#this is bingos walking stick

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[mismatched-sockss]

Getting lost in your touch

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!Reader » Word count: 4,7k » Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, minimal amount of plot with a dash of fluff, established relationship (married), sub!Spencer and softdom!reader in the beginning, switch Spencer and reader, reader is a little bratty at one point ig, both a little mean for a short moment, dry humping, begging, riding / cockwarming, teasing, handjob, nipple play, hand on throat but no choking, biting, unprotected p in v, creampie, pet names (my love, baby); bad writing? not sure how i feel about parts of this; » A/N: finally done! took me long enough lol; written with postprison!Spencer in mind, but feel free to imagine what ever season / era you prefer, there is no timeline stuff or anything mentioned (only being in a relationship for six years); at first i didn't want to do more than two bingo fields per fic, but i'm afraid i won't get far if i stick to that :D, didn't think i would be this slow when i started, but sometimes my brain hates me; please let me know if i forgot any warnings; enjoy!

⚶ bingo masterlist | masterlist ⚶

The sound of the door falling shut made you jump out of your skin and you spilled some of the iced tea you were pouring yourself. “Shit”, you cursed in a whisper. You put the container down and grabbed a kitchen towel to clean up the mess so the counter wouldn't get sticky.

Except for the muffled thud of a bag falling to the floor and shoes getting kicked off, the apartment stayed silent. This, paired with the force the door had been closed, you already knew what you would find when you'll walk into the living room and your heart sank at the thought.

You quickly drank the small bit that had actually found its way into the glass and hurried out of the kitchen. The sight you were met with, was exactly what you had imagined. Your husband sat on the couch, leaning over with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders hanging low. Your heart hurt for him, seeing him like this. It wasn't a sight you were met with every time he came home, but it happened often enough as it was.

You slowly walked over and when you were close enough you reached out, brushing your fingertips through Spencer's hair. “Hey”, you breathed out, moving your hand over the back of his neck and to his shoulder where you let it rest.

He slowly lifted his head, a tired smile on his lips that didn't nearly reach his eyes. “Hey....” His hand reached for yours on his shoulder and he held on to your wrist, drawing soft circles over your pulse with his thumb. For a minute neither of you said a word and you just looked into each others eyes.

You lifted your other hand to cup his cheek and gently brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch and with a shaky breath Spencer laid his hands on your hips, pulling you between his legs so he could bury his head in you chest, hiding away from all the cruelty of this world he had to face every day. You hugged him close, one hand tangled in the curls on the back of his head and you softly scratched over his scalp with your nails.

“That bad?”, you asked softly. He silently nuzzled his head deeper into you, his arms tightening around your waist with his hands bunching up the back of your tank top in his fists. This was answer enough; you wouldn't pry any further if he didn't want to talk about it right now. You leaned your head down, pressing your lips to the crown of his head and kept them there.

For a moment the both of you just stayed like this, silent and in each others embrace, as you tried to hold him together, tried to shield him from harm – even if only from his own mind and the painful memories – as best as you could. After a while the tension in his shoulders started to leave under your touch, his muscles slowly relaxing as you softly rubbed your hand over his back and a deeps sigh left his lips.

Spencer's hold on you loosened and he moved his hands up and back down over your sides, gently squeezing your waist then. He turned his head and started to plant kiss after kiss on your chest. His nose was pressed flat against your skin as he slowly worked his way over the hem of your top and your décolleté, up to your collarbones.

Your breath hitched and your heart began to beat faster, your skin getting warmer with every kiss.

He leaned back and pulled you with him onto the couch by your waist, keeping his lips on your skin and as he moved, he continued leaving open mouthed kisses higher and higher over the side of your neck until he reached your jaw.

As soon as you lowered yourself on his thighs, straddling his hips, you turned your head to capture his lips in a passionate yet gentle kiss. You moved your hands to the back of his head and tangled your fingers in his hair, slightly tugging on the strands which made him groan in return.

With a deep inhale you pulled back just enough that your noses were almost touching, your hands on the sides of his neck right under his ears and you could feel his steady heart beat. Your fingers were buried in his hair and you played with the strands at the base of his head.

“What do you need, baby?”, you asked him, keeping your voice low; soft and sweet. When he answered you, he did so immediately and before you even had said the final word. He matched your volume, and only said one single word:

“You.”

With a small smile on your lips you brushed the tip of your nose against his, gently nudging it. “I know, my love”, you cooed and kissed his lips. “How do you need me?” You slightly leaned back so you could see his whole face. Spencer just looked at you, not saying a word, only darting his gaze between your eyes.

The look in his eyes almost brought you to tears. Vacant of the usual light shimmering in his big brown eyes, they almost seemed dull and empty. Instead helplessness had taken its place. So lost, heartbroken and full of sorrow.

Tears started to well up in Spencer's eyes, gathering on his lower lashes until a single tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek. You gently took his face in your hands and stroked your thumbs over his skin, brushing the tear away.

It broke your heart to see your husband like this. His job was more than hard, so incredibly challenging and demanding on both his body and mind. He didn't tell you much about what he had to deal with, only occasionally opening up more when he needed to get it off his chest, when it got too much. Even then he didn't get in to it too deeply, wanting to spare you the gruesome details. You already knew enough as it was; fiction – all those crime and cop shows or movies – didn't paint the best picture compared to reality, but you had consumed your fair share of true crime in your lifetime. So even if you couldn't imagine how he was feeling exactly and what kind of toll it really took out on him, you could imagine what he was seeing.

