inch in either direction as he waits for my answer.

My jaw falls open, lips twitching to form an answer, a word, even a sound would suffice. When nothing comes, I simply nod my head, yes, to answer my waiting husband.

His hip pushes against mine, gently leading me off the dusty trail that twirls through the acres of blooming trees on the outskirts of the Clan’s territory. “First, we should wander off the path. Wonder deep into the trees, let the flowers hide us from the world. Let the glow of the blooms highlight the beauty of my future wife.” My jaw clicks closed, my eyes widening as I hang onto every word spilling from Shisui.

The heat of his eyes pulls off of me, instantly skirting over the area in front of us, his shinobi ways bleeding through whenever and wherever possible. Still, his focus stays with me. With the eyes of any passer-byer or another couple enjoying the blooms being gone, Shushi has no shame. His hand jerks upward, a strong hand cupping my boob for a second before it starts toying with me. His hand squeezes my flesh, his fingers molding around my breast as his hip continues to gently push me forward.

“Once we’re safely tucked away, truly left alone, with nothing but the trees to see us, I’m going to lay my beautiful wife down on the fallen flower petals. I’m going to lay with her, sucking in the scent and taste of the beautiful pheromones that have been dancing off her skin the past few days.”

My mind feels like it has short-circuited. My thoughts are gummy, jumbled, and messy from arousal and the sweetness of Shisui’s affection. Embarrassment and worry swirl around my thoughts as well. I know that he has an idea of my menstrual circle; the chocolates at just the right times throughout the month, his willingness to give more than he receives when I’m my neediest, the extra attention when my emotions are in a reck, but it never crossed my mind that he had a strong hold on the bio-clock that is my body.

Can he truly tell what phase of my cycle I’m on? He can’t seriously smell my pheromones, can he? I know it’s rumored that us Uchiha’s take after crows a little too much. With age, I’ve even heard rumors that our population jumps every spring, just like crows, because we’ve picked up their breeding habits, but that’s all it is. Rumors. It’s normal that my sex drive jumps in tune with my bodily clock, but does Shisui’s truly jump every spring?

“Now what’s on that colorful mind?” My betrothed asks, gently pulling me from the string of unanswerable questions. His lips brush behind my ear, paired with a soft inhale before his kiss falls downward.

“Can you really smell my pheromones?” I whisper, letting my head tip when his kisses start trailing down my neck.

“Mhm,” he hums, taking another deep breath before sliding his tongue across the skin of my throat. “It’s faint, but there. The sensitivity of your skin and heightened reactions to my touch give you away a bit more though. Still, I can’t help but crave you, knowing how much you’re craving me.” Shusui stops moving, pulling his hand from my chest and his lips from my neck. I can’t help feeling like I slammed into a brick wall, my skin suddenly chilly without his touch, and irritation bubbling in my stomach. “Is there anything else tickling that mind of yours?”

“No. Well... yes, but it’s stupid,” I grumble, my unfounded anger growing the longer Shisui stays parted from me. My eyes trail after him, carefully watching as he scopes out the area. Can’t he throw caution to the wind just once? I’m supposed to have his full attention, but instead, he’s checking the branches for the boogie man.

“No question is a stupid question.”

I think over it for a moment, my unhappiness and the teasing given to me mixing in my stomach. “Do you think we have a breeding season?”

“Of course, Dove,” Shisui answers, finally making his way back to me. His hands land on my hips, massaging them for a second before nudging my shirt up to hook his fingertips under the band of my pants. “There are hundreds of scientific articles linking the sexual activities of our clan with our counterparts, our crows. It’s not even that far-fetched. Just look at the Inuzuka Clan. The Aburame. The Sarutobi. They all exhibit traits of their animalistic counterparts, repopulation timing included.”

I barely hear any of his rambling, my mind – and hormones – swirling with the feeling of Shisui’s fingers, the teasing of them sliding back and forth against my hips, the mundane but incredibly hot knowledge that he refused to wait until I was bare to feel the sensation of my skin against his rough hands.

Silence falls between us, the forest so quiet that I swear I can hear the electricity burning between our locked eyes. My stomach flips when Shisui slides one of his hands further along my waistband, his fingertips ghosting over the front of my panties. Tingles erupt through my body, making the space between my thighs their own base. It feels like minutes tick by as he slides his hand further into my pants, minutes that are truly only seconds.

Crimson melts into my future husband’s eyes. Crimson, that swarms the darkness of Shisui’s iris. Crimson, that is quickly dotted with three perfect tomoes. Crimson, that soon trades his tomoes for the pinwheeled design of his advanced sharingan. I drown in the color, letting it seep into every ounce of me. Letting the color dance alongside the feeling of Shisui’s fingers sliding back and forth over my pussy that’s angry with the fact that it’s still clothed and hidden from the attention it wants.

“You’re not breathing.”

“What?” I ask, the exhale I release seeming to also release the scream of my lungs I’ve been neglecting.

Shisui chuckles at my lugging, fingertip pressing against my clenching hole as he leans closer to me. His lips easily find mine, gracing me with the millionth kiss of the day. Still, the kiss is a bit rough, proof of his habit of biting them present in the flesh. I eagerly wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to me. The simple act pulls more laughter from him, laughter that I suck into my lungs as I deep our kiss.

