#they kissed now. surrounded by shadows but warm in each others' arms

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : pure fluff, alternative ending.

A/N : some people requested it so I typed this in like 20min just for you. Hope it’ll bring you more happiness💕💀. @rayaskoalaland , @anakinca Here’s for youuuuu.

꧁ Alternative Ending ꧂

The house stood on a quiet hill, surrounded by wildflowers swaying in the breeze. The sun bathed the valley in golden light, casting shadows of children playing outside. Laughter rang out—pure, unrestrained joy. The Skywalker home was filled with life, with love, and with the echoes of a family that had found peace.

Anakin Skywalker stood at the edge of the yard, his arms crossed over his chest, watching his children run about. His dark hair was flecked with silver now, but his eyes remained as sharp and warm as ever. He smiled softly as his daughters took turns chasing each other, wooden swords in hand.

"You're too slow, James !" the eldest, Eleanor, teased her younger brother. At ten years old, Eleanor was already a force to be reckoned with—fierce, bold, and with a mind as sharp as her father’s. Her wild curls bounced as she spun, holding her wooden sword with surprising grace.

James, just three, stomped his foot in frustration. "I’m not slow! I’m strong!" he declared, puffing out his chest in defiance.

Anakin chuckled, stepping forward to kneel before his son. "And you’ll be stronger still, my little warrior. But strength comes with patience. Watch your sisters, learn from them." He ruffled Alaric’s dark hair. "And then show them what you’ve got."

James grinned, brandishing his tiny sword with determination.

Nearby, you watched with a soft smile, a basket of freshly picked herbs on your hip. You had always known Anakin would be a wonderful father, but seeing him now—with your children surrounding him, his laughter mingling with theirs—it filled you with an indescribable warmth.

Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening. "Come join us, my rose," he said, holding out his hand.

You placed the basket down and walked toward him, letting him pull you into his arms. His embrace was still as comforting and strong as it had been all those years ago. "They’re growing up so fast," you murmured.

"They are," Anakin agreed. "But I’m not ready to let them go just yet."

"Then don’t," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Later that evening, the children gathered around the fire as Anakin carved a small wooden sword for James. Each child had their own custom sword or toy, all carved by their father’s hands.

"Tell us a story, Papa!" begged your second daughter, Roselyn, her green eyes wide with excitement.

Anakin smirked, setting down the carving. "What story would you like to hear?"

"The one about how you met Mama!"

The children gasped in delight as Anakin began to tell the tale—how he had fallen for the princess who painted in secret, how he had crossed borders and battled armies for her. He embellished parts, of course, to make it more thrilling for the little ones, but the heart of the story was true.

"And in the end," he finished, pulling you close, "I vowed to protect her with my life. And I have never broken that vow."

Your youngest daughter, Lyanna, climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mama says you carved cribs for us when we were babies. Is that true?"

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. I carved a crib for each of you."

"And you sang to us?" asked your eldest, Eleanor.

Anakin nodded, his voice softening. "I sang to each of you, every night. And I’ll keep singing, for as long as you want to hear it."

One day, as you sat by the window, painting the wildflowers blooming outside, you heard the familiar sound of your children’s laughter. You looked out to see Anakin with all five of them, teaching Eleanor how to perfect her sword grip while Alaric clung to his leg, refusing to be left out.

"You’ll make a fine knight one day, James," Anakin told him. "But remember—strength is in the heart, not just the sword."

"And me?" Eleanor asked, grinning.

Anakin smiled proudly. "You’ll make a knight no king will dare cross. But more importantly, you’ll be kind. And that’s the strongest thing of all."

You stepped outside, watching as Anakin gathered all the children in his arms, spinning them around as they squealed with delight.

"Papa!" they cried. "Again!"

And Anakin laughed—a sound so full of life, it echoed through the hills, a melody of love, of peace, of everything he had fought so hard to protect.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family sat together by the fire, wrapped in blankets, listening to Anakin’s stories once more. You rested your head on his shoulder, your heart full.

This was your legacy—a home filled with laughter, love, and life. Anakin’s vow had held true. He had never let anyone take you from him. And in the quiet moments, as your children drifted to sleep, he whispered promises of forever.

"I love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"And I love you," you replied.

And in that moment, you both knew—there was no greater victory than that.

The court was bustling with activity. Nobles from across the land had gathered for the spring festival—a time of celebration and peace. Musicians played lively tunes, the scent of roses filled the great hall, and children ran freely through the corridors, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.

Anakin stood near the throne, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His gaze flickered from the crowd to his children, scattered across the room. His eldest daughters, Eleanor and Roselyn, were holding court with a group of noblewomen, their heads held high, their smiles radiant. Even at ten and nine years old, they commanded attention like queens.

"They grow more like you every day," you whispered, slipping your arm through his.

Anakin chuckled, shaking his head. "Gods help us all, then. They’ll take my rank before they’re twenty."

You laughed, squeezing his arm. "And you wouldn’t mind one bit."

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Not if it means they’re safe and happy."

Across the hall, your third daughter, Elara, was trying (and failing) to teach her five-year-old sister, Lyanna, how to curtsy. Lyanna, ever defiant, crossed her arms. "Papa never makes me curtsy!"

Anakin grinned. "She’s not wrong."

You shot him a playful glare. "You’re spoiling her."

"Of course I am," he said proudly. "It’s my duty."

The festival continued, and as dusk fell, the little family gathered in the gardens for a more intimate celebration. Eleanor, ever the responsible one, helped set up the table while Roselyn chased fireflies with Lyanna. Elara sat on the grass, weaving a crown of daisies for her little brother, Alaric, who giggled as he tried to sit still.

"Papa!" Lyanna called, running up to Anakin with a wildflower bouquet. "I picked these for you!"

Anakin knelt, accepting the flowers with a dramatic flourish. "For me? Why, I must be the luckiest man in the kingdom."

Lyanna beamed. "You are!"

He scooped her up, twirling her around as she squealed in delight. "And you, my little lioness, are the fiercest in the land."

Elara tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, can I ride with you tomorrow when you go to the village?"

Anakin knelt to her level. "You want to come with me?"

She nodded eagerly. "I want to see the world!"

Anakin smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. "The world can be dangerous, my tiny rose."

"But you’ll protect me," she said confidently.

He sighed, kissing her forehead. "Always."

The next day, court was in session. Anakin sat at the head of the hall, his children by his side. Eleanor sat straight-backed beside him, her eyes sharp and observant. Roselyn twirled a strand of her hair, bored with the proceedings, while Elara whispered stories to Lyanna to keep her entertained. Alaric sat on Anakin’s lap, his small hands gripping his father’s sword hilt.

"Papa," James whispered, "why do we have to be here?"

"Because one day, you’ll need to know how to lead," Anakin said gently.

"But I don’t want to be a general," James pouted.

Anakin chuckled. "Good. That means you’ll be a wise one."

As the court proceedings droned on, Anakin’s focus remained on his family. When a nobleman dared to suggest that his daughters were unfit to learn the art of swordsmanship, Anakin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My daughters will wield swords if they wish," Anakin said, his voice like steel. "They’ll wield power. They’ll be warriors. And they’ll have no need of any man to defend them."

Eleanor smirked. "I’ll be the best swordswoman in the land."

"And I’ll be better than you," Roselyn teased.

"You wish!" Eleanor shot back.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, pride swelling in his chest as he watched his daughters. They were his legacy—not titles or lands, but fierce, intelligent, unstoppable girls who would shape the future.

As night fell, Anakin made his rounds through the castle, tucking each of his children into bed. He knelt by Eleanor’s bedside, brushing her hair back.

"Papa," she murmured sleepily, "will you tell me a story?"

He smiled. "Of course. What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me about Mama."

Anakin’s heart softened. "Your mother is the bravest woman I’ve ever known. She saved me in every way a man can be saved."

Eleanor smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. "I want to be like her."

"You already are, my rose."

In the next room, Roselyn and Elara were already asleep, their arms tangled around each other. Anakin kissed each of their foreheads, murmuring words of love before moving on.

In Lyanna’s room, he found her sitting up, clutching a wooden sword.

"Papa, can you teach me a new move tomorrow?" she asked.

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. But only if you promise to sleep now."

"Promise," Lyanna whispered, settling back into bed.

Finally, he reached James’ room. The little boy was already half-asleep, clutching the wooden lion Anakin had sewn for him.

"Papa," James mumbled, "will you always be here?"

Anakin knelt beside him, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. "Always."

As he left the room, you joined him in the hallway. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"They’ll be great leaders one day," you whispered.

"They already are," Anakin said softly. "And I’ll make sure they always know how much they’re loved."

Later, as you both sat by the fire, Anakin pulled out one of the wooden cribs he had carved.

"Are you making another one?" you teased.

He laughed. "No. But I thought it might be nice to keep them. A reminder of when they were small."

You leaned against him, your hand resting over his. "They’ll always be our babies."

"And you’ll always be my rose," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And after all… we could make a sixth one." He grinned playfully.

The flames crackled, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth in your hearts. Outside, the stars shone brightly over the quiet castle—a symbol of the love, peace, and joy that now filled your lives.

The story of the poet and the rose had not ended in tragedy, but in love—eternal, unbreakable, and true.

[thedragonagelesbian]

the timing of the dance coming the day after they had to deal with mizora and the dream visitor in one night just has me so.......................................................................................

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all. 

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety. 

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it. 

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.    

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions. 

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment. 

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him? 

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more. 

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist. 

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.” 

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale. 

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.  

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes. 

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling. 

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions. 

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up. 

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you. 

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip. 

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.” 

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. 

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation. 

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.  

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind. 

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed. 

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons. 

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come. 

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed. 

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his. 

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips. 

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now. 

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever  convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate. 

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop. 

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm. 

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action. 

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back. 

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

[logaenhowlett]

MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.

Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity

A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!

MASTERLIST

Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.

It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.

And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.

His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.

It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.

"Where're you goin'?"

He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"

"Got nowhere to be."

"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."

Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.

"Let her try," he counters meekly.

As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.

His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.

Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.

"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."

"Darlin', that's the general idea."

He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."

A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."

A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.

"Missed ya."

Speak of the devil.

Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I just saw you like - "

"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.

Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."

"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."

You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.

Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But he backs off all of a sudden.

A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.

"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.

"We already live together."

A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."

He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."

It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.

He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."

"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.

"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.

"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.

"That's two more than I care for."

It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.

Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.

Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.

He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".

It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.

It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.

"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.

You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."

"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.

Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.

The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.

This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.

Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.

Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.

The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.

From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.

One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.

That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.

And so, you bit the bullet.

The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.

Logan couldn't have been more grateful.

"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"

Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.

"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.

Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.

"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.

A recon mission.

Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.

"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.

Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."

"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.

The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."

Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.

"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.

Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."

As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.

Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.

A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.

"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.

"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."

You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.

"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.

It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.

"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.

"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.

Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."

"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.

Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"

Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.

Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."

One second passes.

Two.

Three.

"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.

His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.

The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.

Then, nothing.

The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.

The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.

For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.

But then, you see it.

Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.

Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.

He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.

Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "

"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.

"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."

Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.

Seven days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.

It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.

And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."

The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Sweetheart?"

There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."

Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.

"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."

Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."

Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.

His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.

"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.

He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.

"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.

"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.

[ikkyfics]

Hello author, can i request a part two dor divination? Maybe the vision finally came true and its all just fluffy? Thank youu

Realization

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “Remember the Divination classes?” James asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself. “Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

Warnings: just fluffy - after Hogwarts(married with children), a very cute little Harry

A/N: hey honey, I hope you like it

Divination - Masterlist

The night in Godric’s Hollow was calm, the silence only broken by the soft crackling of the fireplace and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall. The golden light from the flames cast delicate shadows on the walls and filled the living room with a warm, cozy glow. It was one of those rare and perfect moments where time seemed to slow down, as if the world outside didn’t even exist.

Harry was on the floor, on the plush rug that covered most of the room, surrounded by colorful magical blocks he was trying to stack. He furrowed his brow, his little face serious as his tongue slightly poked out the side of his mouth. The newly built tower collapsed once more, and he let out an annoyed grunt before suddenly getting up.