Trying to keep your own tears at bay as you were hurting for and with him, you closed your eyes and kissed his forehead. You let your lips linger before you pulled back again.

“Want me to take care of you?” You slightly tilted Spencer's head back and planted a small kiss on his lips, then a second one. “Nice and slow? That what you want?”

“Please...” His voice broke and there were so many emotions behind this one word, so much hurt and want and need and desperation. So much love for you and trust in you.

You kissed him again, firmer this time and breathed out an okay against his lips as you looked deep in his eyes. “I've got you, baby.”

With a relieved sigh that sounded a lot like thank you he relaxed more into your touch and sank deeper into the back of the couch. Your lips immediately attached to his again and his hands moved over your back to pull you even closer until your chest was pressed flush against his.

While deepening the kiss, you moved your hands down his neck and to his chest, then up to his shoulders and under his suit jacket. You pushed it over his shoulders and helped him to take it off, more or less carelessly throwing it to the other side of the couch. Before you went on to loosen his tie, you pressed your fingertips into the muscles of the crook of his neck and shoulders, kneading the tense tissue for a short moment and took a mental note when he hummed in content to give him a proper massage later.

The knot of his tie opened up with one tug, but you didn't care to fully remove it and started to undo the small buttons of his dress shirt. As soon as you had worked your way down a few you broke the kiss, leaving you both panting and gasping for air, and planted soft kisses along his jaw.

Spencer let his head fall back, giving you more space to make your way down his neck. He took in a sharp breath when he felt your teeth grazing over is collarbone. You gently nibbled on his skin, flattening your tongue over it to soothe the spot. When you opened the last button you let your hands glide over his stomach up to his chest, pushing his shirt to the sides.

You caught his lips again and you felt him getting hard under you; after slightly adjusting your position, you started grinding against him in a slow and steady rhythm. Both of you moaned into each other's mouths at the contact and he slid his hands down your back until they lay on your ass; he gently squeezed the soft flesh and pulled your hips closer. You could feel how wet you were as your clit effortlessly slid over the fabric, your panties already soaked and you had barely started.

For a while you just moved with and against each other – grinding, touching, kissing – before you let your hands wander down with a purpose. The rattling of his belt buckle as you opened it didn’t even reach your ears, drowned out by the soft whimpering moans that left Spencer’s throat.

With his help you managed to pull his pants down enough so you could wrap your hand around his erection, eliciting a groan from him. “Oh, fuck.”

You began to stroke his cock with slow movements, taking your time with every pump of your fist. Every whimper, every small whine, shot waves of heat through your body and right to your core. You desperately wanted to finally feel him in you, but you held back. Your plan was to take it slow; you promised him slow.

And if he had taught you one thing, it was to hold back. You could hear his voice in the back of your head, purring in the sweetest tone every time he drove you crazy with endless teasing: “Patience is a virtue, my love.” You wondered if Spencer would regret it – even just a tiny bit – by the time you were done with him tonight.

It didn't take long before he buried his face in your shoulder, panting and moaning against you neck as he held on to your hips with a tight grip. "Need to be inside you", he sighed, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

You hummed with a smile on your lips. “Let's get you more comfortable first, hm?”

Before you got up from his lap, you gave his cock a few more pumps and swiped the pad of your thumb over his head; his hips jolted up and he groaned.

A small laugh in adoration left your lips and you pressed your lips against his jaw for a quick peck. You shuffled back and got up, bringing him with you by his hands and after he shrug off his shirt you took his hand again and led him to the bedroom.

Spencer got on the bed and sat against the headboard after a tilt of your head, taking off his pants before he settled down. You took off your own, your top already discarded somewhere on the floor in the living room, leaving you in only your bra now.

You crawled over the bed to take your spot in his lap again, only this time you weren't separated by too many layers of fabric when your pussy met his cock; your lips parting over his shaft as if to invite him in.

“Fuck- you're so wet."

"All for you, baby. Always."

His hands found their way to your hips; you lifted them and reached down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Painfully slow you sank back down again, trying to prolong him filling you up for as long as possible. Breathy moans leaving both your throats, the sensation almost overwhelming.

Spencer tried to guide you down faster with his hold on your hips, but you stopped instead and shook your head in disapproval – yet still with a smile on your lips – as you pulled his hands from your body. A soft whimper left his lips, but when he nodded you let go of his hands and sank down further until he was buried in your core to the hilt.

You parted your legs further, taking his cock even deeper; a short breathy moan left your lips when his full length was buried in your walls, your clit brushing deliciously against his pelvis.

Instead of starting to lift your hips, you stayed just as you were, only moving your hips in a slow grind a couple of times – barely noticeable. You leaned in to press your chest against his and captured his lips in a heated kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, not leaving a single inch of your skin untouched. Only when he cupped your breasts over the fabric and gently squeezed them did you break the kiss. He pulled the cup of your bra down, latching his lips immediately around your exposed nipple.

With a soft moan you watched him and reached behind you to unclasp your bra; it landed by the rest of your discarded clothes. You tangled your fingers in Spencer's hair and slightly tugged on the strands to pull him back and face you again.