My tongue slides out, needlingly poking at my boyfriend’s lips. Shisui parts his lips for me, letting my tongue slide in and explore his mouth. I’m given free rein of our kisses, leading the dance our lips are partaking in. In exchange, he gets free rein of my body.

A hand snakes up my side, racing the path up my hip, under my shirt, and crawling under my bra. Shisui’s hand is rougher this time as he grips my boob, squeezing it until my breath goes jagged in an attempt to mellow the ache forming across my skin. My pain doesn’t go without pleasure though. The hand toying with my wetting panties slowly crawls under the material, his fingertips sliding through my folds to collect my wetness.

I back off for a second, breaking for our kisses to suck in a needed breath. A labored breath, trying to balance the pleasure teasing my pussy, the pain webbing from Shisui’s grasp on my chest, and the ting of fear that’s always flickering when his sharingan is activated.

“Dove?”

“Ye-”

My answer is cut off by a sharp inhale, slammed from my lungs when Shisui thrusts two of his fingers into me. My hands slip from his neck, gripping his shoulders with my nails digging into the dark material of his shirt.

“You’re going to be good for your husband and strip, yeah? You’re going to strip and lay your pretty self out on the blossom petals for me, yes?” His fingers move just as slowly and even as his voice. Steady, strong, dependable, but not fast enough.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, tightening my hold on him, hoping he’ll move his fingers even a bit faster.

“There’s a good Little Dove,” He coos, giving me the opposite of what I want. Shisui pulls his touch off of me, squeezing my breast once more before breaking contact. His eyes swirl in amusement as he drinks in my disappointment, a laugh brewing in his chest, I’m sure. “Strip,” he reminds me of my command, taking a step back as he slips his fingers into his mouth.

It feels like my stomach gushes at the sound of Shisui sucking my juices off himself. Instantly, my hands jerk, taking a grip of my shirt to rip it up and over my head. My movements get messier, wanting to rid myself of all my clothing if it means he’ll touch me again, touch me sooner. My clothes are dropped to the floor, forgotten as soon as I free them from my body.

“Good job,” he coos again, eyes still rubbing my skin raw. “Lay down. Look at the flowers.”

My knees buckle, bending to let gravity push me to the forest floor. It feels like my body moves on its own, positioning myself to lie on the ground like ordered. The soft petals fallen from the trees above rub against my skin, their scent feeling my nose, and their soft colors exploding in my eyes. The petals aren’t the only thing that catches my eye. Buried in the branches are two patches of black, sticking out against the colorful ceiling of the trees.

Crows breed in the spring.

It’s probably a couple of crows, hanging around and planning the same thing I have in mind.

My sense of hearing isn’t left bored either, picking up on every sound, every sound except the sound of Shisui. That’s not surprising though. A loud ninja isn’t a good ninja.

“Dove?”

“Shisui?”

He falls silent again, my senses on high alert, edged from the forest, edged from being so exposed, edged from not knowing where my lover is.

Minutes tick by, filled with thoughts, with ‘what if’s, filled with worry. Just as my body relaxes, my mind grows silent and focuses on the branches swaying, on the petals slowly falling, my thigh is gripped.

“Shisui!” I shriek, jerking into a seat position.

“Dove,” He chuckles, the familiar sight of his sharingan filling my sight and smoothing out the fear threaded through my chest. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I jerk my head away, staring deeper into the forest as I huff, my anger with him bubbling into my actions. “Oh, don’t be mad at me,” Shuishi murmurs, dotting my cheek in kisses. “I couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous you looked. Bare and laid out just for me, framed by the cherry blossoms. After all, I see everything so much better than most. I didn’t mean to scare you, my Little Dove.”

Slowly, I let my anger leak out of my veins, leaning into his soft kisses and letting my muscles loosen under his touch. “You’re mean,” I grumble, slowly turning to face him again.

A loose smile hangs on his lips, enjoyment, and amusement mixing with the crimson of his eyes. “I’m mean?”

“Yes.”

“I took time off to celebrate our future marriage. I planned our outing, our walk through the woods, our dinner with our families, and you think I’m mean?”

“I know you’re mean,” I shoot back, shaking my head back and forth in a matter-of-fact fashion.

The laughter that seeps from Shisui ends the trumpet feeling from my comeback. The sound is darker than usual, laying heavy in the air instead of flowing freely with the soft wind that’s been present throughout the day. “Fine, I’ll be mean then,” he purrs, giving enough time for my heart to skip before his hand is wrapped around my throat, using his grip to push me flat to the ground again.

I shriek when my back hits the ground, a sharp smile ripping across my face from the fear and excitement braiding together. After all, what’s the point of having a scary anbu as a boyfriend – and future husband – without a little bit of fucked up playtime?

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Shisui lectures, clicking his tongue at my excitement. His body crushes me into the ground, keeping me pinned against the petals decorating the forest. His thumb rubs against the side of my throat, his other fingers digging into my flesh to control my oxygen intake. “What would our Clan think? Calling one of their pride and joys mean? What would your parents think of you right now? Stripped naked, laid out on the ground, so eager to do everything you’re told.”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I shoot back, my voice pitched from the grip around my throat. “Just like everyone keeps telling me to do.”