James was sprawled on the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, watching his son with eyes full of amusement. You were sitting on the floor with Dahlia standing between your hands, propping her tiny arms on yours to keep her balance. She let out squeals of joy every time she managed to take a wobbly step or two before safely falling back onto the rug. Each of her attempts was met with laughter, claps, and kisses on the top of her little head.

“Again, little one, come on,” you encouraged softly, lifting her under her armpits and raising her into the air. Dahlia giggled in her tiny voice, her round cheeks flushed from the effort, her eyes sparkling with pure joy. She looked like a miniature version of you, the features so alike that even James had commented more than once how it threw him off a little.

At that moment, Harry, who was facing away from you, found James’s glasses abandoned on the coffee table. He picked them up carefully, turning them in his little hands as if they were a treasure. Without a second thought, he put them on, the large lenses slipping down his nose.

“Dad!” he called, stumbling over his words as he turned around with a big smile. “Look, now I’m you!”

James’s laughter echoed through the room, that loud and carefree laugh that brightened any place. He threw his head back, his hands covering his face for a moment before he stretched out his arms to Harry.

“Merlin, you look just like me!” James said, his voice full of affection. He scooped his son into his arms, messing up his already wild hair even more. “You just need to try flying on a broomstick and get into trouble, and I’ll have to retire because my legacy will be secured.”

Harry laughed, adjusting the glasses that kept slipping. “I’m going to fly better than you, dad,” he declared with all the confidence in the world, which only made James laugh more.

“Of course you will, Prongslet. That’s the spirit.”

On the other side of the room, you watched the scene with a smile so wide your cheeks ached. Dahlia, now in your lap, stretched her little hands toward her dad and brother, babbling something that sounded like a demand for attention. James looked at her and froze for a second, his smile softening as he watched the little one in your arms.

He stayed silent for too long, his gaze almost absorbed as he studied Dahlia’s face, so identical to his. You noticed the moment and furrowed your brow slightly, your voice soft as you asked,

“What’s wrong? Why the silly look?”

James turned his gaze to you, that silly grin still shining on his lips, and then looked back at his daughter, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her.

“It’s you,” he murmured, his voice so low that it barely reached your ears. “Smaller, cuter, but… it’s you.”

Your heart warmed, melting like butter under the sun. The look of adoration he gave his daughter was the same he reserved for you, and that always affected you in an inexplicable way.

“Careful, James,” you teased, your voice sweet. “She might end up wanting to fly better than you too.”

James chuckled softly, letting Harry slide off his lap as he stood up and walked over to you. He crouched down beside you, his arms extending around both of you.

For a moment, you stayed like that: Dahlia in your lap, Harry playing again with the blocks, and James too close, his presence as comforting as a warm blanket.

“Remember the Divination classes?” he asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Those classes? James, that was years ago.”

He laughed, resting his head on your shoulder while still looking at their daughter, now yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I know. But… I remember her talking about a boy with glasses. Just like his dad.”

His gaze softened as you also looked at Harry, who was now grumbling softly because another block tower had fallen. A boy with his father’s messy hair and huge glasses. It was truly remarkable.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

James turned his face to look at you, his expression so tenderly affectionate that it felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“And I also remember saying that I would prefer… a girl,” he continued, his eyes shining softly. “Someone who looked like you.”

The mention caught you off guard, an unexpected wave of emotion rising within you. Your smile was automatic, even though a stubborn tear threatened to fall.

“And here we are,” James murmured, kissing the top of Dahlia’s head as she finally fell asleep in his arms. “Who would’ve thought, huh? It seems like the future really was written. We just took our time seeing it.”

You smiled, one of those smiles that starts slow, spreading across your whole face, as you watched Dahlia’s little closed eyes. His words brought a warm feeling to your chest, mixed with old memories that seemed to come from another life.

“We really did,” you replied, resting your head on James’ shoulder, feeling his familiar warmth. “If it depended on you, we’d have been together since first year.”

James chuckled softly, looking at you with that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“I wasn’t wrong, let’s be honest,” he said, with a voice as if declaring a universal truth. “I spent six years trying to prove I was irresistible, but no… you preferred to ignore me. Ignore me, can you believe that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I’d call it common sense.”

James put on a mock expression of outrage, placing his free hand on his chest as though he’d been struck with an arrow. “Common sense? And when did you decide to lose that?”

“Sometime around sixth year,” you replied, trying not to laugh. “When you became less… unbearable.”

“Unbearable?” He blinked a few times, indignant. “Come on, love, you make it sound like I was the worst of the Marauders. Everyone knows Sirius was the problem.”

“Oh, of course,” you agreed, the tone ironic but playful. “Because Sirius, who by the way is the godfather who spoils the godson the most, didn’t learn from you how to be impossible.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Sirius didn’t learn anything from me. He was born that way.”

You laughed louder but quickly put your hand over your mouth when Dahlia stirred in your lap. James looked down at her lovingly and kissed her forehead again, murmuring a “shhh, it’s all right.”

At that moment, Harry appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his sweater. His hair was even more tousled than usual, and his oversized glasses— which he had taken earlier— were almost falling off his nose.

“Are you talking about Uncle Sirius again?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

James let out a contained laugh and reached out his free arm to pull Harry in. The boy easily settled onto his lap, snuggling between you and James.

“Of course. We always talk about Uncle Sirius, especially when he’s not around to defend himself,” James replied, smiling at Harry. “It’s the price he pays for being the most impossible of uncles.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes almost closing again with sleep. You ran your fingers softly through his hair, feeling how warm and comfortable he was.

“But he brought chocolate yesterday,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled against James’ chest.

“And ruined your dinner,” you said, rolling your eyes with a light smile. “Not even Remus can control Sirius when he decides to spoil you two.”

James nodded, amused. “That’s because Remus is a saint. I never understood how he puts up with Sirius even now.”

Harry lifted his head again, his little face scrunched up in curiosity. “But Uncle Remus likes Uncle Sirius.”

“He likes him a lot,” James confirmed, kissing Harry’s forehead, enveloping him in a warm embrace with both arms. “Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius were made for each other, just like your mother and I.”

Harry smiled at you, his little eyes almost closing. “So you’re the same?”

You exchanged a quick glance with James, feeling the warmth spread across your face. He gave you a sweet smile, though full of playful provocation.

“Yes, Harry. But don’t forget to tell your mum I’m more charming than Uncle Sirius, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a laugh. “More charming? James, what else do you want him to say? That you’re irresistible?”

James smiled openly, turning his gaze back to you. “I’d love to hear that again.”

Harry let out a little laugh, though he was already almost asleep again. You shook your head, amused, before looking at James more softly.

“All right,” you murmured, surprising him. “You’re irresistible, James Potter.”

James’ eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it, before breaking into a slow, passionate smile. “Did you hear that, Harry? Irresistible. Next time Uncle Sirius says something, you defend me, okay?”

“Okay, Dad,” Harry whispered, with a sleepy smile before finally closing his eyes.

The silence returned to the room, warmed by the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth and the slow breaths of Harry and Dahlia. You rested your head again on James’ shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent and the peace of the moment.

James, for his part, turned his face softly and placed a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, almost like a secret.

You furrowed your brow slightly, your heart beating faster. “For what?”

He smiled against your hair, as though savoring the answer. “For everything. For this. For choosing us. For being… you.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’d choose you a thousand times.”

James smiled, that special sparkle in his eyes.

“I am irresistible, after all,” he whispered, teasing.

You laughed softly to avoid waking the children. “And unbearable,” you added, looking at him fondly.

James pulled you both closer, smiling ear to ear. “I’ll take both. As long as it comes from you.”

And there, in the warmth of the fire and in each other’s arms, you stayed. A perfect picture of everything you’d ever imagined— a life full of love, laughter, and little miracles that even the best of seers couldn’t have predicted.

[thewulf]

Easy Skies || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake.

A/N: Ahhh sorry I've been gone! Been enjoying summer :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7k +

T/W : None just fluff

It’s been several weeks since you and Jake officially started seeing each other. You met at a community event honoring local heroes where Jake shared stories of his missions and the places his career had taken him. Your own interest in aerial photography sparked a quick and deep conversation between the two of you leading to an instant connection.

It was going really well. The two of you taking your time with everything. He shared stories of how we was reckless in the past and you were already very cautionary with types like his. So, you tested him a bit. Only kisses on the cheek, nothing more. And he did passed with flying colors. He never pressured you, never pushed for more. But now you were ready for something more. You're spending a lazy Sunday at Jake’s apartment for the first time. His place reflects his life as a pilot. It was decorated with navigational charts. With different models of aircraft he’s flown and photographs from around the world. The walls hold framed maps marked with the various places he's visited, each one holding a story he's eager to share with you.

As the afternoon fades into evening, you both settle into the comfortable couch in his living room. The soft music playing in the background mixes with the mellow golden light streaming through the windows creating a serene atmosphere. It's a rare and quiet moment for Jake who is usually caught up in the demanding schedule of a Navy pilot. You cherish the peaceful intimacy that has formed between you. Today’s simplicity is a precious contrast to the complexities of your usual routines.

As you both relax into the couch Jake recounts a comical error from his last training exercise. He'd accidentally swapped his day’s checklist with another pilot’s which led to some light-hearted confusion and teasing from his crew.

“You seriously went through half the pre-flight with the wrong list?” you laugh while shaking your head in amusement.

“Yep,” Jake admits with a grin. “It was only when I called out the wrong coordinates that someone caught on. We all had a good laugh about it later.” The conversation winds down as you both sink into the rhythm of each other’s presence, comfortable and at ease. There’s a genuine simplicity in the way you interact, no need for constant chatter. Jake’s job as a pilot often surrounds him with high stakes and rigor making these peaceful moments particularly valuable.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being able to sit and talk without rushing anywhere,” Jake comments. His tone relaxed.

“It really is,” you agree as you smiled over at him. “Especially with good company.”

He returns your smile with a warm, appreciative one of his own. As the room fills with the soft hum of a new song the day closes around you both, cozy and familiar. Like a well-loved jacket that’s been washed a hundred times. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. And right now, it’s exactly what you both need.

As the afternoon shadows stretch across the room a yawn escapes you, shifting the comfortable silence. Jake catches it and chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Tired?” he teases before nudging you gently with his elbow.

“Maybe a little,” you admit while stretching your arms above your head. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake nods understandingly. His gaze softening. “How about we take a little nap then? Recharge a bit?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow. A smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you’re joining. I hear you’re the best pillow around here.”

Jake’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let you down then.” He shifts himself making room on the couch and pats the spot next to him "Come here," he says softly. His voice blending with the low melody. With a contented smile you slide closer until you're nestled against him. Your head resting comfortably on his broad chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart through the soft fabric of his shirt. A reassuring rhythm that echoes quietly in your ear. Jake's arm wraps securely around you with his hand resting gently on your back. The warmth of his touch and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes bring an overwhelming sense of peace and safety.

For a few moments you simply listen, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, steady breaths he draws. It's a new level of intimacy of sharing this quiet closeness without the need for words. Jake's hand moves in slow, soothing strokes across your back further relaxing you. With each passing second the world beyond the walls of Jake’s apartment seems to drift further away. You're drawn into this serene bubble where the only things that matter are the soft fabric of the couch, the gentle caress of Jake's hand, and the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Jake breaks the silence with a whisper that's barely audible over the music. "This is nice," he murmurs. His breath tickling your ear. You hum in agreement as you were too content and relaxed to form words. The trust and affection in this simple act of cuddling deepen, marking a beautiful, quiet milestone in your growing relationship.

As the soft jazz continues to play creating a soothing backdrop, the room grows quieter still. The comfort of Jake’s embrace coupled with the warm, gentle atmosphere lulls you deeper into relaxation. His breathing becomes slower, more rhythmic, signaling his own descent into sleep. You feel his grip tighten just a bit. A subconscious affirmation of his presence and protection. Gradually, the space between wakefulness and sleep blurs. Your thoughts drift away, anchored only by the steady heartbeat beneath your ear. In the safety of Jake’s arms sleep seems like the most natural progression. Without planning it you both drift off. The world narrowing down to the couch where you lie together.