For a moment you just let your gaze wander over his face until you stopped at his mouth. This time when you leaned in to kiss him, it wasn't as desperate as the last one; but slow and almost gentle, pouring all your love into it.

And after what felt like an eternity to him, he couldn't take it anymore and he pulled back. "Please, baby, I- Ah, fuck, I need you to move."

"But I am moving", you trailed off, voice as sweet as sugar, and barely holding back a smirk. You ground against him, in just the slightest movement and to underline your claims more, you let your hands wander over his chest and stomach; fingertips sliding became nails softly scratching over the skin the deeper you went. Spencer arched his back into you, goosebumps rising on his skin.

"Ah- you know what I mean", he said breathless, his eyelids fluttering as he held your gaze.

Feigning to think about it you hummed, moving your hands from where your bodies met to his sides, careful not to tickle him. “Do you mean... like this then?” You smiled innocently, stayed seated and intentionally clenched around him once.

He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned loudly, his hips jolting up so hard and sudden, you had to hold on to his sides to not lose your balance.

"I swear to god, if you don't start moving soon, I-", he hissed before he stopped to swallow hard, but he didn't finish vocalizing his threat; the pleading tone in his voice had changed, turning deep and hoarse – assertive –, adding to the fire that was burning brighter and brighter in his eyes. The promise of an inevitable payback for your bitter-sweet torment still on his tongue, but he didn't need to say it out loud for you to know and understand.

You bit on the tip of your tongue, again smiling innocently at him but barely concealing your amusement. "What happens then?”, you inquired, knowing, it would rile him up even more. “Now you've made me curious."

"Come on, please. Want to feel you." There it was again, the whiny, pleading and breathless tone you couldn't get enough of.

To be honest, you had to hold back quite a bit by now, wanted nothing more than to satisfy his wish and ride him until the both of you were falling apart, but teasing him was just too much fun, too tempting; and you also knew, all of this would help to take his mind off of everything a bit longer, which was still your main goal.

You leaned in to kiss him. When he raised his chin and tried meeting you half way, you slightly pulled back again, just out of reach. The prettiest sound fell from his lips, a whimper all needy and desperate and whiny; his grip on your hips became firmer and his nails were digging into your skin as he tried pulling you impossibly closer, trying to bury himself deeper into your warmth. At this rate, there would be some pretty bruises on your hips by tomorrow morning.

When you leaned back in, your lips were barely touching the corner of his mouth. You left a feathery kiss after the other along his jaw and moved your hands over his chest to hold on to his shoulders, indicating you would give him what he wanted from you, what he was begging for.

The grin that stretched your lips was a little taunting, a little mean, when he let his head fall back with a whimper on his lips and his hands dug even deeper into your flesh. Oh, Spencer will hate you for what you were about to do...

You gently grazed your teeth on his jaw, softly nibbling on the skin and slowly raised your hips all the way, then slid down his length just as slow. His breath hitched, shaking. His jaw went slack and you watched as Spencer's eyes rolled back, a deep and long moan leaving his lips. When you repeated the motion for a second time, he relaxed more against the headboard and closed his eyes.

You did it a third time.

And then you stopped.

Spencer's head snapped back up as soon as he realised you wouldn't keep going. The look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine and when your walls clenched this time, you didn't do it on purpose. The tight grip on his cock and the fact that you were biting down on your lip to keep from smirking at him, failing to contain the giggle bubbling up in your throat at the same time, made him sit back up straight and wrap his arms around your; his hands spreading over your shoulder blades and lower back. You saw a glint flash in his eyes, saw the moment a switch flipped in him and you felt giddy with excitement.

You squealed when he flipped you over without a warning and you giggled harder, which quickly turned to a moan when he buried his face in the crook of your neck and bit into the flesh. Another moan right after, high-pitched, when he snapped his hips hard against yours in just one quick hard thrust. You wrapped your arms around is torso, clinging onto his shoulders.

“So you think that's funny, huh?”

“Uh-hu”, you sighed out near his ear with a smile on your lips, panting.

He lifted himself up, supporting his weight by leaning on his arm next to your head, and slid his right hand up your body; from the spot he had gripped into your hips just moments before, over your side and stomach, your sternum and higher until his palm was on your throat. You tilted your head back, making more room for his hand and you swallowed hard, waiting for his next move; heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting and hoping for the familiar gentle squeeze on the sides of your neck and his fingers pressing into the delicate skin.

With a tight grip on your jaw Spencer pulled your head back to face him. He cocked his eyebrow when he saw you pout, a taunting smirk starting to form on his lips. He nodded his head and pursed his lips, before the smirk came back. “I'll show you funny.”

Your stomach flipped and your heart started pounding in your chest, threatening to crack out of your ribcage. Fuck. You should have known he would turn it around and play it like that. You had it coming, really.

He leaned back and sat up, perching on his heels as he wrapped your legs around him and kept a firm hold on the insides of your thighs; angling his hips just right, he stared to lazily roll his hips, hitting right at the first thrust that spot deep in you that made you see stars.

Both of you moaned in unison and you watched him close his eyes, his head fell back; relishing the sensations of finally being able to thrust into you. That blissed out look on his face was almost enough to send you over the edge right this moment.