The dark laugh is back, echoing among the trees. “Oh, is that so? I didn’t know being a good wife included getting fingered in the woods. Since when did it include stripping bare among the branches? Which housewife taught you that being choked by your husband is a part of sex? Which gossiper told you a good wife gets wet when their husband makes fear flutter in their chest?”

“Your mom, mostly.”

Shisui’s eyes flicker, excitement appearing before quickly being replaced by his fake hardness. “Little Dove,” he exhales, leaning down so he can peck my lips between each of his words. “A good wife watches her temper and most defiantly does not speak of their mother-in-law in such a way.” He pulls away, leaving a very unwanted gap between our lips. “I think you just need some of my attention. Is that what you need, Dove? Do you need some of my attention to get your attitude straight? Should we play?”

A weight drops in my stomach, a new wave of fear swirling in my stomach. My butt already stings, the memories of our last game whirling through my head. The last time Shisui and I played, really played instead of the quick sessions between his missions, I was left with a two-day long hand print and a limp the next morning. Simon Says is not my strong suit.

“Let’s play...” My heart skips as I wait for Shisui’s choice, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t pick Simon Says. “Tag.” I take it back; I’ll very willingly play Simon Says. “I’m it first.”

He releases me, crawling off of me and climbing to his feet. My eyes trail after him, watching Shisui wipe his clothing clean before he turns and walks away from me. My heart skips and my stomach flips as he leans his arm against the tree across from my spot, his head tucked into his elbow.

“One hundred.”

My mind runs a million a minute, every other thought about how unfair this game is. Shisui is a shinobi, a highly trained shinobi, an active duty anbu. The only thing I’m trained in is the things he likes and what makes a good housewife.

“Ninety-nine.”

I’m so going to lose. What’s he going to do when he tags me? What’s he not going to do when he tags me? My thighs rub together as my eyes skirt down his back, cursing his shirt for hiding away his shoulders. I’m so screwed.

“Ninety-eight.”

The numbers finally click in my head. Shisui is giving me a head start, one hundred seconds to run for my life before he chases after me. Three of which I’ve wasted. Once the thought is settled in my mind, I’m up on my feet, quickly glancing around before deciding on a direction. I can’t go forward, that means I’d have to pass him. I can’t go backward, I’ll stumble onto the trail. I choose to go right, jerking my body into motion once the decision is made.

Oxygen is pulled into my lungs as I race away from my boyfriend, trying to get as much distance between us as possible. It doesn’t take long for my body to scream. My lungs are angry from ove working. My legs are angry from the speed I’m forcing them into. My skin is upset at the sharp branches scrapping against it.

My thoughts run right alongside my feet. Every sound makes my heart beat faster, worried Shisui already found me. Theories of what he’s going to do make my nerves bounce with even more excitement and even more fear. Is he going to fuck me? Pressed against a tree or in the grass? Is he going to tease me? Leave me on edge before making me go to dinner, using my irritation and need as a reward for his win? I wonder if he’ll -

“Litte Dove?” Shisui’s chilled voice laces between the trees, making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. My heart stops at the call for me, my feet freezing, following suit. I stay, stuck in place like a deer that heard the steps of a hunter. Fear trickles from my heart, straight to my arousal like a melting icicle, set on overflowing the pot under it as the spring air warms it. “I’ve decided on my award for winning, are you ready to hear it?”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest, the reminder I need to get my feet moving again. My body jerks, my feet sliding for a moment before shifting back into a run. I don’t know what direction I’m going in. I don’t know which direction I came from. Most importantly, I don’t know where Shisui is. All I do know is that the break from whipping leaves and hard branches has made my skin angrier.

My mind is so torn, focused on not tripping and trying to look for signs of my hunter that I don’t catch the forest line until it smacks me in the face. The brightness, brought by the sun and the gap in the trees, colors the path, burning my eyes that have adjusted to the darkness of the forest. Fear of being caught by someone from the village, or even worse, someone I know, makes me freeze, my steps stalling once again.

Oxygen pumps into my lungs as I soak in the silence, keeping myself hidden in the shadows of the forest edge. Should I turn around or should I run along the forest edge -

“You’re it, Dove.” Shisui strikes before I can shriek, a hand wrapped around my mouth as the other one wraps around my eyes, cutting off my view of the sun just five steps away. “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would,” he softly praises, his knee pushing against the back of mine until it buckles, gravity pushing me to the ground once again. His breath is heavy in my ear as he feathers my fall to the floor, tickling my pride a bit. I made an anbu winded from our little game of tag.

Slowly, the hand around my eyes slips upward, Shisui’s gentle fingertips brushing through my hair and picking out the leaves it picked up during the chase. My head is gently pulled backward as he plays with my hair, my eyes scanning the branches above us. “Your pretty smell, and all your questions, the sight of you looking like a Goddess on the forest floor, and our little game has me so worked up, Dove. So, I’ve decided we’re going to partake in this year’s breeding season.”