The nap isn't long but it’s restorative. Exactly what you needed. As you both sleep there’s an unspoken exchange of trust and comfort. It’s one thing to share conversations and activities but another to share such vulnerability as sleep in each other’s presence. This mutual comfort speaks volumes about the trust and closeness developing between you.

Time slips by quietly and when you eventually stir it’s to the feeling of Jake’s fingers lightly brushing through your hair. His movements are soft and careful, designed not to wake you but to reassure himself you’re still there. You open your eyes slowly meeting his gaze which is filled with a quiet joy.

“Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the peaceful moment you've shared.

“Hey,” you respond with your voice just as soft. The simple exchange feels like a gentle reconnection to the world affirming the comfort and affection that wrapped around you both as you slept. The nap together was simple yet intimate. It deepens the connection between you. Each quiet breath shared adding another layer to your growing relationship.

The afternoon light has softened into a cozy twilight by the time you both stir from your nap. You’re still wrapped in Jake’s arms and as your eyes meet there’s a playful spark between you that feels both exciting and comforting. “Welcome back,” Jake murmurs. His voice low and slightly husky from sleep. He leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then one on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle.

“Is that how you wake up all your guests?” you tease. Your voice light and tinged with laughter.

“Only the special ones,” he replies with a grin with his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t stop there though. His kisses wander from your cheek to your jawline, each peck light and teasing, drawing more giggles from you. The laughter that fills the room is warm, echoing the affectionate mood.

Jake’s playful kisses continue by tracing a path down the side of your neck, sending a shiver of delight through you. You can’t help but catch him by the collar before pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave this couch,” you laugh while still holding onto his shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he whispers back. His voice playful yet sincere. Then in a swift, fluid motion he captures your lips with his in a kiss that’s deeper and more intentional than the playful ones before. This kiss feels like a culmination of all the gentle pecks, each one adding a layer to the profound connection you’re building together.

As you break away there’s a shared smile. A mutual understanding of the affection and joy weaving through each interaction, each touch, each kiss. The playfulness adds a lightness to your relationship. He made moments like these not just romantic but genuinely fun, enriching the bond you share with laughter and love. After the laughter subsides and the atmosphere settles into a comfortable quiet, Jake looks at you with a contented smile. His eyes reflecting a gentle appreciation. "These moments with you. They're the highlight of my week," he says quietly. His voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Feeling a warm glow from his words you nod and smile softly. Your response understated but genuine. "It always feels different when I'm with you. It's easy, you know?" Your words are simple, echoing the straightforwardness of your time together.

Jake's response is a nod, his smile lingering. "Let's keep it that way," he replies. His agreement simple yet full of promise. The conversation feels natural, reflecting the comfort and understated affection that characterizes your relationship. As twilight transitions into the deep blue of night neither of you feels ready to break the comfortable cocoon you've formed on the couch. Jake glances at the clock, then back at you with a playful challenge in his eyes.

"How about we order some dinner?" he suggests. His tone casual but hopeful. "I'm not quite ready for this day to end. But I don’t think I can get up quite yet."

You laugh while agreeing instantly. "Sounds perfect. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza okay with you?" Jake asks already reaching for his phone to place the order.

"Always a good choice," you reply settling back against his chest while feeling utterly at ease.

The wait for the food is filled with more soft conversations. Each shared thought strengthening the bond between you. As the evening unfolds it becomes clear that days like these are just the beginning of what you both hope will be many more shared experiences.

When the food arrives, you set up a makeshift dining area on the coffee table, continuing the easy flow of the day into the evening. Each slice of pizza comes with stories you share. Each laugh making the room warmer. As the evening winds down, you find yourselves eagerly talking about other things you could do together, from movie nights to hiking trips. The night ends not just with satisfied appetites but with the excitement of planning future outings. It's clear that your relationship is blossoming. Full of promise for more beautiful days and nights shared in each other’s company.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[azrielbrainrot]

These Moments We Share

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: pure fluff, not proofread

Word Count: ~0,7K

Notes: I have a bit of writer's block so I wrote this little drabble in hopes that it will help a bit with it. I got the idea from #57 on this list.

Azriel had just came home from what you assume was a particularly tiring meeting with the High Lord and Lady, the famed warrior barely sparing you a greeting before striping his clothes off and laying down on your shared bed, easily finding his way between your legs, resting his head on your chest as he let out a heavy sigh, eyes closing immediately as if he had been dreaming of this moment all day.

You bite back a chuckle and start carding your fingers through his hair slowly, a smile spreading on your lips when he starts purring, wings falling heavily on the bed at your sides. The book you had been reading easily put to the side in favor of paying attention to your mate.

If someone had told you a few years ago that you would end up in this situation you probably would have laughed in their faces. Azriel was such a guarded male, always hiding behind his shadows and putting on a mask for the world to see, that it still felt surreal to see him let all of his walls down, allowing you to see all of him.

You could have never imagined that he'd be so needy either, even after years of friendship. No one would believe you if you told them how he lay on top of you now, large body tucked between your thighs, head resting on your chest, or if you told them about the soft sounds escaping him as your fingers played with his dark curls, the gentle puffs of air hitting your skin as he relaxed and his breathing deepened, but you were more than happy to keep it a secret, selfishly unwilling to share it with anyone.

“What is it?”

Azriel's words bring you out of your thoughts, a tingly feeling spreading through your body as you felt the rambling of his chest against your torso as he talked.

“Your hair's soft,” you murmur, one of your hands moving to rest on the back of his neck.

He lets out an unconvinced hum, knowing you were just changing the subject but letting you get away with it as he always did, nuzzling further into your chest before confessing, “I've been stealing your conditioner.”

“I know,” you chuckle, “you smell like strawberries.”

He shakes his head, lifting himself until his face is hovering over yours, smiling down at the pout that tugs at your bottom lip, missing his weight on you already.

“‘Smell like you.”

There's no time for you to appreciate the way your heart stutters in your chest at his soft words, whispered so beautifully in that low voice of his, before his lips meet yours, the world disappearing around you.

His scarred hands move under your nightgown, holding onto your waist as your arms find their way around his neck, pulling each other impossibly closer. You find it hard to pull away from him, moving to leave gentle pecks across his cheek when his lips abandon yours, a chuckle escaping him and an overwhelming amount of love rushing through from his side of the bond.

“It's late,” he sighs, laying down on his side, a strong arm wrapped around you as he moves you with him, not wanting you to stop your gentle assault on him.

You give him one last kiss, tasting his lips one last time before nodding and settling against his body. “We should go to sleep,” you whisper against his warm skin, “I was only waiting for you to come home.”

Azriel nuzzles into your cheek, hugging you even closer to him until it's impossible to see where he ends and you begin, dropping his wing over your body too as his shadows hide both of you from the world. Sleep already tugging at your eyelids now that you're surrounded by his warmth and scent. This moment couldn't be more perfect.

“Good night, Az.”

“Good night, my love.”

[v6quewrlds]

i saw you’re accepting dad/husband joe content eek!! could you write abt joe forgetting about his baby girl’s birthday because he’d been working all day? i love your writing smm 💗💗

you stood in the bustling kitchen, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. the aroma of baking cookies filled the air, a sweet pattern of sugar and spice that seemed to mock the chaos that surrounded you. you wiped your hands on your apron, the fabric smudged with a rainbow of icing colors, and took a deep breath. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each one a silent reminder of tomorrow's birthday party you were in the throes of preparing for.

amara and noa giggled in the living room, their laughter a delightful contrast to the pounding in your head. you glanced over your shoulder to find them playing with a pile of balloons, their cheeks rosy and eyes shining with mischief. "girls, dinner will be ready soon," you called out, hoping the promise of food would keep the chaos at bay for just a bit longer.

the door swung open, and joe's towering frame filled the doorway. the cool evening air brushed past him, carrying the faint scent of the falling autumn leaves. he looked exhausted, the shadows under his blue eyes betraying the toll the season was taking on him. you felt a pang of guilt for the mess you hadn't yet managed to hide, but it was quickly swallowed by your own fatigue. "welcome home, baby," you said with a forced smile. "how was your day?"

joe sighed, his eyes sweeping over the kitchen. "long," he replied, his voice gravelly. he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. "but i'm home now." he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, planting a kiss on your forehead. "what do you need me to do?"

you leaned into him for a moment, your body language screaming for relief. "could you take the girls for their baths?" you asked, your voice a mix of hope and weariness. "they've been driving me up the wall."

joe's expression softened, and he nodded. "of course, i've got it," he said, releasing you from his embrace. he scooped up noa, her chubby cheeks squealing with glee, and held out his other hand to amara. "c'mon, pumpkin, let's give your mama a break. it's bath time."

the girls trailed behind joe as he headed towards the bathroom, the sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your husband, so at ease with your daughters despite the stress of his career. you took a moment to appreciate the quiet that had descended upon the kitchen, the only noise the gentle hiss of the oven.

in the bathroom, joe filled the tub with steaming water and bubbles. he tried to ignore the twinge of sadness in his heart knowing that he had missed most of amara's special day. he looked down at his watch, the glint of the gold band catching the light. "okay, missy," he said, turning to amara. "let's get you cleaned up. tomorrow's the big party, and we want you looking your best for all your friends, don't we?"

amara nodded solemnly, her curly pigtails bobbing with the movement. she stepped into the tub, her tiny hands gripping the side tightly. noa watched from her bouncer, her attention occupied by toys adorning the toy bar. as joe helped amara settle in, she looked up at him, her doe eyes filled with a sudden sadness.

"what's wrong, sweetheart?" joe asked, noticing the shift in amara's mood. he knelt beside the tub, his long legs folding beneath him with a quiet grace.

amara's voice was barely a whisper. "you forgot to tell me happy birthday, daddy."

joe felt his heart drop. he had been so consumed with his own responsibilities, he hadn't even realized he had missed the moment. "amara," he said, his voice filled with regret. "i'm so sorry, baby girl. i didn't forget. it's just been a long day for me. happy birthday!" he leaned in and kissed her forehead, her skin soft and warm against his lips.

the sadness in amara's eyes didn't dissipate. "but you didn't tell me when i woke up," she said, her voice small.

joe sighed. "you're right, i didn't. and i should have. i'm so sorry, amara," he said sincerely. he took a deep breath, trying to push away the guilt that washed over him. "but you know what, i'm going to make it up to you. mommy and i are going to throw you the best party ever tomorrow. how does that sound?"

amara's eyes lit up a bit. "really?"

"really," joe nodded. "now, let's get you clean so you're all ready for your big day tomorrow, okay?" he grabbed the bubble bath bottle and squirted a generous amount into the water, watching as the bubbles grew and grew, threatening to spill over the side of the tub. amara's sadness lifted, replaced by the excitement of the promise.

[anantaru]

DAY 10 — EXHIBITIONISM

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. exhibitionism — having a strong desire to be observed by other people during a sexual activity

𖧡 — including — itto, childe, xiao, dainsleif

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, exhibitionism, public setting & outdoors, yes! we're touching grass, fingering, oral (fem! receiving), praises, needy boys & touch starved! genshin men

𖧡 — ITTO

itto holds you by his arms as you're being surrounded by a string of hurried gasps, and it's decidedly comfortable and personal whilst having them tightly compressed around your quivering shape— at the same time, you slowly notice the built up in his lust racing over the radiance in his eyes.

or his feet shuffling in their place when he lastly kisses you, firmly pressing you against the cold wall, your lips glossed due to his wet smooches, his tongue breaching and searching for entrance, reaching inside, his hands squeezing your ass, everything happens so quick and oh, there it was, the scene gets paired with melting kisses as itto laps at the warmth of your mouth.

in a hurried embrace, he courses one calloused hand down to your lower stomach before tugging at the hem of your pants, his eyes imbedded with a glimmer of needfulness, playful and as if he was about to beg— you figure, perhaps you have been apart for too long, after all, the last time you had seen each other had certainly been ages ago.

you should have expected this, because you dealt with it the same way, agonizingly counting each second before you would stumble home after your date to rip the clothes off your bodies, when in reality, now neither of you thought it was even necessary to return into the safe confines of your bedroom to be all over each other— and the thought of someone walking by only made it a whole lot more thrilling.

bare in mind— and this was crucial but there was nothing shielding you from curious eyes, besides an impending shadow casted down on you rubbing against each othet. for what mattered, the wall you're being pressed on was bitterly cold and chilly as well, even with your garments separating you, you can still feel it on your warm skin— when it effortlessly coaxes out the goosebumps on your spine.