He kept the slow pace for a while, but you needed more, growing more impatient with every drag of his cock against your walls. “Faster... please”, you whined.

Spencer chuckled and looked down at you. “Aw, can't handle what you are dishing out, baby?”, he mocked with a playful tone in his voice. You simply shook your head, pouting and soft whimpers leaving your lips. Despite the allusion that he wouldn't do it, he picked up the pace, snapping his hips harder and faster against yours.

As he bend down to lean over you he let go of your thighs; his right hand stayed on you and slid higher over your skin until he cupped your breast – gently massaging and playing with your nipple – and his left landed next to you, so he could hold himself up. His lips latched on to your other breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it.

The added stimulation set your body even more on fire and your walls clenched around his cock; that familiar knot in your stomach began to build and tighten rapidly, making you feel a little dizzy already. “'mso close...”, you moaned breathless.

With a last lick over the hardened peak, he lifted his head and caught your eyes. “Yeah? You wanna cum?” You nodded eagerly, holding his gaze. “What if I don't let you?”, he mused with a one sided smirk.

“No. No, please- I- ah fuck”, you started to babble, slightly panicked, “I-I- need to cum so bad, please, please let me cum! Wanna cum for you, Spencer.”

He caught your lips in a kiss and slid his tongue between them when you gasped, too distracted to notice his hand letting go of your breast and moving between your bodies, his fingers quickly finding your clit.

It didn't take long before you weren't able to kiss him back, moaning against his mouth instead as your jaw went slack. “Oh fuck, yes, like that. Like that, don't stop. Ah, shit!”

Your back arched into him and you threw your head back, deeper into the pillows, as your vision got white and your orgasm hit you, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Spencer didn't give you much time to come down from your high. He buried his face in your neck and slid his arms under your back, holding you in a tight grip to him.

Your eyes rolled back, nothing but strangled noises leaving you and you held on to him as if your life depended on it as he pounded into you at a brutal pace now, chasing his own release. The bed-frame was creaking from the force and if you would care, you might be worried that it would break.

Right before it got too much for you, your body slowly protesting against the continued stimulations and was screaming for a break, his rhythm faltered and with a couple of last hard thrusts he held onto you even tighter.

“F-fuck!” A long and deep groan left his lips, muffled by your neck, as his hips stilled and he kept himself buried as deep as he could in your core as he came, his cock twitching with every wave of cum, his body shuddering as he collapsed above you.

After a minute or two for you to catch your breaths, Spencer turned his head to plant a lingering kiss below your ear and lifted himself up just enough to slide down your body – pulling out in the process and you gasped at the sudden emptiness; with an exhausted sigh he settled down, his head comfortably resting on your chest and his arms pressed to your sides, softly stroking his thumbs over the sensitive skin above your waist.

You hummed in content and tangled the fingers of your right hand in his hair, slightly dampened now, and placed your left hand on his arm, drawing circles with your thumb on his skin of your own. He hummed, relaxing even more against you as you played with his hair.

He moved his arm to take your left hand, holding it in his, resting both your hands on your stomach. Lost in his thoughts he let his thumb glide over your ring finger, moving the filigree silver ring around.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked in a soft voice.

For a moment he kept silently playing with the ring on your finger, then he pulled your hand closer to him, pressing a kiss over your wedding band. Your heart skipped a beat at the sweet gesture, a small smile stretching on your lips. His lips lingered for a few seconds before he laid your intertwined hands back on your stomach. Spencer turned his head to look at you and lifted himself up to lean on his forearm. You moved your hand out of his hair, to the back of his neck instead, when he came closer.

His eyes darted back and forth between yours and you let out an almost inaudible sigh, relieved when you met his gaze and saw the look in his eyes was a lot softer than when he had come home, the light was back in them, and his features were more relaxed. “Better.”

He shifted his weight and moved up to close the distance. A small smile stretched on his lips as he hovered over you. He let go of your left hand and cupped your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair and he stroked his thumb over your cheek.

“I love you”, he breathed out before he captured your lips in a slow and deep kiss that made your heart flutter and sent a wave of butterflies through your whole body.

Six years with this man and he still made you feel like this; all giddy and blushing, kicking your feet and twirling your hair around your finger, toes curling with even the smallest kiss and brush of his lips against yours, heart skipping a beat every time you saw him and endless butterflies fluttering in your stomach that never calmed down and would never die.

You sighed into the kiss and pulled him closer, melting into him as much as he melted into you. When the kiss broke, Spencer didn't move too far away. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, pressed his lips to yours again for a quick kiss and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

“I love you too”, you whispered and tilted your head slightly to plant another kiss on his lips. With a smile he lifted his head and for a moment you just looked at each other, drowning in the others eyes.

You lifted your hand and brushed a strand of his curls behind his ear, the tips of your fingers moving over his temple in a feathery light touch. “Why don't we order some food, get cleaned up in the meantime and then just stay on the couch, cuddle and watch a movie or something. Your pick.”

“Food or TV?”

“Both. What ever you want, love.”