Crows breed during the spring,

And I am a crow.

———————————————————————

[abbysbodybag]

Campus Secrets

abby anderson x reader

(first post as well) COLLEGE AU

description : you and abby are paired together as college roommates / FLUFF

part two? 🔞

Your bag is heavy, but the excitement of finally being on your own keeps your steps light as you make your way to your new dorm room. You reach the door, room 402, and take a deep breath before turning the handle, preparing to meet the stranger you’ll be living with for the next year.

But as you walk in, you’re met by the sight of a tall, muscular woman pulling a shirt over her head, revealing toned arms and a faint smile as she catches your wide-eyed look.

“Hey, you must be my roommate.” She grins, hand outstretched. “I’m Abby.”

For a second, you forget what words are, she’s gorgeous. Her blonde braid rests over one shoulder, her smile a bit too flashy and charming, and the way she’s looking at you is already making your cheeks heat up.

You clear your throat, setting your bag down to shake her hand. “Y/N,” you manage to say. Her hand is warm and firm, and it’s hard not to notice how she looks at you, a bit too knowingly, like she’s already read every flustered thought in your mind.

“So,” Abby says, crossing her arms and leaning against the bed, “you’re okay with bunk beds, right? Or should we just flip a coin and see who gets the top?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “I mean, unless you’re scared of heights,” you tease.

She laughs, her eyes lighting up. “Scared of heights? Not exactly. I think I’ll be fine as long as my pretty new roommate doesn’t snore.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Pretty bold assumption, considering we just met.”

Abby tilts her head, her grin widening as her gaze drops to your bags. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough, huh?”

You feel your pulse race as you realize how close she’s standing. “Yeah, guess we will.”

The rest of the afternoon goes by with a surprising ease, the two of you unpacking, sharing stories about hometowns, and trading jokes. Each time her shoulder brushes yours or she throws you a sly smile, you feel that blush creeping back. It’s almost too comfortable.

Later, as the sun sets, she stretches, yawning. “You up for grabbing a coffee? You know, to celebrate surviving move-in day?”

You nod, grabbing your keys. “ready when you are.”

As you walk through campus together, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this year with Abby might be a lot more interesting than you’d expected.

The coffee shop is buzzing with the usual college crowd, but with Abby by your side, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world. You grab a cozy corner table, and as she stirs sugar into her coffee, you catch her glancing at you, one brow raised.

“So, Y/N,” she says, leaning forward with that same mischievous glint in her eyes, “what’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?”

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink to buy a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe this.” You hold her gaze and casually reach over to steal a sugar packet from her side of the table.

Abby laughs, a deep, genuine sound that draws a few curious looks from nearby tables. “Oh, risky. I better watch out for you, huh?”

“Hey, don’t judge me. I’m new here. Maybe I just haven’t had the chance to get into trouble yet,” you shoot back.

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “Well, I’m sure we can fix that. I’ve been here a year already. Got all the shortcuts, best spots, even know where to sneak into the field house after hours.”

“After hours?” you echo, eyes widening. “Are you always this much of a rule-breaker?”

Abby shrugs, looking unbothered, but there’s a flicker of excitement in her eyes. “Life’s too short to follow all the rules, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, trying to mask the way her confidence makes your heart beat a little faster. “Big words from someone who looks like they were probably on the varsity team in high school.”

“Guilty,” she admits, smirking. “I played soccer. What about you? Any sports?”

You laugh. “I don’t think binge-watching counts as a sport.”

“Not officially, but I’m sure you’d make it competitive,” she says, grinning. “How about this—since you’re new and all, I’ll show you around campus tomorrow. A private tour, Abby-style.”

“A private tour, huh?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to sound casual as your stomach does a little flip.

She leans back, that playful spark still in her gaze. “Yeah. The kind where we hit all the best spots… and maybe skip a few of the official ones.”

You try not to smile too wide. “Guess I can’t turn down a tour from someone who knows all the secrets.”

“Smart choice.” Abby reaches across the table, tapping your hand. “Prepare yourself, Y/N. I’m about to make this the best college experience you could imagine.”

She smiles at you with a sparkle behind her eye. You couldn’t help but notice the fidgeting she does with her hands when she speaks to you, and how It stops whenever you look down.

[nomorethoughts]

HAIII i voted smile :))))

could i please please please ask for redstone snap + grian? underrated ot3 honestly 🥺🥺

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS HELLO! thank you for voting mumscott, here's a little something for your ot3!

i decided to go with a modern au (not RPF)! oh and i just want to note a cw for a mild innuendo if that's something you want to avoid ^-^

★

Scott leans against one side of Mumbo, while Grian leans up against the other. It’s a tight squeeze for three people under one umbrella, but they make it work to remain sheltered from the rain on the sidewalk.

A car rushes by, sloshing water up onto the sidewalk, and Mumbo shudders as he takes a step back. His partners, glued to his respective sides, follow suit.

“Listen, I can do cold, and snow, and even wind in the winter, but this is just gross,” Grian complains.

“Thank God you’re prepared, Mumbo,” Scott says. “We’d have just been waiting out here freezing our asses off without you.”