"baby.. you smell so sweet," itto whines at you, a sharp, nipping groan spewing from his mouth, "—really really cannot wait anymore." how convenient for him, well, his senses were probably being much more dignified than your own so itto must've felt everything happening to an intenser level.

however, it's passionate when he first slides his warm digits past the waistband of your trousers to sneakily welcome the hotness of your cunt, clumsily ghosting his middle finger around your soaked folds before lastly finding your slit— his sloppy dick twitching against his rough pants, but itto didn't worry too much about it, his time will come soon enough.

"i missed you so much, baby." you retort back to him with a hitch of a sudden, rough fingertip circling your slit, idly kissing up his sharp jawline before whining at the finger prodding at your velvety hole— so, to keep yourself steady you wrap both arms around his neck and hide yourself behind his large frame pressing you against the wall whilst roaming your palms over his muscular back before ripping through the covered skin with your nails, "please..."

and one thing about itto, he fucks you like he hates you, and hearing you beg for him just like that pushes him on the verge of exploding and losing his mind, perhaps even fantasizing about swarming your pretty cunt with his dripping cock hidden under his pants— but he cannot wait for that, call him lazy but taking off his clothes will cost him additional minutes and he just had to be inside you, whilst not with his dick, instead with two long, thick fingers curling up inside.

feeling him again after such a long time apart makes you cry out, fuck, you missed him so dearly your heart was beginning to ache under your ribcage, your cunt welcoming him immediately, clawing down on his digits rubbing sturdily at your walls. a satisfied groan holds the foundation of his soothing noises like a warm breeze enveloping your body, his fingers continuing to pump into you at a rapid pace, painting you with the packing trace of his digits that clung to your swollen walls like instant glue, vibrations emitting through your wet sex whilst taking in his sloppy shoves.

"never.." he drawls possessively against your parted lips, huffing out warm pants before adding on to his words, "never ever wanting to be apart from you again." and your heart flutters open wide, his words touching that it almost brings you to tears— if only itto could see through your current thoughts right now, he'd see his handsome face immediately.

𖧡 — CHILDE

a suffocating euphony of passionate, drilling blows of raw skin on skin strike the darkness of the night as childe swiftly plants his hand on top of your mouth before leisurely continuing to roll his hips into your cunt without a single care in this world— being utterly aware that it wouldn't make a damn difference, even better if someone unintentionally picks up on the "unusual" noise.

his lips twitch up in a cocky smile when his hard, pulsing erection slips through your quivering pussy, pistoling over the aching pulse on your walls before easing his lips almost on top of yours, with nothing more but the back of his hand keeping you apart— you simply cannot believe this man and his tormenting ability to bring you to the sharp edge of things, even turning you this longing and ready to take his thick cock outside, yes, outside with the small particles of erupting sweat and wet moans sticking close on your skin.

to note that you were barely camouflaged was almost embarrassing in its entirety, besides that tree doing absolutely nothing to conceal anything at all whilst you're certain that someone had to hear at least something. regardless, you decide to secretly thank your boyfriend for holding your leg up with his other hand— you yourself being too weak to do so yourself, not when he made you receive him in such feral capacity, making an absolute mess of you, your arousal dribbling down your pussy at each thrust, the juices sticking on your thighs as he carries on with his strength induced pace.

however, for some fucked-up reason, it's turning you on by a tenfold— it's visibly notable on your shaking body and how your hips thrust up into his ruts while you're biting back pitchy whimpers, especially when childe drags his fat cockhead over that particular spot that made you lose control of your vision, the already limited breathing room evolving to an even more constricted version when ajax not once, changes the tempo on your hips.

"fuck— you know you'll be too fucking loud, baby." he laughs through a feigned sense of innocence, as if he hadn't planned this entire thing beforehand, you're sure of it— while it's utterly hilarious, even more hypocritical of him to have his hand planted all over your mouth when it was certainly him, instead, making most of the noise.

all you can say back was, well, nothing, besides a couple angry grunts into his palm and in any other instance you'd consider being mad at him, despite his perfectly shaped dick wrecking havoc on your silken walls forming around the size of him— yet tonight, you cannot be mad, not when he was utterly devouring your pleasure.

𖧡 — XIAO

you're being forced to stay quiet by none other than xiao himself— compelled to swallow down each pining ache in your throat— which, now come to think of it, might've been the most arousing out of the entire situation taking form, obviously not counting in the pleasure he induced on you.

the need to remain quiet though, it's what made the real difference in how your body had been reacting to his shape on you, "there's people down there, stay quiet." and he tells you, again, whispers it into your ear because xiao needs to be sure you understand the situation you're in as he kisses your forehead, his mannerism fusing into a soft, understanding lover before moving his hips again, thrusting his inches into you rougher, better, his pants soiled with his pre and sweat.

he grunts of both excitement and a dab of annoyance taking your loud, muffled whines into consideration. regardless of such, the man wouldn't want to experience it in an alternative way, always beyond flustered when you bite into his shoulder to quieten down, so you wouldn't pull on his nerves and make him punish you for disobeying to his orders.

wait, hold on for a second, this didn't sound so bad after all, or does it?

on top of that, the wangshu inn was absurdly crowded tonight, whilst xiao and you were preoccupied, sparse silhouettes tenderly touching each other just on top of the building— and for whatever reason, none of you proposed the idea of actually going inside and finishing what you had started. it would've been a far better idea, baring in mind that the certain place you were currently laying on, with xiao towering on top, was barely hidden behind anything— genuinely, if you'd lean your head just a little bit to the left, you could easily see a couple people chit chatting away, not knowing a damn thing on what was going on upstairs.

"hey!" xiao suddenly snaps at you, bending his head into your neck to bite at the sweat stricken skin, although faintly, it was strong enough to have you squeal out in mild pain, forcing your body to let go of a rushing shiver as a strong heatwave surges right under the surface of your cheeks the moment he props himself by his elbows to gaze down on you through pretty lashes— obviously without pulling his cock out, not when it felt so deliciously good being milked by you, yet do not get excited to soon because xiao wouldn't move either, without a care in this world leaving you to dangle around on a thread, his increasingly wet shaft bristling within the tightness of your walls.

"what did i say?" xiao's breath was hot and guttural against your parted lips, your legs trembling at his dripping dick not moving besides continuing to bulk up in your core as your translucent juices began to seep on his shaft and his trousers, slicking him up with your own, personal way of claiming the handsome yaksha. and instead of responding to his question, you resume back to nibbling on his defined jawline before deciding to voice out a whispery, little sorry to your boyfriend, knowing full on well that he will accept your half assed apology no matter the circumstances.

because in truth, xiao hasn't even started fucking you properly yet— until now, at least, because the second you're back to having your arms around his neck, he drags his entire cock out of you before shimming his inches all the way inside, greedily touching your insides and pumping his hard erection into the warmness of your sex— whilst baring his teeth together to stop himself from becoming overly noisy himself, the embarrassment that would occur from that looked like a death sentence to xiao, aside from standing there like a total hypocrite when it was him the entire night scolding you to stay quiet.

𖧡 — DAINSLEIF

"don't be too loud, okay?"

dainsleif sinfully bucks his tongue into your cunt before he places a single digit on your clit, thrusting against the bristling bundles of nerves as the softness of his wet muscle inside your slit made you whine out his name between wet hiccups— to top it all of, giving your breast a firm squeeze with his other hand.

you're done for, always will be whenever it was dainsleif who was in control of when your body was allowed to indulge in pleasure— despite that, you never would've imagined to be laid down on top of a cold, wooden table while you're surrounded by loud, noisy chit chatters from next doors, only realizing now that the door to your room, was partly open.

before you could voice out your growing worry, you're being forced to buck up your hips into his hungry mouth lapping at your puffiness, your pussy charging up on vibrations as your body moves far beyond your own control of it, a soreness on your legs increasing the strong built up on your tightened core as dainsleif stuffs you full with nothing but his tongue reaching your warmest, most desired places.

"seems like you noticed, hm?" he suddenly pulls his hot mouth away from you, smirking ever so slightly when you whine at the loss of it, but don't you worry now— because he keeps his fingers on top of your clit to twist the trembling flesh and trap it in between his digits— fuck, you're so desperate for this he could practically taste it on your entire body erupting of pervaded pleasure. in reality, the thought of people hearing you both wasn't something dainsleif actually minded that much, it preciously served as a way of making everyone aware of your current relationship status.

"what if they hear us?" you wince, feigning being worried were it not to the fact that there was nothing you craved more than having his skilled tongue pistoling inside your slit again, your pupils blown wide when dainsleif at last frees his cock from the confines of his pants, the penetrative noise of his belt hitting the ground echoing off the room, hand in hand with laughter from people residing just next to you.

it's him, him, him, you want him. and when dainsleif finally sinks the full length of his cock into you, he takes your body and claims it, squeezes his hips in between your legs so he could reach inside really deep, fucking you with his bottomless endurance, so precise and skilled that you shake under him, the wooden table scratching the ground as you nearly lose yourself, begging him to lean his chest down on you so you could easily hide and moan against the nook of his neck, whilst feeling how your hearts beat in sync.

of course, despite his nature of appearing cold and a little aloof, he answers your silent pleas and wraps his muscled arms around your body whilst keeping one large palm on top of your head so you wouldn't unnecessarily bump against something and actually hurt yourself, never once letting go of you— and you're squealing with delight, the tempo of his hips hoping to claim you and going so hard that this sort of pace would appear to be slightly punishing, but it feels so nice— relishing in the feeling of his thudding cock pounding into you with everything he's got when, all of a sudden;

"hey guys? do you also hear those weird noises coming from next doors?"

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dreamescapeswriting]

Every Beat of your Heart ~ JHS

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.9K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, military service, cute, fluffy, a little angst I guess, reader and hoseok being goals, 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The dim glow of the bedside lamp flickers in the quiet room, casting soft shadows against the walls. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your fingers toying nervously with the edge of the blanket, watching Hoseok as he finished packing his duffle bag. The sound of zippers and rustling made you snap out of your daydream but it did nothing to cover the tension hovering between you both. Everything was strained that day, you'd been two minutes away from crying whenever he spoke to you. Nothing felt like you had enough time together and you knew the day had gone by faster than usual just to torture you.

Hoseok was moving slower than usual, as though each item he folded into the bag was another second of time slipping away, he hated this. All day he'd just wanted to spend in your arms but he had obligations all over the place, the guys wanted to see him, the fans wanted a live and he loved them he did...but you were his world. He wanted to spend his last few hours with you.

His normally bright, energetic personality was muted, weighed down by the reality that this was your last night together... for a long while, something neither of you was exactly pleased about. You'd been trying to come up with ways to look at this all positively but it was a little hard. You clear your throat softly, trying to break the silence that was surrounding you both.

“You’ve got everything?” Your voice was shakey as you stared at the back of your boyfriend's head. Hoseok glances over his shoulder, offering you a small, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I think so.” He zips the bag shut with a finality that makes your chest tighten. It wasn't like you were going to be completely alone after this, you could still call and write letters but it wasn't going to be the same. None of it was going to be the same.

“It’s not like I’m going that far. I’ll be back before you know it.” He sent you a small smile before squeezing your thigh softly. You did your best to try and smile, but it falters and you tear up a little. You hated that you were doing this but you couldn't help it. It felt as though you were never going to see him right now.