» A/N 2: we're getting closer but my bingo card is kind of all over the place, will we ever see a filled line before the deadline? :'D

[bigification]

Beach Bears

The cold water felt good on my feet as the waves washed in and out. The sun warmed my skin as I stood at the edge of the beach. It was finally summer, the season where the ladies pull out their bikinis and I get to show off all the hard work I put into my abs over the winter. I finally got to wear my new orange speedo, it was a little big but the drawstring made it so it wouldn't fall down. It still showed off my ass well so I didn't care. I tried to convince my friend Leo to get a speedo too but he was hesitant. Although he did get a short pair of swim shorts, so he'll still be able to show off for the ladies.

"C'mon Leo, let's go already!" I yelled, waiting for my friend to join me in the water.

"Ya ya I'm coming!" He yelled back as he ran towards me.

We both slowly walked into the water together, it was cold but refreshing. We stopped just as the water reached our upper thigh, working up the courage to go deeper. In the meantime, I looked around to see if we had any catches nearby.

"Bingo!" I said to Leo as I tapped his shoulder. "Right there. Red bikinis." I pointed at two ladies swimming nearby.

"Slow down man, they're like ten years older than us. No way they want us around." Leo hesitated.

"Dude, were like almost 20, were basically adults. Just follow my lead." I said as I dragged towards the two women.

"Hey ladies. Need company to keep you warm?" I said, trying to lower my voice to sound smooth.

The women looked at each other and giggled quietly. One of them slowly walked up to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Why don't you two go a little deeper. We're gonna get some sunscreen and we'll be right back." She said as she softly slid her hand down my arm. She then brushed her hand across my cheek and over my mouth. It left a sweet taste in my lips. I saw the other woman do the same to Leo as they started to swim back to the shore.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" I said excitedly to Leo. He smiled back at me and we both went deeper to wait for the ladies to come back.

I laid on my back, floating on the surface of the water. My head was turning with all of the things I should say, or the things I should do when they come back. I didn't even notice myself mentally drifting away. It was getting harder to think, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. I felt comfortable as a warm sensation filled my body.

As I was floating, I turned my head to face Leo. It looked like he was mindlessly floating like I was, but something seemed off. His belly is sticking out a bit. At first it just looked like he took a big breath in, but then it never flattened back out to his normal abs. In fact it just kept growing. It swelled until it looked like he ate a basketball. I could even see fat love handles spilling over his waist, acting as floating devices for his growing body. I should have been terrified, or at least curious about what was happening but something about it felt normal.

I continued to watch Leo change, I felt mesmerized and paralyzed at the same time. His flat pecs grew into a pair of strong but soft pecs that complemented his gut. His once skinny and defined arms ballooned into strong biceps, and thick man hands. His legs and his ass plumped a lot too, making it look like his swim shorts were about to burst. Even his feet looked like they grew six sizes.

I started to feel butterflies in my stomach. Like the feeling I get when I look at a hot woman, but I couldn't take my eyes off Leo. Finally, I watched his lovely hair fall out, leaving a bald head behind. Then his clean shaven face quickly grew a thick and bushy beard that covered the double chin that had formed under his face. His features seemed to roughen up, giving him the appearance of a tough man in his late thirties.

As I stared at Leo, I noticed I was struggling to stay afloat. My body was sinking and my head was barely above water. I usually have no trouble floating, why is my body sinking like a rock all of a sudden. I go to stand up, and something doesn't feel right. I could even touch the bottom before, now the water only reaches my chest when I stand up straight. I looked down, feeling the scruff of my beard rub against my chest. Wait... I don't have a beard, why do I have a beard. When I looked down, I noticed my chest sticking out much further than it usually does. My pecs were thick and padded, and my stomach had a thick layer of muscle but it was hidden under a layer of fat. My arms were massive, It made me feel so strong. My biceps were so thick that I had to spread my arms so they don't rub against my sides. My hands had gotten so thick, I felt like I could grip a basketball with one hand.

I started to walk towards Leo, as my mind began to feel less foggy. My memories started to come back to me. I had to stop and undo the strap on my speedo, because it felt like it was squeezing me to death. I think I'll need a new one anyway, this one felt like it was crushing my dick with every step. It also shocked me how much I had to spread my legs while walking, leg day has been paying off with these thick thighs but man is it annoying sometimes.

"Wake up, babe." I said to Leo as I shook him. He snorted a bit before jumping awake. "You look so cute when you wake up." I said as I leaned in for a kiss. I loved the fuzzy feeling of his beard rubbing against my lips. He always asks me if I'm okay with him growing out his beard but I'm always adamant that I love it, I don't think I'll ever let him shave it off.

I saw his cheeks turn a bit red from the compliment. He was always so easily flattered.

"We should go back and put on some sunscreen before you burn your head again." I said as I dragged him back to the shore.

I grabbed his hand as we got to the shore, Leo always had trouble with his balance with the waves hitting his feet. His balance gets worse the bigger his belly gets, not that I mind his belly though. I've made sure to feed him well ever since we started dating. That metabolism of his will give out one day and it'll be easier for me to fatten him up.

As we got to the beach, I heard a couple of girls giggling nearby. "You guys are so cute together!" One of them yelled out. Leo blushed and looked away, and I just gave them a wink as we walked back to our beach towels.

[amethystarachnid]

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part I

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Reader has stalkers and crazy fans, said stalker gets inside reader's apartment and Logan uses his claws on him

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies, just...maybe before days of future past?