“I’m still freezing, Scott!” Grian insists, and at that, Scott laughs.

“Did I not tell you both to bring jackets?” Mumbo teases.

“Yep, and we both forgot,” Scott admits innocently.

Mumbo sighs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. How do you both forget coats in the winter?”

“Like I said,” says Grian, “it’s the rain that’s the problem. I’d be perfectly fine if it wasn’t raining.”

“Okay, look,” says Mumbo. “This sucks, okay? Let’s… I don’t know, just pass the time. What’s the first thing you want to do when we get back to the flat?”

“Get out of these clothes,” Scott answers immediately, and Mumbo shoots him a look. He laughs, waving him off with one hand. “Not like that, I’m just soaked and cold! Although now that you mention it, it would be great if–”

“Grian, what about you?” Mumbo interrupts, blushing a little as he smiles at his other partner.

“What Scott said,” Grian agrees.

“Which part?”

“Yes.”

Mumbo laughs and shakes his head. “No, come up with something new too.”

Grian hums thoughtfully for a moment. “Tea,” he then decides. “I want to make each of us a cup of tea.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Scott agrees. “I picked up a new blend yesterday, did you want to try that?”

“Oh, I forgot about that!” says Grian. “That sounds so lovely.”

Scott looks over at Mumbo. “Your turn,” he says, nudging him lightly, “first thing you want to do?”

“Shower,” Mumbo says decisively. “Definitely a hot shower.” His partners hum and nod in agreement.

A minute later, the bus is making its turn around the corner, pulling up to the curb. Mumbo reluctantly closes his umbrella, leaving the three of them momentarily exposed to the elements, but it isn’t long before the doors fold open, and the three of them board. The warm, dry atmosphere is welcome as they take their seats headed for home.

It would seem that they found a way to pass the time after all.

@scottsmajorshipbracket

[admirationandromantics]

Gettogether

Chris Hartley x reader!

An idea that came to mind. The day before the disappearance of Hannah and Beth. You and Chris have a thing for one another, and it escalates. The original idea was putting eyeliner on him, and I had so much fun writing it!!

PS! Involves drinking and sexual themes (18++)

Word count: 1,7 k (Unedited!)

Everyone is laughing while sitting in the uneven circle. Emily and Jess went to the kitchen a while ago and are still gone. Jess was the first to stand up, a mischievous look plastered on her face. Her excuse was mixing a new drink, and she forcibly dragged Emily with her while laughing. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it must be good since I occasionally hear loud snickers coming from them. 

While the others talk I glance over at Chris. He’s sitting at the other side. Not on the sofa, but below it, using it only as back support. In his hand is his fifth beer. At least not less than that. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, which suits him perfectly, curving at the best angles. Suddenly he brings his eyes up, meeting mine. A bit of blush covers him, but I’m probably just seeing things. Shit. I look away quickly, not feeling the heat on my cheeks. I do know it's there though. Luckily, the dim light and alcohol makes it almost impossible to see, I hope. In the corner of my eyes I see Josh whisper something to him, and they both look at me. I need some air, or at least a reason to get out a little. The storm outside is not slowing down, and is said to be even stronger tomorrow, so I wouldn’t dare to actually go outside. For now, I’m keeping calm. I should just try to join the conversation. 

Mike is talking about his latest occurrence at the gym. He was apparently hit on by a girl, and it was quite an ordeal. While he’s talking I notice long stares shifting between Sam and Josh. I automatically smile and signal to Ashley and Beth to look. They notice and then both look at each other. We have to do something. Before I get an idea, Hannah turns beside me, looking strongly at my face. I stiffen, and give her a look. 

“Everything okay Hannah?”

She loosens up, laughs a little. 

“Yeah yeah, sorry”.

She shifts before moving her hand up to her own face. 

“Your mascara is a bit smudged, want me to fix it for you?” 

Oh. I haven’t touched up my makeup since I put it on in the morning. I thank her, but tell her how it probably all needs to be fixed, so I would do it quickly in the bathroom. 

“Let me know if you need anything”.

“Thanks Han!” I shout while walking up the stairs. 

I hear whispers behind me, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Instead of trying, I quickly get my make-up bag from my room and go to the bathroom. My mascara is not a bit smudged. It’s very smudged. How didn’t I notice before? I clean it up before deciding to redo both my eyeliner and mascara. The highlighter is still going strong and I have a hint of the eyeshadow present. I will only take three minutes max. 

Right before completion, Chris burst into the room. I give a screech before covering my mouth. 

“Gosh I’m incredibly sorry” he says with hands covering his eyes. My heart rate slows and I give a giggle before walking over to him and pulling his hands down. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted some company?” 

“No other reason for coming here?” I ask while walking back to the mirror. 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe” he mumbles. I can’t make out the rest as he sits down on the chair beside me. I complete the last part of my makeup before looking down at him. 

“You’re really good at that” he says while pointing up at the mascara wand. 

“Do you know what this is?”

A long silence falls, and before I can tease him, he says it’s for the eyes. I smile at him while he’s sitting there, very proud. 