You'd been the same when he went away on a world tour for the first time but you knew a schedule for that. This was all just new to you.

“I know.” You whisper a little. In reality, you knew he wasn't going to be away forever and the time would move a lot faster than you were imagining but it didn't make any of this easier for the two of you.

There’s a beat of silence before Hoseok walks over to you, dropping to his knees in front of the bed and smiling weakly. He takes your hands in his, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the back of your hands as you stare down at your hands intertwined.

“Hey, we’ll be okay.” He promises you. Your eyes well up with tears despite your best efforts to hold them back, you didn't want to spend his last day with you crying the whole time. You didn't want to make this harder for him than it already was but the thought of waking up without him tomorrow was killing you inside. You were going to have to get used to living in silence, without his laughter filling the house. It felt unbearable.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Your voice cracked as you shook your head. Hoseok leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin making you come out in goosebumps.

“I’m going to miss you, too. Every single second.” He smiles weakly and kisses your lips softly, the two of you leaning your foreheads on one another in silence.

You sit like that for a long moment, neither of you wanting to break the fragile bubble of peace you've created in the quiet. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your other hand resting on his cheek as if you can somehow memorize the feeling of him being close, the texture of his skin, the way he smells like warmth and comfort.

“I’m proud of you,” You whisper, your voice was once again, shaky.

“I’ll wait for you, no matter how long.” It was what you'd said to him after the boys found out they wouldn't be excluded from service and you would continue to remind him however long he needed to hear it. Hoseok’s eyes glisten under the low light as he pulls back just enough to look at you fully.

“You don’t have to wait too long. I’ll come back as soon as I can and before you even know it. You’re my priority, Y/N. I’ll be thinking of you every day.” He squeezes your hands softly and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to focus on the right there and now.

“I’ll write to you. And send you things. Whatever you need.” You told him with a smile making him chuckle softly for the first time all day, a sound that instantly warmed your heart.

"I'll send you things too," He offered and you nodded at him, running your hands over his shirt as you looked at him.

“Just send me something that smells like you. That’s all I need.” You promised him, leaning forward and closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his. The kiss is slow, tender, filled with everything the two of you wanted to say but couldn't find the words to do so.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly, his voice breaking just a little.

Your hands move through his hair, comforting and steady as you brush through the strands. It wouldn't be long until all of it was gone so you were trying to get your fill of it.

“I know. But we’ll make it through this.” You promised.

"And you know, having the house to myself might be nice," you tease as he pulls you into his arms, falling onto the bed with you as you cuddle into each other and enjoy your final night.

The days without Hoseok blur into one another until it had almost been a full month apart from each other. You were doing everything that you could to keep yourself busy, filling the empty spaces of your shared home with errands, work, and friends. But no matter how much you try to distract yourself, there are quiet moments—usually late at night—when the absence of him becomes unbearable to deal with. His side of the bed was always so much colder, the house quieter without his laughter.

Falling into the new routine was proving harder than you'd expected. For the first time in five years, you had to learn to sleep alone, and the bed felt miles too big, too empty for you. So you stacked pillows behind you for some kind of comfort, even spraying them with the aftershave you knew he loved.

The silence of the nights was deafening without the soft sound of Hoseok’s breathing beside you, you missed rolling over to listen to his heart. You missed waking up tangled in his legs in the mornings. Every night you tossed and turned around, clutching the pillow he used to sleep on, trying to find some comfort in the lingering scent of him. But it’s never the same. The room felt hollow, and every time she woke up, reaching out instinctively for him, you were hit with the stark and cold reminder that he wasn't there anymore.

The mornings weren't any easier either. You'd grown so used to your rituals—Hoseok making coffee while you lazily stayed in bed, his laughter filling the kitchen, the way he’d hum to himself when he thought no one was listening. The way he'd make sure to put your coffee in the fridge to cool it down since he knew you made your iced coffee after he'd gone to work and didn't like making it with ice because it watered it down too much. You missed coming home to fresh flowers on a Friday night when you'd finished work. Now, the house is filled only with the quiet hum of the fridge, and the once lively energy has dulled and the colour the fresh flowers bought you were dulled out. Everything just felt black and white.

Sighing you rolled over in the bed and grabbed your phone, glancing at your phone, opening up his last text again, the one he sent to you just before lights out.

HobiStar: "Missing you like crazy, but I’m okay. I’ll call as soon as I can. Don’t forget to eat well, and drink plenty, okay? Love you, always."

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to send another message, but you know he wouldn't see it for a while, every morning he was straight to training. Some days you were lucky enough to get a text and other times you weren't. Instead of replying, you shut the screen off with a sigh and walked over to the small table where you'd been collecting things for his care package.

You wanted to make sure he had something from home while he was there and you were trying to make sure all of it was perfect. It was your own little way of staying connected to him. You carefully folded up a sweatshirt you know he loves—the one that you used to steal from him when the nights were cold or when he went away on tour. You giggle a little to yourself as you remember all of the times he would pretend to be upset, only to toss it at you with a grin later.

Next, you placed a handful of snacks you'd picked out during a trip to the store: his favourite candies, a few protein bars, and some ramen that would remind him of home. You knew the food in the barracks must get monotonous, and these small comforts might help lift his spirits a little.

Your eyes wander over the table, landing on the bracelet you'd made last week, your heart fluttering a little at the thought of him wearing it - if he was even allowed. But it was just a simple bracelet, a few braided threads in his favourite colours, but it felt special to you and you knew it would to him too.

Lastly, you pulled out a small photo of the two of you together—one that you'd taken on a date not long before he left. In the picture, you were laughing, arms wrapped around each other, the sunlight catching Hoseok’s smile perfectly. Turning it over you quickly grabbed a pen and scribbled on to the back.

“So you don’t forget what we look like together. I’m waiting for you. Love, Y/N.”

Before sealing the package, you added in the long letter that you'd been writing all week long. It was something you'd poured your heart out into, promising him that you would make sure when he returned you'd have the home welcome for him. That you were going to throw a huge dinner party for him and his family to come along to and you couldn't wait to be able to cook for him again soon.

The door creaks open, and before you can even register the sound, you hear his voice—soft but unmistakable but it is him. He was home! You knew he'd been planning to come home that weekend but you thought you had more time to prepare for his visit.

“Y/N?” You drop the dish towel you were holding and rush to the entrance. Your heart races out of your chest as you finally see him standing there, looking just as you remembered but somehow different. His uniform is crisp, his posture a little more rigid, but it’s still Hoseok. The same warmth in his eyes, the same gentle smile you'd missed so much.

“Hoseok!” You practically scream, throwing yourself into his arms before he can take another step inside. He catches you - as he always did, his strong arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his face in your shoulder. He took in a deep breath, he'd missed you being this close to him, he'd missed feeling you in his arms and most of all he missed your smell. Spraying your perfume on the sweatshirt you sent him just wasn't the same as the real you.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your neck, his voice thick with emotion. Small kisses were left up and down your skin, as you felt your legs shake a little, almost giving in and dropping against him.

“I missed you too,” You sniffle, holding him even tighter, as if afraid he might disappear if you were to let go. You take your time to breathe him in this time—the familiar scent of him mixed with the fabric of his military jacket—and it feels like a part of you that’s been missing has finally come home.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, holding each other in the doorway. Neither of you was moving, too scared that it would be over too soon if you were to move. There was no need for words, just the comfort of being together again after so long apart.

“You look good,” You say, smiling despite the tears gathering in your eyes. He looked so different but it was a good different. The selfies he was sending you didn't do him justice at all.

“Different, but good.” you giggle a little as a blush begins to creep its way onto your boyfriend's cheeks and he chuckles, a soft sound that makes your heart flutter.

“You think so? I feel exhausted.” You brushed your hands over his face and nodded a little,

“You must be.” Your hands drop to his chest, feeling the firmness of his uniform beneath your fingers.

“Come on, you need to rest.” You whispered. He nodded at you, but before you could move, his hands found yours again, squeezing gently and looking at you. He wanted to commit this all to memory, to really take in that he was home, at least for a little while.

“I really missed you,” he says again, more serious this time as he needs you to understand just how much. It was killing him not being able to see you.

“I missed you too, Hobi,” You whisper, using the nickname you know makes him smile and you nod, squeezing his hand again.

“But you’re home now. That’s all that matters.”

"But it's only-"

"You're here," You whispered. Cutting him off before he could complain that he didn't have long. You didn't care how long you had him, he could come home for five minutes and you would still cherish every single second with him before he went back. He was home and you were going to take care of him.

Later that evening, after Hoseok had showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, the two of you had found yourselves sitting on the couch, legs tangled together under a shared blanket, one he'd sent to you while away. Your head was resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sound you'd missed more than he probably realised.

“Tell me everything,” You say softly, tracing small circles on his arm and looking up at him. The two of you had talked about his training before but that was only through letters, you wanted to hear all about it from him in person as well.

“How was it? Are you okay?” Hoseok lets out a long breath, his fingers dancing over your skin absentmindedly.

“It’s… hard. Different. But I’m managing.” He pauses, glancing down at you. It was hard for him not to see you every day or even the boys. He knew he got to see them on occasion but it didn't make any of it any easier.

“It’s weird, though. No matter how much happens there, my mind is always here. With you.” You felt your body heating up and you smiled, lifting your head slightly to look him in the eyes, you never wanted to take your eyes off him.

“I think about you all the time, too. It feels like something’s missing when you’re not here.” He leans down, kissing your forehead tenderly and closing his eyes for a second.

“I’ll be back for good before you know it.” The two of you cuddled together in silence a little while longer but you knew Hoseok was keeping his eyes on the clock. You could feel him checking it every so often and your heart sank when you realised why. He was probably counting down the minutes to when he was leaving you again.

“Do you have to go back soon?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, almost as if you were scared to ask him it. Hoseok sighs softly, his hand resting on the back of your neck.

“In a few days, yeah.” You smile. Days were better than you had been expecting so you nodded. You'd already called into work and told them you'd be out all weekend so you had time to spend with him.

“Then we’ll make the most of the time we have.” He pulls you closer to him and chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple as he nods a little.

“We always do.”

That night, the two of you fell asleep wrapped around each other, your limbs intertwined as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time when you hadn't slept together.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the military training facility, Hoseok couldn't stop the way his heart was racing as he waited for you. All week long felt like it had been torture, counting down the seconds to when he could finally go home and go home for good.

The air was thick with tension as soldiers said their goodbyes to each other, laughter and emotion swirling in the late afternoon breeze. After two years of service, today is the day—he’s finally discharged. No more long-distance calls, no more nights in the barracks. He’s going home and not just a visit.

Home. Home for good.

But first, he needed to find you.

You'd told him you were going to pick him up from the base but neither of you had realised just how busy it was going to be and how quickly you were going to get lost in the sea of people all coming to get their loved ones.

He glances around, searching through the sea of people. His uniform feels too stiff, his hands trembling with nerves. He knows you were there somewhere in the crowd, waiting for him, just as you had been through all the time you'd spent apart. His heart pounds harder with every step as he scans the faces of those around him, anxiety creeping up when he doesn’t immediately spot you.

“Y/N…” he whispers to himself, his voice lost in the buzz of the crowd. He hadn't been this needy to see you since the first time he went away on a world tour and had to come home to you.

Meanwhile, you rushed through the training grounds, your heart pounding in your chest. This day was everything you'd been waiting for, everything you'd been dreaming about, counting down the days to when you finally had your man back. But now that it’s finally here, you can hardly contain your emotions. Ever since you'd woke up that morning you'd been crying on and off. You'd had to pull over on the drive here because you couldn't see through your tears.

Even now tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you move faster, your eyes darting frantically, trying to spot him among the rows of uniforms.

Where is he?

Your hands shake as you grip your phone, his last text open on the screen. “I’ll be out soon. Wait for me, love.” You look up, panic rising when you don't see him right away, you knew he was here, there was no way he wasn't here but not seeing him was making your chest tighten more and more. But you kept moving, pushing through the crowd, knowing that you'll eventually find each other. You always did.