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

You’ve always hated the idea of needing a bodyguard. It feels ridiculous, like some over-the-top celebrity diva move. But ever since your career skyrocketed, the tabloids won’t leave you alone. A role in a blockbuster film, a few chart-topping singles, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of you. The constant media frenzy, the “fans” who somehow know where you live, the paparazzi camping outside your apartment—it’s become too much. When the threatening letters started showing up, your manager insisted on hiring a bodyguard.

You rolled your eyes, argued, but eventually caved. You love your career, but you’re not an idiot. You know when things get dangerous.

So, here you are, pacing back and forth in your living room, waiting for the “best in the business” to show up. The guy your manager picked. No name, no details, just a reputation for getting the job done. Whatever that means.

You stop mid-step when the door opens. In walks a man who looks like he’s seen and survived more wars than any human being should. His hair is a wild mess, and the dark scruff on his face gives him a rugged, almost dangerous look. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built like someone who could easily break someone in half with his bare hands. He’s wearing a leather jacket, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal thick forearms that have clearly seen some action.

You blink, not expecting…well, this.

“You’re the bodyguard?” you ask, eyes sweeping over him. You were expecting someone in a suit, maybe with an earpiece and sunglasses. Not…a lumberjack biker.

He glances at you with piercing, slightly narrowed eyes. “Logan. And yeah, I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You cross your arms, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He gives a half-smirk, the kind that’s both infuriating and somehow annoyingly attractive. “Noted.”

There’s an awkward pause as he looks you up and down, assessing you in a way that makes you want to shrink under his gaze. “So, what’s the deal? You a princess or somethin’? 'Cause I gotta say, this gig doesn’t exactly scream 'royalty.'”

“I’m an actress, actually,” you respond with a touch of sarcasm. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

Logan’s unimpressed. He shrugs, clearly not the type to follow pop culture. “Nope.”

You’re not sure whether to be offended or relieved. On one hand, it’s nice not to be recognized. On the other hand, what rock has this guy been living under? You’re practically everywhere these days.

“You can Google me later,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “I guess I’ll just assume you’re qualified.”

“More than qualified,” he growls, his voice deep and gravelly, like it’s been dragged across the pavement. “I don’t do babysitting, but your manager was…insistent. Apparently, someone out there’s got a real interest in makin’ sure you don’t stick around long enough for the next season of whatever-you’re-in.”

You narrow your eyes at him, irritated by his attitude. “Well, lucky me, right? Having you around means I’ll definitely survive to make another movie.”

He smirks again, this time with more of an edge. “Keep that attitude up, and I’ll have you wishing they got to you first.”

You snort, because as gruff as he is, you’re not intimidated. “I bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

“I don’t do parties.”

“Shocking,” you deadpan, unable to stop yourself from throwing in a bit of sass.

Logan’s eyebrow twitches, but he seems more amused than annoyed by your attitude. “You’re gonna be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“Only if you deserve it,” you quip, sitting down on your couch and crossing your legs. “So, how does this work? Do you stand in the corner looking all broody while I go about my life? Or are you planning on following me everywhere like a lost puppy?”

He scoffs, taking off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. “You wish. I’m not here to play lapdog. I’m here to make sure no one tries to kill you. If that means following you around and making sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble than you’re worth, so be it.”

“Comforting,” you say dryly. “It’s nice to know you think I’m worth saving.”

Logan pauses, eyes locking with yours, and for a second, the air between you shifts. His gaze softens just a fraction, enough that you almost forget the gruff exterior. Almost.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you were,” he says, his tone quieter but no less intense.

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Well…thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Then he glances around your apartment. “You got security cameras?”

“Uh, yeah. Around the building,” you say, still trying to shake off the weird tension between you two.

“Good. I’ll check the perimeter. You stay put,” he orders, turning to leave.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I’ll just sit here quietly while my life’s in danger,” you call after him, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan stops at the door and looks over his shoulder with that damn smirk again. “I won’t.”

As he walks out, you can’t help but shake your head. This is going to be a long job.

The first couple of days with Logan are…interesting, to say the least. He’s always there, a constant shadow, but he’s not the hovering type. He gives you space, but you can feel his presence in the room, always alert, always watching. And the banter—well, that hasn’t stopped.

“You think you could maybe try not to look like you hate being here?” you ask one morning as you head out for a meeting with your agent.

Logan’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that signature scowl on his face. “This is my happy face.”

“Really? Because it looks a lot like your ‘I want to punch someone in the throat’ face.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling. “That’s pretty much the same face.”

You sigh dramatically, brushing past him. “Well, you’re really selling the ‘friendly bodyguard’ vibe.”

“Good thing I’m not here to be friendly,” he shoots back, falling into step beside you.

“Right. You’re just here to make sure I don’t die.”

“Exactly.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, but you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan looks at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, but I’m growing on you.”

“Debatable.”

But as you both walk out into the chaos of cameras, fans, and flashing lights, you realize he might be right.

The next few days pass in a blur of meetings, interviews, and public appearances. With Logan by your side, everything is under control. He’s always there—solid, unflinching, and frustratingly good at his job. You don’t feel a single ounce of fear when he’s around, but you do feel something else, something that keeps tightening between you two like a stretched wire.