“Do you want some?” I ask, taking out my eyeliner pencil from the bag. 

“Me? Absolutely not, I’m not putting that junk on my face”

My eyes narrow a bit, and he quickly follows up. 

“But you look great though, beautiful, hot, sexy everything you know, just…” 

As I get closer, he gets up from the stool and backs away. 

“Hey hey, I told you I didn’t want any of that”

I get in front of the door, locking it. 

“You didn’t just do that”

“I believe I did”

“You’re gonna pay if you put that thing on me”

“Oh please” I plead. “Just a little on the undereye, you would look dazzling”. 

“Nope, not a chance”. I think about the rest of the night, trying to remember something that I can use. I know. 

“Think of it as a form of payback for scaring the shit out of me when you walked in.”

He smirks. “Payback?” 

“And you thought I was naked for a second as well” I hurriedly add. 

“Damn you, fine. But only this time”. 

Chris is a funny and smart man, but thank goodness he also has integrity. I take his arm and lead him down to the floor. I have to release him as soon as he gets where he’s meant to be. I can’t help thinking about what’s under his clothing. He’s strong, I know he is. 

With his back against the bathtub, I carefully sit down on his lap. His breath stops for a moment, and I quickly lift myself up from him again. My own breath holds, and I look away. Boundaries, I seem to forget sometimes that we’re just friends. 

“Sorry, it’s just easier this way, we can do it some other way if you want.” As I turn around I feel his hand grabbing mine, dragging me down on him again. Both his hands are placed on either side of my hips. 

“No it’s fine, really. I was just surprised.” His grip is firm, and I can feel my face heat up once again. He takes my expression as a sign to drag me closer to him. Chest to chest. My breath is uneven, and I notice a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“So, are we gonna do it?” he asks. I’m stumped. 

“Wait what?”

“With that scary sharp thing you’re going to put in my eye”. His comment takes me out of my trance, and I give a genuine smile. 

“It’s not going inside your eye, just under it” I laugh, and he looks down. He shares my laugh before quickly taking hold of my waist, getting my face closer to his. His breath is on my chin. I’ve never felt as hot as I do now, like I’m steaming. He looks down at my lips before returning to my eyes. Then, in a swift motion, I meet his lips. My arms automatically go over his shoulders and in his hair, whilst his take all over my back, pressing me even closer if that’s possible. The kiss is warm and wet, and it doesn’t stop. I barely get any small breaks for breathing, making my head go a bit dizzy. I feel euphoric, and I can’t believe it’s actually happening. In the small breaks, he manages to make out a few words. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this”. I mumble a little ‘me too’ back, as I feel his fingers on my skin, under my shirt. 

“Fuck” I mumble, getting even hotter. How am I suppose to take this? And on the bathroom floor? 

“Chris?”

“Mhmm?”

“Where is all this confidence coming from?”

“Pent up energy”

He starts kissing my neck, moving down to my collarbone. 

“And some drinks of bravery”

“Got it”

He finds my spot, making me moan out his name. As we’re going on, I suddenly hear faint voices. 

“I told you it would work”

“I’m the perfect matchmaker”

I pull away. Chris looks confused, breathless, and needy, looking up at me with pleading eyes. 

“Wha-” I stop him with my hand. I know who it is. Tucking down my shirt, I quickly open the door and catch Josh and Hannah with their ears against the wall. I cough. Loudly. They both turn at the same time with completely different reactions. Hannah slowly backs away before running down the stairs, while Josh faces me with a smirk. 

“I told you he liked you, but you didn’t believe me,” he says. I give him a confused glare in return. 

“You know, I’m the reason this happened, I’m the perfect matchmaker.” he looks through the door, winking at Chris, who rolls his eyes. 

“I just had to make sure something happened, and knowing how skittish you are made it a perfect bonding moment”

“Josh, what the h-”

He interrupts, “But at the same time, if something were to happen, it can’t happen in there. We got people who want to use the bathroom tonight”. 

I can’t do anything but nod. The mood is ruined anyway. Chris appears behind me, one hand used for leaning against the door. 

“Dude, we had like, a moment”

“Yeah bro, and I’m sorry about that, but just do it somewhere else” he winks before walking away, joining the others. I then feel a hand going up my side, turning me around. I look up at him, and his perfect sweet face. 

“We should probably talk about this before we do anything.” he whispers. I nod in agreement. 

“Though, we’ve both been drinking, so this isn’t the time” I add. He smiles down at me, taking my face in his palms before lifting my chin. 

“What about tomorrow?”

“That sounds good” I turn around to join the others while taking his hand with me. I’m stopped by him and dragged into his embrace. 

“But, we could also just go to my room” he whispers against my ear. I think about it. I truly want to, but Josh kind of ruined it. 

“Isn’t the mood kinda low right now?” 

“Let me show you how good I am at picking up the mood then” he says, tracing a finger down my neck. Fuck he’s good. I grab ahold of his hand, dragging him with me. 

“Wait wait, that’s all it took?” he asks, clearly confused. 

“Yep” I reply. “Especially when you look like that and talk in such a manner”

“I had a whole thing planned, like, you know, stuff and things like that”. 