Suddenly, as if drawn by some invisible force, your eyes lock across the distance, your smile spreading from ear to ear as you see him. Time seems to slow, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as everything else melts away. Hoseok’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he can’t move. He stands there, frozen, as if his body can’t quite believe it’s real. But then, without thinking, his feet start moving, faster and faster.

At the same time, you feel your heart leap into your throat and you start running, the crowd parting like waves as you sprint toward him. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, tears streaming down your face, but none of it matters, you don't care who saw you crying right now. He’s right there, and after two years of waiting, nothing can stop you from reaching him.

Like in the movies, the two of you crash into each other with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. Hoseok’s arms wrap tightly around you, lifting you off the ground as he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in. Your hands clutch the back of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, your heart racing as if it’s trying to make up for all the time you've spent apart.

“Hoseok,” You whisper, her voice breaking as you break down into tears.

“You’re here… you’re really here.” You whimpered, sniffling a little as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes shining with tears, his hands cupping your face as he ran his thumb under your eyes.

“I’m home,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m home, and I’m never leaving you again.” He vowed to you.

Before either of you could say another word, your lips crashed together in a desperate, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks of every missed moment, every sleepless night and every unspoken word you'd held onto for two long years. Hoseok holds you as if he were afraid you were going to disappear, pouring all of his love, and all of his longing into the kiss.

When the two of you finally pull apart, both breathless, Hoseok presses his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice trembling with the weight of his feelings.

“I missed you more,” You giggled, your eyes once again filling with fresh tears.

“I thought about you every day. Every minute.”

“I know,” Hoseok says softly, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you, baby." He whispered, bringing you into him and holding onto you tightly. The two of you forgot all about the other soldiers who were reuniting and getting lost in each other.

"I love you too...I-I...I told your family to be home in four hours." You whispered to him,

"It only takes an hour to get home-"

"I know," You smirk at him, you just wanted some time along with him before you had to share him with everyone else again.

"Then let's not waste time," he smirks grabbing your hand and following you out to the parking lot.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[loganhowlettshousewife]

lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot. 

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[k0yaz]

your girlfriend is very pretty.

Pairings: navia x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, reader has rlly bad gay panic, like holy shit she’s actually my gf type stuff, wlw, girls kissing omg??literally one mention of sex and that’s it, desire to punt a little boy like a football, can be considered a crackfic lol??? even though I don’t know exactly what a crackfic is supposed to be, not proofread.

A/N: YESSS NOW WHAT I WANNA WRITE also yes this is based off of that one meme where the kid says “well your gf’s rlly pretty”

Swishes of cascading water filled the air, the pleasant sound circling the atmosphere of Fontaine and fitting the clear blue skies. Your eyes squinted slightly as Navia’s honey blonde hair fluttered into your face, grazing the tip of your nose. Both of your hands were firmly gripping onto each other, the tip of your fingers brushing along her dark gloved hands.

Both of you had just decided to take a walk through the streets of Fontaine, various stands up on the streets catching your eye occasionally, while Navia would just drag your arm and laugh whenever you got stuck looking over at something. Her freehand reached up to clutch the end of the wavering fabric of her hat to keep it down, as it flowed upward from the profoundly warm breeze swaying her clothing and hair.

Navia’s sea blue eyes traced along every corner of Fontaine as she pulled you along, only causing you to let out a sweet laugh in response to each tug of your arm forward. Her sweet smile only made your heart thump in your chest subtly, her grin being near infectious as her energy only made you let out a small laugh of your own and follow her along.

“(Name)? Are you even listening to me-?”

You blinked, only seeing Navia’s casted shadow from the sun behind her, along with her alluring frame face to face with you. Bringing your palm to your lips, you furrowed your brows from embarrassment and shook your head, a sheepish look crossing your features. Navia only responded with a small huff, which quickly progressed into a soft laugh from your beautiful girlfriend.

“I said that I’m going to go pick up a pastry for us. Any preferences?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You smiled and shook your head, keeping yourself composed. “Nah, I trust your taste, Navia.” You joked, earning an amused chuckle from your girlfriend as she nudged your shoulder lightly before turning her back to head into the shop to pick something up for the two of you.

For a moment, you just stood there awkwardly, face slightly flushed as she left you by yourself. As everyone around you kept moving, your brain was in absolute scrambles when you thought about Navia. Was this a dream? You were really dating this woman? On top of that she treats you like a radiant goddess? Are you in reality- hello?

Your mind detached itself from reality at this moment, darting to your own unwavering thoughts spinning in your brain. She would always comfort you when you needed it, make sure you were okay, and check up on you frequently. Your eyes would relax and your shoulders would droop as you leaned into her touch grazing your cheek. Her face would look absolutely enchanting under any dim golden lighting, her eyes like a deep pool of water that surrounded Fontaine as you gazed into them.

The way you would flutter your eyes shut and tilt your hand into her cheek whenever the words “I love you” fell from her pink, glossy lips. The way you would quietly whisper it back while your gaze was locked onto hers with a deep longing, her touch bringing an almost immediate comfort to your senses no matter the situation. And let’s not forget when her name would spill out of you repeatedly like a prayer whenever she was bare and towering over you, flushed skin stuck to yours as her soft lips found their way onto your chest..

You immediately paused, eyes widening as you cleared your throat to yourself to compose your thoughts when you realized what you were thinking about. At that exact moment, Navia stepped out of the store holding two paper boxes in one hand as she found her way back to your side.

“What’d you get?”

“I’ll keep that a surprise until we get home.” She responded, still holding both boxes in one hand as she used her free hand to lace between yours. Letting out a mellow sigh, you only smiled, tightening your fingers between hers. “Well, I do trust you, Navia. You never disappoint after all.”

Before you two could begin to walk, a small tug on the cloth of your shirt made you halt in your tracks for a moment, head spinning around abruptly to see nobody behind you. Your face wrinkled up in confusion, before you felt the pull again, and looked down. Looking up at you was a young boy, probably aged around eight or nine. His eyes darted between you and Navia, gaze seemingly innocent as he tilted his head back to meet your face. You raised an eyebrow, confusion etched on your face as to why this kid would randomly stop you. You certainly weren’t his mother or anything. “Can I..help you?”

He fidgeted with his hands slightly, palms clasped together as he played around with his fingers and looked down periodically. It took a moment before he finally opened his mouth slowly to reply to your upfront question.

“Uhm…who’s that lady with you…?”

He mumbled shyly, now playing around with the hem of his shirt. You paused, holding back a snort of laughter at the kid’s random and simple question. Yet, you held yourself back for the sake of not embarrassing him, and leaned down.

“Ah. That’s my girlfriend, little man.”

“Your girlfriend is very pretty…”

Say what-?

You knew better. He was just a kid and he was just giving her a compliment. You were an adult, there was no need to get jealous over a little kid. Letting out an awkward chuckle, you looked over to the side uncomfortably, trying to not let your facial expression slip in any way to reveal anything. It was just an innocent compliment from a little boy.

“Aha..yeah she is! She’s gorgeous and very sweet! I’m lucky to be with someone like her-“

“Can I marry her?”

His cut off made your face immediately contort with a strong distaste, stirring up a defensive apprehension right away. You wanted to squat down to his level and flick his forehead, along with spitting an annoyed ‘now listen here you little shit-‘ to him. Upon seeing your irked expression, Navia sighed, placing a hand onto your shoulder as she pushed you back so she could kneel before the boy.

“Sorry to crush your hopes, but I’m already going to marry this gorgeous woman over here. But you’ll find someone, I promise.”

The kid’s expression grew dejected, yet he nodded in understanding as Navia gestured him to go about his day. Your eyebrows raised in surprise and sucking in a breath between your teeth bashfully. Navia’s shoulder brushed against yours as she rose to her full height, her appearance still rested and gentle. The boy kicked away to leave you two alone, disappearing off into the distance to mind his own business. A sudden whimper left you as your cheek was pinched between Navia’s slender fingers, eyes screwed shut and letting out a string of repeated “ow’s.”

“And you, sweetheart. He’s just a child. No need to get all defensive over me from some boy who isn’t even in the double digits!” she scolded, causing you to nod frantically as your head was pulled off to the side. “Yes! I get it! Just let go!”

Navia parted her fingers quickly, releasing your cheek with a proud expression on her face, while you just stood there, palm massaging the blistered skin of your cheek and flexing your jaw. She only smiled and took your hand once more, leaning over to press her smooth lips against your cheek. The contact only served to fluster you more, eyes squeezing shut and lips pursed as you tried to stay calm and collected from the beautiful woman—who was in fact your girlfriend—kissing your cheek.

“We’ll head home to eat these pastries, and I’m all yours for the rest of the day, alright sweetheart?”

A/N: I’m aware there’s other requests (I just finished my inbox reqs but idk how yall got here this fast) but I’m working on what I want for sometimes so I’ll get to my inbox when I feel like it 🕯️

[loveshotzz]

Favorite Part

steve harrington x fem!reader

🎵I’m tangled in his arms, this is my favorite part, suddenly there’s no worries anymore. 🎵

summary: In the middle of the night, you and steve miss each other.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: 18 + soft semi desperate spooning smut with no plot besides that you and steve had a long week apart, mentions of ass play (fem receiving), dirty talk, cream pie.

author’s note: adjusting to new meds has made writing not come easy, this little blurb is to help me get back into the swing of this. I hope you enjoy 🥹

Your bedroom was dark when you opened your eyes, nothing but the deep purple haze of the late night and the soft glow of street lights in the distance illuminating your four walls. The big tree outside your window dances shadows across your blinds, the low hum of wind carrying what’s left of the storm with it. You loved it best like this, surrounded by him, he’s warm like the sun that was somewhere shining on the other side of the planet, soft with sleep and the smell of spearmint fresh on his breath. The rich pine of his body wash still lingers on his skin from the shower you shared before climbing in bed too tired for anything but sleep. The rain tapping against your window in just the right rhythm to send you both into your dreams.

Your naked limbs lay tangled under the sheets, the dark patch of hair on his chest tickles against the dip of your back with every deep breath your boyfriend takes. The blunt edges of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips when he stirs like something exciting is happening to him in whatever place he’s lost in behind his shifting lids. A low puff of air exhales through his parted lips, fanning hot across the nape of your neck, goosebumps rising in its wake while his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. A tight grip by his big hands pulls you closer, strong arms caging you in. You wonder if he’s awake now, like you.

It’s only when you feel the softest press of his lips against your hairline that you know he is. Pushing deeper into his chest, he hums low in approval, wrapping himself even tighter around you, muscles flexing under a sea of freckles. His skin was tanner than usual from the beginnings of the summer sun and you swear you can still feel the heat it left behind while your fingertips trace invisible lines. Lulling your head back to rest against his shoulder, you open your neck up for more, enticing a path for his lips to go. You feel him smile, the stubble on his jaw a little more noticeable as he lights a fire inside of you with each kiss, the sweetness from before becoming a little more hungry when you grind against his hard length pressed between your ass.

“Sweet girl.” His voice is low with a warning he doesn’t mean, the hand on your hip working its way down to grab at the soft meat of your thigh, squeezing, encouraging.

Rolling your hips again, he palms the side of your ass cheek, his own hips meeting yours, his tip catches the entrance you’d only let him explore with his tongue or sometimes a thumb while he’d make you come undone. He taunts you with it, pushing just enough to have you whine, wiggling against him for more.

“That feels good, baby?” His lips brush against your ear with every word, nodding dumbly, the sleep is still so thick in his voice makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Is this where you want me?”

“Steve.” You huff already tired of his teasing, he chuckles in between sucking purple bruises where the one’s he’d left before had faded.

His palm curves under your knee to hook your leg over his hip and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when your thighs pull apart sticky, a disbelieving groan leaving his throat when his cock slides heavy between your slick lips. He can feel how wet you are from just a little bit of his teasing.