It’s impossible not to notice how Logan moves, how his muscles flex under that leather jacket when he’s surveying a crowd, the quiet, simmering power in his stance. And then there are the looks. God, the looks he gives you. It’s subtle, but whenever you catch his eye, there’s this electric charge, a tension that wraps itself around you both, even if no one else in the room can feel it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though. At least, not out loud. It’s ridiculous. He’s older—way older—and this is supposed to be professional. You’re not some starry-eyed girl who’s going to fall for her bodyguard just because he’s dangerous and good-looking.

Right?

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. But the more time you spend with him, the harder it is to ignore. He’s just so there, so…Logan.

The rumors don’t help either.

It starts with a photo—just one. The paparazzi manage to catch Logan opening your car door, his hand on the small of your back as you slip inside. It’s a simple, professional gesture, but in the world of tabloids, it’s something else entirely. Within hours, the internet is flooded with headlines: Mysterious Man Seen With Actress Y/N! New Bodyguard or New Romance?

You laugh it off at first, but the rumors snowball. Suddenly, every gossip site is buzzing with theories. Logan’s too attractive to just be a bodyguard, they say. You’re spending too much time together. There are whispers about the age gap, about the “forbidden attraction.” Some tabloids get more imaginative—Logan: The Bad Boy Who Stole Y/N’s Heart? or Secret Fling with Older Bodyguard? Inside the Dangerous Romance.

“I can’t believe people are actually buying this,” you mutter, scrolling through a particularly ridiculous article.

Logan’s lounging on your couch, reading through a security report. He doesn’t even look up when he responds. “You’re famous. People’ll believe anything.”

“Yeah, but this?” You wave your phone at him, exasperated. “Secret romance? Seriously?”

Finally, he glances up, his expression unreadable. “You worried about it?”

You snort. “No. It’s just insane. People will say anything for clicks.”

Logan’s silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. “It’s not that crazy, y’know.”

You freeze, your heart doing a weird little flip. “What’s not?”

He smirks, just a touch of amusement in his eyes. “You. Me. The rumors.”

Your mouth goes dry. “I—what?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “People see what they wanna see, darlin’. You’re young, successful, in the spotlight. They think you’re gonna fall for the first guy that gives you a little danger, a little excitement.”

You narrow your eyes, heat prickling at your skin. “And you think you give me that?”

Logan’s smirk widens, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. “Don’t I?”

Your stomach twists in response. There’s no denying it—there’s something between you two, something you’ve been ignoring for days. Weeks, maybe. But hearing him say it, so casually, like it’s a fact you both already know, sends a rush of heat straight through you.

“Logan,” you start, trying to regain some control, “there’s nothing—”

“Yeah? You sure about that?” His voice is low, and suddenly the space between you feels smaller, like the room’s shrinking, the air thickening. He’s not even touching you, but it feels like he is, the weight of his presence pushing against every nerve in your body.

You swallow hard. “We—there’s an age gap.”

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, there is. Doesn’t seem to stop ‘em from talkin’, does it?”

“No, but—” You stop, frustrated, because what’s your argument here? That you’re not attracted to him? That you don’t spend half your nights thinking about what it would be like if he wasn’t just your bodyguard?

Logan stands, slowly, and you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. His sheer size makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. He moves closer, and your breath catches in your throat as he stops just in front of you.

“Thing is, people are gonna talk,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do. So, the way I see it, you got two choices. You keep fightin’ what’s happenin’, or…”

He pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips before slowly moving back up to meet your gaze.

“…you see where this goes.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. There’s no more pretending, no more banter to hide behind. The air is thick with everything you’ve been avoiding—the attraction, the tension, the unspoken desire that’s been crackling between you both since the moment you met.

You take a shaky breath, trying to think through the haze of want clouding your mind. “Logan, this is—this is complicated. We can’t just—”

“Why not?” His voice is rough, raw, like he’s barely holding himself back. “You’re not some kid. You know what you want. So do I.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his words, something primal that sends another surge of heat through you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity that makes it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

You try to hold on to logic, to the rational part of your brain that’s screaming at you to slow down. But when you meet his eyes, all dark and stormy, your resolve crumbles.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Logan murmurs, his voice so low it’s barely a whisper. His hand moves, just a fraction, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to pull you close. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because you can’t tell him that. You can’t say the words when your whole body is aching for something you know you shouldn’t want but can’t stop thinking about.

He steps closer, and the air between you crackles with the kind of tension that makes your skin tingle. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

Your pulse races. Every rational thought, every reason you’ve been telling yourself not to cross this line, fades into the background. All you can think about is him—his scent, his presence, the way his body radiates heat like a furnace.

“Logan…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

That’s all it takes.

In one swift movement, he closes the distance between you, his large hands finding your waist as he pulls you against him. The world tilts, and before you can think, before you can breathe, his lips are on yours—hot, demanding, and absolutely relentless.

You gasp against his mouth, but it’s lost in the kiss, in the way he takes control, his grip firm but careful, as though he’s been holding himself back for weeks and now there’s no stopping it. He tastes like whiskey and danger, and the moment his tongue brushes against yours, your knees threaten to give out.

You don’t even realize your hands are in his hair until you’re pulling him closer, pressing against him as if you can’t get enough. The kiss is rough, intense, filled with every ounce of pent-up tension you’ve both been ignoring.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Still think it’s just rumors?” he growls, voice ragged.

You can’t speak. You just shake your head, fingers still tangled in his hair, your body flush against his.