“Use them next time” 

“Will that be later tonight?”

“Of course”. As we’ve agreed he locks the door and turns around. Before I know it, I’m slammed against the bed, him immediately going on top and kissing me.

“I could do this all night” I say between kisses. 

“Good, cause we’re gonna”

[little-pondhead]

I am physically holding myself back from going into great detail about these outfits.

Here’s some shitty close-ups.

[metalcorebarbie]

it’s my birthday tomorrow, i have no plans and instead of panicking about that i feel okay, which is suspicious and i’m waiting for that ”i feel weird and kind of bad on my birthday” feeling i usually get.

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. ���Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[rebelscums]

Little Flower (Qimir x Padawan reader)

Rating: Fluff | Kissing | Light grinding | A pillow is thrown

Summary: You are the padawan to a masked man you had no name of. You have been by his side for years, training and mastering the arts of what he refers to as the dark side of the force. However, with Mae entering your life as his new favorite, you are beginning to question whether you belong there anymore. Something that you run to your closet fiend to talk about. Who knew confessing to Qimir about your trouble would bring a life changing moment.

“I’m not strong enough for him.” That was the first thing you said to Qirmir as you entered his shop. Borrowed shop? You didn’t care.

The defeat in your tone was enough to alert him of your dismay.

“That’s it. I’m officially useless to him. He doesn’t need me.” You blurted out all of your frustrations to the only person you have ever been able to call a friend, “All he cares about is his new acolyte Mae.”

You were both stationed here with Mae as she completed the next part of her trial which was to kill Master Torbin… Without a weapon.

“What makes you say that?” Qimir popped his head up from behind his counter.

“He’s been making me run these needless errands lately that literally anyone else in the galaxy can do.” You set a bag of powdered gold leaves onto the counter, “This took me an entire day to find and when I go back to the spot I left him, he was gone! Gone! Didn’t tell me where either.” You said frustratingly, “So I figured you might know what to do with this.”

Qimir took the bag and peered inside, a please look on his face as he hummed, “Actually I do. It’s the leaves I need to make a poison Mae requested.”

“Of course it is.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of her name.

Mae seemed to be taking the eyes of your master and Qimir lately. Something that made your eyes turn green with the overpowering feeling of jealousy… Of being abandoned.

“Look, I love Mae and she has become very dear to me, but… I was here first.” You felt like a child for saying that, “I know that sounds selfish, but it feels like he just tossed me aside for a better version.” You looked up at Qimir showing him the hurt and betrayal in your eyes before looking away to try and suppress your feelings, “And maybe… Maybe she is better than me… Maybe I should just take my loss and go.” You spoke in a near whisper, your throat tightening at the thought.

“No!” The way he quickly voiced his answer had you looking up at him waiting for him to continue, “You are strong with the force and an extremely skilled assassin.” He shook his head, “You don’t have to leave.”

You sighed and moved past him and the counter, “But what if he wants me to leave Qi? You don’t understand. It’s like he doesn’t even see me or the power I possess. All he ever says to me is that I’m not ready to become his acolyte and that I need to help Mae ascend yet…” You slumped into the cot that he called a bed with a huff, “I’m older than she is! I’ve been with him longer might I add. I’ve never questioned him, I’ve followed him loyally and this is what I am granted with? To be a baby sitter?”

“One useful skill may come out of that job.” He noted and you missed the blush in his face at whatever he was thinking about…

“And what might that be?” You muttered tiredly as you stared up at the ceiling contemplating your life and how you could just be better.

“You would make a good mother?” Qimir shrugged his shoulders as he tried to had the small smirk on his lips.

You launched one of the pillows on the bed the moment those words left his mouth. It was going straight for his head to which he surprisingly dodged with ease, but that didn’t stop the surprised look appear on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Not funny.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, turning to face the wall with a pout.

“Okay okay. I’m sorry.” Qimir said as he walked over to where you were. When you didn’t turn to face him, he decided to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside you. There was a thoughtful look on his face before he spoke again, “Maybe… Maybe he is looking out for you.”

That got your attention. You sat up, your shoulders brushing against his as you peered up at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”

A nervous blush creeped up his face as you leaned closer to him, “Well I mean… I…” He trailed off nervously, “I just mean that maybe you just might be more important to him than you realize. He could be looking after you to take on a more important role.”

“What’s more important than being his acolyte?” You huffed in confusion as you look towards your fiddling hands, “I remember what he said to me all those years ago when we first met. He promised he would make me a powerful force weirder and that I would stand by his side as his acolyte and now… Now I’m starting to question if he really meant it.”

Qimir’s hand found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze, “He meant it and… You are powerful. Just as you are brave and unlawfully kind.” He assured and it was your turn to blush.

It seemed like he always knew what to say to you in ways that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn, “Qi…” You breathed out as you glanced at his lips.

He was quick to copy your movements leaning in closer to you as he did so, “Maybe he sees too much good in you to turn you into something your not.” He whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

“You seem to know a lot about what he may think.” You whispered, suddenly lost in his darkening gaze, “Why is that?”