“Honey,” He sounds wrecked when he talks again, pulling your leg even farther back so his tip can catch your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. “Were you dreamin’ about me or somethin’?”

Maybe you were, you couldn’t remember, not when he starts circling your entrance, your walls fluttering around his head with anticipation.

“Please,” your voice sounds small, pleading, as the week of not seeing your boyfriend starts to all hit you at once. “Missed you so much, please, I need it.” It sounds like you're throwing a fit as all of it starts to feel like too much and he’s not even giving you enough.

“Shhh, I got you, I got you. I’ll always give you what you want, so sweet for me. Asking so nice baby.” He coos in your ear, his words dripping with honey as he lines himself up, your back arching against him as he inches in slow enough for you to adjust to the big stretch.

It’s like warm silk the way you wrap around him, your walls giving into him no matter how impossible it always seemed at first. Whispered words of I missed you’s, and I love you’s flow freely from his wet lips while you take him to the hilt. The thick patch of hair that frames his base rubbing against your clit in a way that has you keening.

“Fuuuuck.” He huffs, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his cock twitching against your muscles that flutter and constrict around him. Stilling your hips with a firm hold you can tell he’s trying hard not to cum.

He leaves lazy kisses along your back when he finally starts to move, he’s slow, taking his time so you can feel all of him. Every ridge and curve takes up space, stealing your breath with each punch to the spot only he can find. The tip of his nose runs along the back of your neck while his palm finds a new home on the swell of your breast, your nipples peaking instantly just for him.

“Takin’ me so well, look at you. Always so good to me baby.” His praise only adds to the lewd noises filling the room, sliding in and out of you with the kind of ease he usually only gets after he’s made you cum a few times. Steve feels like he might lose his mind.

You whine a little when he pinches your nipple, your own hand reaching behind to sink your fingers into his hair. You needed to kiss him. He obliges, always picking up on exactly what you want. What you need. His bottom lip connects with your top one in a messy way, the power of his thrusts making it hard for anything more than this. Panting into each other’s mouths, your tongues find each other, licking dirty in the middle. The animalistic need for each other finally comes to a head, when two of his fingers find your puffy ignored clit.

“Babbbyyy.” You're so loud and he loves the way you sound like you’re gonna cry, tightening around him like a vice.

His lips tug up in a smirk when he nods against your open mouth, silently telling you he knows. You make a mess of his fingers that circle the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl and your eyebrows pinch together.

“You wanna cum for me?” He sounds strained, teetering the edge like you despite the confidence of his words, his hips stuttering to prove it.

“P- please.” Your response makes him groan, his fingers picking up their pace as you meet each thrust with just as much vigor desperate to reach your high. White hot heat fills your insides as your body starts to come apart, the sound of your sweat slick skin smacking together bouncing off your walls.

“Saying please like that is gonna me cum too, you want that? You want it baby?” He eggs you on as your head falls back, your jaw going slack when he circles his hips hitting the deepest spot inside of you. “Say please one more time for me, come on.”

He’s practically growling for you to give him what he wants. A fucked out “please!” falling from your trembling lips before your body goes limp in his arms overwhelmed by all of him as your orgasm starts to rip through you like a tidal wave.

Your vision blurs from the intensity of it, mouth open in a silent scream as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He stills to paint your insides, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bites down on your pulse point to keep from crying out. His whole body trembling against yours as he pulls you impossibly close. You’ve never felt so full, as he slowly starts to leak out.

An aftershock causes you to flutter, making him hiss against your bruised skin overstimulated by the intensity of it all before he’s finally soft enough to slip out of you. The sleepiness from after the shower returns to both of your spent bodies as he nuzzles his face back into you making no moves to untangle himself.

“I really missed you.” He mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to his favorite spot behind your ear.

“I really missed you too Stevie.” You hum content, the sound of the storm returning filling the quiet again.

[the-guppy-fish]

HC - Simon "Ghost" Riley

Types of relationships - friends with benefits

Part two😗✌🏻 (written so reader can be either military or civilian, but reader knows tf141- we're not picky about jobs)

MDNI 18+

Warnings: the fuckening, sex, p in v, fingering, handjob (foot job? Kinda, but also not), oral m&f.

Slightly proofread

What started out as friendly chatting quickly turned into heated banter when it was only the two of you.

Throughout the months upon months, you had known each other, one secret rendevouz turned into many, many more.

It all began when Price had invited everyone, he knew and enjoyed spending time with, to a garden party at his home.

During the afternoon, you and Simon danced around each other. Not really talking. Not really showing an interest in one another. Not until the evening came along, and the surprisingly large garden was bathed in a gloomy light.

Simon appeared from the shadows (like a fucking vampire - sometimes you cursed the abilities he had learned through his job).

"You've been avoiding me." He stood behind you, glancing over the garden in front of you. His deep voice filtered through the warm air.

"I have not. You have been avoiding me." You heard Simon chuckle behind you.

"Right." You felt his hand snake around you waist. Slowly, you turned your head to face him, body still facing the slowly decreasing crowd in Prices garden.

"Simon?" You looked at him questioningly as his hand travelled further around your middle. His fingers spread over your stomach, thumb grazing the space between your breasts.

"Tell me to stop, and I will." You breath hitched, but you said nothing.

"Say nothing, and follow me."

Simon led you into the treeline surrounding Prices garden, which merged into a forrest. Once you were out of sight, he placed you between himself and a particularly large tree. His arms caged you underneath him as he dipped his head down to look into your eyes.

"You want this?"

You tipped your head up, facing him fully. "Do I want you?" You countered him.

He nodded.

"I do want you." You answered his question. And when you did, your words were almost swallowed by him. His lips came crashing down onto yours. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing, holding, digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

Your own hands squeezed at the strong muscles of his chest and neck. Simons tongue had slipped past the seal of your lips, and his fingers had lifted your dress, exposing your thighs and hips to the cooling air.

He pulled back to look at you, searching for permission to move forward.

You nodded feverishly, giving Simon permission. His fingers pulled your knickers to the side, letting his fingers dip into the wetness between your thighs.

He fingered you while his lips roamed over your neck. He sucked hickeys into your skin as his fingers swirled around your clit and into your heat.

Soon enough, you came undone on his fingers. Moaning and sweating lightly, you held on to him.

"Fuck Simon." You panted lowly. He chuckled at your state and pulled his fingers from you, wiping your slick off on the inside of his shirt.

"Yeah, love. Best we keep this to ourselves, right?" He looked down at you as you came back to reality.

"Right, yeah." You nodded while looking up at him. He was right. No one should know. You should keep this a secret.

"Alright. I'll drive you home. Meet me at my car in 5."

He kissed your cheek, and then he left.

Simon texted you every now and then. But always only when he was home. Never when he was out on an OP. You still met up with your common friends and all, but to the outside world, you were 'just friends'.

You up?

Love, can I come over in 10?

Idc if you're home or not. I'll stop by your place anyway.

Just wanna say hi

And he did come by to say hi. You were home, chilling on your couch as he knocked at your front door.

He stood before you, in some of his tactical gear and face hidden by a mask. He had just come home.

"Can I come in?"

Simon led you to the couch. He peeled away your clothes and his own as you walked closer and closer to the couch. His lips were on you the second his mask left his face. He kissed you like he was a starved man.

Soon enough, you were naked on your couch. Simon laid on top of you as he kissed at your lips with a feverish rhythm. His hips thrusted into yours, his hard cock weeping with precum. Desperate to find comfort in your dripping cunt.

Simons lips moved from yours, down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin.

"I need you." He bit softly into the muscle connecting your neck to your shoulder.

"I missed you." His deep voice seeped into your ears as you parted your legs wider for him. He slid his cock into you with no trouble, your juices coated his cock, letting him slide right into you.

"Fuck love. I missed you so much."

You were a moaning mess, holding on for dear life as he fucked you into your couch.

Simon loves to eat you out. Whether it's just a taste or hour long sessions, he doesn't care. That man just wants to taste you.

Especially when he is staying the night and you're walking around in one of his shirts. The fabric sways around you like a short dress, your legs bare as you walk around the kitchen.

At some point, he snaps. He can't just sit on the bar stool, as you dance around on the other side of the counter.

With a swift motion, he turns the heat of whatever is on the stove down to a simmer and lifts you to sit on the counter. Legs parted and fingers curling into his hair, Simon eats you out while your dinner simmers in the pot.

Simon loves the sounds you make when he sucks at your clit, his fingers massaging that spongy spot inside you. He loves it when you clench around his fingers, and your juices leak onto his chin.

Simon is the type of man who doesn't come before you do. No matter how much you tease him. He will hold you down and make you come before he even thinks about himself. That is, if you don't turn him into a desperate, leaking mess first.

Also, he found out that he likes to play with you in public, hidden from everyone around you.

So, when you're at the bar, sat in a booth with your friends, Simon, is 🤏🏻 this close to murder you when he feels your sock clad foot inch it's way up his inner thigh under the table.

You had discarded one of your shoes to tease Simon through his jeans. Once he felt your foot inch closer and closer to his cock, he shifted his hips closer to the edge of his seat and leaned forward to hide what you had going on.

There wasn't much you could do in your position besides just touching him through his jeans. But your ministrations did their work, and Simon grew more and more tense. The look on his face was stoic, but you sensed what was happening behind his dark eyes. He was growing desperate for more. His aching hard cock was pulsing under the arch of your foot. His eyes flickered back and forth between you and the bathroom at the other end of the bar. His hand had found its way around your ankle, holding your foot close to his crotch, pressing it down onto his aching cock.

Soon enough, he snapped. He reached for his phone and shot a message to yours

Bathroom. Now.

You looked at him questioningly. He only squeezed your ankle and pushed your leg down. You got your shoe on again and excused yourself to leave for the bathroom.

A few moments later, Simon appeared in the hallway, leading to the restrooms.

"Get in. Little minx."

He pulled you into a stall and locked the door behind you. As soon as the lock clicked, his lips were on yours, desperate and needy for more.

You unzipped his pants and tugged his weeping cock out. It sprung free and stood stiffly in the cool air. Simon hissed against your lips as you began to work your hands around his shaft and tip.

"I need more. All your teasing..fuck..please."

'Oh poor Simon' you thought. You had mercy on him and got on your knees. Gently, you licked at his tip, the salty taste of his precum spreading on your tongue.

His fingers curled into your hair as you began sucking in more and more of his length. While you slurped away at his cock, Simon was fighting to keep his moans silent. He was lost in pleasure as you swallowed him greedily.

Before he had time to prepare you, he spilled his cum into your throat in a blinding orgasm. It left him drained and weak in his knees.

Without much power, he pulled you to your feet again.

"Shit. What have you done to me, woman?" He shook his head lightly as a tired smile spread across his lips.

Simon loves quickies with you. But he loves your long sessions even more.

He loves to please you in every physical way he knows. Fill every hole you want him to. Paint your skin with his cum. Try new things with you. Oh, how he loves to try new things with you.

It wasn't much, but you had requested for him to wear his uniform once. Simon didn't think much of it. Until he felt how much it turned you on. To see him clad in his tactical gear (without all the weapons, of course), his face hidden beneath a black balaclava, gloves soaked with your juices.

Even when he was about to fuck you, you shook your head no, when he was about to take off his gear. To his suprise, it turned him on as well. The way the fabric bound around his body as he moved. You laid completely naked before him. Simon stood at the end of his bed, bending over you. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the matress. He settled between your legs and slid his cock into you.

He fucked you mercilessly. He held you down with a hand on your hip and the other holding your wrists above your head. It was hot. And definitely not the last time Simon fucked you while wearing his gear.

Sometimes, Simon pulls you aside just to kiss you. He keeps saying it just to rile you up. Buuut....you felt something else was the reason for his affection.

You had yet to figure it out. Or wait for him to tell you🫢

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 9

skinny dipping - hinata shoyo x reader

word count: 772

kinktober masterlist

Every day was new and exciting if you were dating Hinata Shoyo.