“What can I say? I’m good at reading people.” He smirked slightly as he looked down at your lips again, “I’m also extremely possessive over what I care about. Knowing him means knowing you.”

“Okay…” You hummed accepting his answer, “Alright then mister possessive, what am I thinking about right now?” You mused, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes.

It was something the Qimir couldn’t get enough of. It was your playfulness towards him that was like a breath of fresh air against the darkness he was met with daily.

“I would say…” His speech was slow as he traced your face with his eyes, “That you really want to kiss me.” He teased lowly. There was a small grin on his face in knowing that he was right.

He was always right.

“Do I now?” You didn’t try to deny it as you leaned in closer to him, “And you? What do you want to do?”

A low noise emanated from his throat, almost like a pleading sound as his lips brushed against yours, “I want to kiss you...” He said in a way that made your heart yearn for him.

“Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.” You breathed out, your heart racing wildly in excitement.

That was all he needed to hear as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the soft sensation in the way that he kissed you. It was delicate and gentle as if he was afraid to push you too far, but the way your arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to you, was all he needed to know.

He felt like light between your fingertips as you ran your hands through his hair and he was gentle with his movements in guiding you back against the bed. “Beautiful…” He breathed out, fitting himself snugly between your legs.

“Qi…” You breathed his name against his lips, arching your back as he tugged your bottom lips between his teeth. He held himself back, letting go of your lip to really look at you. You couldn’t help but look at him with awe as he gazed at you with so much love and devotion shining in his eyes.

“You are just… Breathtaking.” He admired you with every part of his being, “Utterly breathtaking…” He seemed mesmerized as his right hand traced along your curves.

You blushed, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked away from him embarrassed by his loving words, “Who knew you were such a flatterer.”

He chuckled lowly as he leaned back down to kiss your lips. All too quickly he left and began leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck. You couldn’t help your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.

“You deserve to be flattered.” He continued losing himself in everything that was you. He rocked himself against you as he held back the urge to devour you entirely. He wanted too so desperately now that he knew you were his, body, soul, and mind. He would never let you go, not now… Not until his last dying breath. “You deserve the galaxy, my little flower.” He muttered softly against your skin.

You have much to learn little flower.

You moaned lightly at the pleasure he filled you with almost kissing his last words, but you heard them. Your mind took a moment to register the deeper meaning behind his endearment, but when you did your eyes opened in realization. It was him. Qimir was him. No one knew about that little nickname except for…

“Master?” You whispered running your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, but your heart beat widely in your chest as he stopped kissing you.

“Hm…” He hummed a small smirk gracing his lips as he breathed against your neck, “You finally figured it out.”

You placed your right hand on his cheek and gentle lifted his head to face you, “He’s you?” You said in awe as you pieced together every moment up until now, “You’re him?”

“I am.” He searched your eyes for any fear or resistance, but his shoulders relaxed as he saw none.

“So… That is why you were never around when he— I mean when you were training me? Because you were already there.” Your brows furrowed, “Does Mae know?” A small pang filled your chest at the possibility of her knowing your masters identity before you.

He shook his head, “No.”

The pang quickly left, filling your chest with relief as you let out a small sigh, “So… That’s how you were so sure about how he was feeling because that’s what you truly felt…” A blush filled your cheeks at the kind words he said to you earlier.

However, you realized something else as well. He was the one who kept you from becoming his acolyte. You gasped as you smacked his chest causing him to groan and you would have cared for the old Qimir if you didn’t already know how strong he truly was as your master.

“Why won’t you make me your acolyte?” You huffed slightly embarrassed now that you know you spilled your guts to him, “This entire time I have told you how I felt. I am devoted only to you master so why will you not let me become your acolyte?”

“I thought you would have figured that out by now.” He chuckled shaking his head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? That is why you train me, it is why you let me stay with you, is it not?”

Strands of his hair fell into his eyes from the way he shook his head. You couldn’t help, but reach up to brush them away, something that had his heart flutter and his lips curl up into a soft smile. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed as he spoke softly, “I don’t want you to become my acolyte anymore because I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you.” His gaze darkened, “I would burn the galaxy before that ever happens.”

You smiled softly and brushed away the creases from his brow, “I know.”

“I want you to be mine.” He nuzzled his nose into your wrist before placing a gentle kiss upon in, “I want you to be my equal… Not as someone who does my bidding, not as my padawan or my acolyte, but someone who stands by me.”

“I want you my little flower because you are everything I wish the world to be.” He finished, a soft look in his eyes.

Love swelled up in your chest at the confession he conveyed so deeply to you. His love sealed your fate to him as you leaned up towards him. You brushed your lips against his, the both of you conveying your strong emotions to one another with the look of your eyes.

“You have my heart Qimir and I will stand by your side, always.” You agreed softly.

It was a promise that the two of you would keep without any doubt. He was yours and you were his until the end of time.

[runa-falls]

something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!” 

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble. 

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest. 

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too. 

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?” 

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.” 

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his. 

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks. 

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating. 

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.” 

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more. 

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes. 

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours. 

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans. 

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.” 

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.” 

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you. 

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you. 

 “No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening. 

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach. 

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso. 

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms. 

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."