He was a wildcard. With his flaming orange hair, million dollar smile, and stars in his eyes, he could convince you to do pretty much anything with him, no matter how absurd it was. That included getting into a pool and slowly shedding your bathing suits until you were naked in the water, bodies pressing into each other while they floated in the cold.

You would have never agreed to this in a million years, but Shoyo was a very convincing person. Something about the pool being isolated, access granted to only a select few premium hotel guests, and it being nearly 1 in the morning. There was a single light turned on near the entrance to the pool, while the rest were all turned off. It casted soft shadows over you and Shoyo, and that helped you relax a little and slightly forget about your fear of getting caught.

The second factor to your relaxation was two of Shoyo’s fingers buried knuckle deep in you.

You let out a breathy moan into his mouth, one leg wrapped around his bare torso while the other floated freely. The water would have been completely still if it weren’t for the fingers moving inside you, resulting in little ripples following up Shoyo’s arm and breaking through the surface. The cold water muted some of the sensations, but there was no mistaking how good and warm Shoyo felt against you, and how his fingers were persistently pressing into your spongy core.

“Shoyo, more.” You managed to choke out, clawing at his shoulders. He was single handedly holding you afloat in the water at this point, his fingers leaving your pussy at your request and replacing it with something bigger, harder, and way, way thicker.

You would never get used to him, to the stretch of your protesting walls as he forced himself into you. Shoyo was girthy, and no matter how much you prepped, it still burned when he penetrated you. And you loved it dearly. It knocked the breath out of you everytime, including now, even though the water somehow worked to soothe you, surrounding you like a blanket.

Shoyo pushed you back a little until you made contact with the wall of the pool behind you, both of his hands gripping the pool edge in preparation. He made eye contact with you and smiled so softly that your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed. Even in the cold of the water, the love in Shoyo’s smile made your insides simmer with warmth.

“Hold on to me.” He whispered, as if telling you a secret.

And you did. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as he began moving in you, as hard and as fast as the water would allow. The shiny surface of it broke around you at Shoyo’s harsh movements, waves rippling away from you and moving down all the way to the other end of the pool. You dropped your head back, resting it on the edge of the pool, the warm cement a stark contrast to the water around you, eyes closing as you focused solely on the pull and drag of Shoyo’s cock, brushing every spot in your walls that drove you insane. Your legs tensed and bent on their own, thighs framing Shoyo’s slim waist and digging into his sides. He hummed and ran a thick stripe over your neck with his tongue, drawing a sigh out of you at the sensation.

Your wet hand dug itself into Shoyo’s even wetter hair, holding on for dear life as you buried your face into his neck, tasting the salt on his skin, a mixture of his sweat and the pool water, biting gently into the muscle until he groaned. Your pussy tightened and squeezed around him as he forced his way into you over and over, your core tightening with every sloppy thrust.

“I’m gonna cum.” He announced, voice sounding shaky and frantic. Your arms tightened around him.

“Me too, baby.” You kissed him, long and hard, moaning into his mouth as your orgasm hit you, slow waves building inside you and coming to a climax, softly luring you to your end, firing up every fiber of your body in a way only Shoyo could. You felt his hips stutter before he finally buried himself deep in you, warmth spilling into you and his cock throbbing frantically inside you as he moaned his way through his own orgasm, before finally stilling.

The gentle lap of the water faded seconds after Shoyo had stopped, leaving you to bask in the quiet of the pool. The only sounds were your little breaths, and the soft smack of your lips against each other, tongues running over each other’s mouths, still tasting each other in the desperate way you often did, not getting enough, never getting enough.

You had never thought possible to be so in love with a man.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel l @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[hoernypie]

⋆｡˚ moonlight magic ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

tags: public, p+v, creamp!e

wc: 1972

Suguru and I had been planning this vacation for months, eager to escape the stressful missions and life of jujutsu sorcerers, allowing ourselves to immerse in the peacefulness of the countryside. The cottage, nestled by the tranquil lake, was a charming retreat that promised peace and relaxation after all our stress. We arrived just as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the calm waters. After unpacking our bags and preparing a simple dinner, we stepped out onto the porch to breathe in the crisp night air, the gentle hum of cicadas our only company. The full moon, a luminous orb in the velvet sky, reflected on the lake's surface, turning it into a shimmering mirror of silver light. The thought of a night walk to explore the area was too tempting to resist, so we laced up our shoes and set off into the quiet embrace of the surrounding woods.

"I hate when they cry", I huffed as we walked slowly. "Who's cry?" Suguru asked confused, his eyes searching the darkened woods with a hint of concern. I chuckled, squeezing his upper arm. "The cicadas." He listened intently for a moment, before snorting. We continued our stroll, the moonlight guiding our path.

As we walked deeper into the woods, the sound of the cicadas grew faint, replaced by the rhythmic rustling of leaves beneath our feet. The air grew cooler, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Suguru, kept a watchful eye on our surroundings, while I drowned in the beauty of the moonlit landscape. Our laughter echoed through the trees as we pointed out peculiar shapes in the shadows cast by the silvery beams. Suddenly, the serenity was pierced by an unmistakable splash from the lake. We froze, our hearts pounding in sync with the night's rhythm. Curiosity piqued, we cautiously approached the water's edge, our eyes scanning the now-disturbed surface for any sign of what had caused the disturbance.

"Suguru... Do you think it's a good idea to stay here?" I asked with a worry in my voice, looking at the ripples that distorted the moon's reflection. Suguru looked at me, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Let's just check it out," he whispered, taking a step closer to the lake. The water remained still, but the silence felt heavier as if the night itself was holding its breath. "No, no! Please don't check, it's how people die in horror movies!" I whined looking up to see his face.

Ignoring my pleas for caution, Suguru pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight to scan the lake. The beam of light danced across the water, revealing the silhouettes of trees and rocks on the other side. Then, it caught something moving, something large and unmistakable. "It's just a loon," he said with a chuckle, the tension vanishing from his shoulders. The bird, having realized it was no longer hidden, let out a call before diving back into the water. "See?" He turned to me, flashing a reassuring smile. "It's just nature doing its thing." "Stupid bird", I huffed when we sat on the fallen tree trunk, "I almost saw the pearly gates."

With our hearts still racing from the unexpected encounter with the loon, we shared a nervous laugh. The adrenaline rush brought us closer together, and we found ourselves leaning into each other, our eyes locking in the soft moonlight. The air grew thicker, charged with a new kind of energy. Before I could protest, Suguru leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, his hand gently cradling the back of my neck. The kiss was slow and tender, starkly contrasting to the chaotic world we had left behind. We made out, our breaths mingling in the cool night air, the moon casting a gentle glow on our faces. For a moment, we forgot about the monsters and curses of our daily lives, lost in the tranquility of the countryside and the warmth of each other's embrace. The lake's surface stilled once more, reflecting our silhouettes as we deepened our kiss, the only sound the distant whisper of the breeze playing with the leaves above us.

Our kiss grew more passionate as we let go of our carefulness, the stress of our lives melting away with each tender brush of our lips. Suguru's hand slid down to hold my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm as we breathed in unison. The moon, our silent witness, cast a soft, ethereal light over us, painting our skin in a silver glow. Time stood still as we savored this moment of intimacy, the serenity of the lake a contrast to the intense passion we shared. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves while we kept whispering sweet nothings to ourselves, getting lost in the pure feeling.

As our kiss intensified, the desire to be even closer consumed us. Suguru's hands found the hem of my shirt, gently lifting it over my head, revealing the moon's glow on my bare skin. Our lips never parted, as he worked his way down, his kisses leaving a trail of heat along my neck and collarbone. His touch was tender and exploratory as if discovering me for the first time. In return, my fingers traced the firm lines of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. With a soft murmur, I helped him remove it, our bodies pressing together in the warm night air. The moon, still high in the sky, bathed us in its soft light as we slowly undressed each other, our clothes discarded like leaves on the forest floor. Our kisses grew deeper, more insistent, as our bodies melded together. Without a word, Suguru swept me up into his arms, the sudden movement sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes, gleaming with playful mischief, met mine as he stepped into the lake, the water cool against my skin. "What are you doing?" I gasped, but the laughter in his voice was contagious, and soon I found myself giggling as he walked further in. "I've always wanted to do this," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine as the water reached our waists. The moon's reflection shimmered around us, casting a glow on our faces as we kissed once more, the cold water contrasting the heat between us. Our bodies moved in sync as he held me, the gentle current of the lake swaying us back and forth around our bodies. It felt like a moment of pure bliss, making our kisses grow more passionate with each passing second. The world outside the cottage, the missions and curses, all felt a lifetime away as we shared this moment.

Suguru's strong arms tightened around me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to maintain balance. His hands explored my bare skin, sending waves of pleasure through me, and I gasped as he found my hardened nipples, teasing them with his thumbs. Suguru's hands continued to explore my body, his palms cupping my breasts with a gentle yet firm touch. He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the sensation sending electric jolts of pleasure through my core. I moaned into his mouth, my hips rocking against his growing arousal.

Suguru broke the kiss, his gaze dropping to my chest. He kissed a path down my neck, his hands moving now to fully embrace my breasts. His mouth found my nipple which he sucked gently at first, then with increasing pressure before flicking his tongue against the sensitive peak. I gasped when his tongue sent waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped his hair before he switched to the other one, giving it equal attention as his teeth grazed it. The water around us grew choppy as our movements grew more urgent. Suguru's mouth left my breasts to kiss back my neck, leaving hickeys while his hands guided me to straddle him more firmly. I could feel the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance, and the anticipation was killing me. He bit my neck as he pushed just the tip of his dick inside me, the cold water of the lake rippling around us. My walls clenched around him as he stopped, savoring the feeling.

Biting his bottom lip, Suguru pushed his dick in one swift move, his tip hitting my cervix and sending a wave of pleasure mixed with pain that filled my body. My moan echoed through the quiet night, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest and the occasional splash of water. His movements grew more desperate, the water around us splashing with his rhythm. Each thrust sent a jolt of glee through me, my nails digging into his shoulders as I held on tightly. Our kisses grew more desperate with our lips crashing into each other while we chased the pleasure. Suguru's hands gripped my hips as he buried himself deeper with each powerful stroke. With each passing moment, his strokes grew more powerful and desperate, his grip on my hips tightening, almost bruising my skin. My body was on fire, the pain from Suguru's fingers digging into my soft skin was sending me closer to the edge. I could hear his muffled breaths growing ragged against my neck which was now covered with hickeys and bite marks.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted against my neck, his hips moving quicker and more forcefully beneath me. "I can feel every inch of you," he groaned, his teeth grazing my earlobe before biting down gently. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice ragged. My breaths grew shallow, my body trembling as I approached climax, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke when he hit my sweet spot. The overwhelming pleasure filled my body, my pussy clenching tightly around his dick as I mewled out his name, looking at him with glossy eyes, before he pushed his dick inside me, making me squirt all over him. The warm liquid spurted between us, mixing with the cool lake water as my pussy clenched tightly around his cock. "Fuck, yes," he murmured, his grip on my hips bruising as he held me in place, his cock pulsing deep inside me. His thrusts grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he chased his own release. "You're going to milk me dry," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Look at me," he demanded, squishing my cheeks and pulling my face closer to his. "Look at me as I fill your pussy." I looked up, my eyes locking with his as his strokes grew more intense, his words of how good it felt only heightened my sensitivity. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he moaned before his warm cum filled me, my pussy greedily gripping his cock as he emptied himself inside me.

Suguru didn't stop moving his hips as he came, his cock pushing deeper with each spurt of cum that filled me up. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his eyes hooded with pleasure. "Your pussy is so tight, it's like it's made for me." We stayed like that for a moment, his lips leaving soft kisses on bite marks and hickeys that he left on me. The only sound was the quiet lapping of the lake water against our skin. I held him tightly, our hearts racing, as our shallow breaths filled the silence. The moon's light reflected off the water around us, a silent witness to our passion. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he spoke softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And it was worth every second of waiting." I smiled, my cheeks flushed, knowing that this was just the beginning of a week filled with us going wild.