Logan smirks, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Thought so.”

Just as you start to lose yourself in the heat of Logan’s kiss, a sharp, sudden beep cuts through the haze. It takes a second to register, but when you pull back slightly, you see Logan’s face shift—his entire body going rigid. His phone is vibrating in his jacket pocket.

The change in him is immediate. The heat, the softness, all of it hardens into something sharp and dangerous. He pulls away from you, grabbing his phone with a quick, practiced movement. You don’t get a chance to ask what’s happening because his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at the screen.

"Shit," he mutters, already moving toward the door.

“What’s going on?” You ask, heart still racing from a mix of adrenaline and confusion.

Logan’s whole demeanor has shifted into something colder, sharper—his focus laser-like. "Someone’s inside the building."

Your stomach drops. "What? How? Shouldn’t the security downstairs—"

"They got past it," he interrupts, throwing on his jacket in one fluid motion. His eyes are darker now, more alert, and it sends a chill down your spine. "Stay here."

Before you can protest, he’s out the door. But the idea of staying still, alone, in a situation like this? No chance. You grab your phone and follow him, keeping a few paces behind as he stalks through the hall, every movement precise, calculated.

He barely glances back at you, his body a wall of tension, like he’s ready to explode into action at any second. "I told you to stay back, Y/N," he growls under his breath, his voice low and urgent.

"And I don’t take orders," you snap back, even though you’re trembling inside. The hallway feels too quiet, too still.

Before Logan can argue, you both hear it—heavy footsteps, coming from the stairwell. Your heart skips a beat. You weren’t prepared for this kind of fear. Sure, the letters had freaked you out, but this? Someone actually in the building, hunting you?

Logan moves so fast you barely see it, pushing you behind him as the door to the stairwell creaks open. The figure that steps out is shadowy at first, but as the light hits him, you see a man—unshaven, wild-eyed, and holding a small knife that glints in the dim light. He’s muttering something under his breath, eyes locked on you.

"There you are," the man breathes, voice unnervingly soft. "I’ve been waiting for this moment."

Before you can react, Logan steps forward, his body a barrier between you and the man. "Back off," he warns, his voice so low it rumbles in his chest.

The stalker’s eyes flick to Logan, sizing him up, but instead of retreating, he grins. "You think you can stop me? I’ve been planning this for months."

You feel your skin crawl, bile rising in your throat. But Logan is a wall of calm fury. Without a word, he lunges at the man, moving so fast you barely register the impact. Logan’s fist connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the wall with a sickening thud.

It should have ended there. Any normal man would have been down for the count. But the stalker scrambles to his feet, eyes wide with manic determination, swinging the knife wildly.

You gasp as the blade slashes through the air, missing Logan by inches. But he’s not rattled. He ducks, then pivots with a speed and grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. And then, with a growl that sounds more animal than human, Logan throws the stalker against the wall, pinning him there.

The man struggles, trying to bring the knife up again. But then, something happens—something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

Logan’s hand shoots forward, and suddenly there’s a metallic SNIKT. Three long, razor-sharp claws extend from between his knuckles—gleaming silver, impossibly deadly. They punch through the man’s jacket, pinning him by the shoulder to the wall.

The stalker lets out a scream, eyes wide in terror. But your own scream is stuck in your throat. All you can do is stare, your brain struggling to comprehend what you’re seeing.

Logan has claws. Metal claws.

What the hell?

With the stalker writhing in pain, Logan leans in close, his voice a low growl. "You picked the wrong damn target."

The man whimpers, his bravado completely gone as blood trickles from the shallow wound. Logan jerks the claws free, and the man collapses to the ground, groaning in pain but still breathing. Without a second glance at his attacker, Logan turns to you.

“Y/N,” he says, stepping toward you, his voice a low, rough murmur that sounds far away. “It’s not what you think—”

But you stumble back, the knife in your hand trembling, not because of the stalker lying on the floor, but because of him. Because of what you just saw.

“Y-you…what—” You can’t even get the words out, your mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened. “What are you?”

Logan’s face tightens. He’s clearly seen this reaction before. “I’m a mutant,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice almost unnerving given what just went down. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but—”

“I—” You take another step back, your heart still racing. “Mutant? Logan, you—what the hell did you just—” Your eyes drop to his hands, where the claws retracted just moments ago. “You have claws?”

Logan doesn’t move, his hands by his sides, still covered in a few drops of the intruder’s blood. His whole body looks tense, as though he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d never—”

“You—” You’re shaking your head, not even sure what you’re trying to say. Everything’s too much. You’ve only ever heard horror stories about mutants, about how dangerous they can be, how you should keep your distance. You’ve never known anyone who was one…until now.

And it’s Logan. The guy who’s been protecting you.

The guy who just kissed you.

“I need…I need some space,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, your mind still reeling.

Logan’s expression shifts, a flicker of something that looks almost like regret crossing his face. But he nods, stepping back slowly. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re scared. But I’m still the same guy I was five minutes ago. I’m not the enemy, Y/N.”

You know that. Deep down, in some part of yourself, you know that Logan wouldn’t hurt you. He’s saved your life, protected you, and been nothing but loyal. But right now, your instincts are screaming at you to get away, to process what the hell just happened.

“I just…please, I need to be alone,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Logan’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something. But then he nods once, giving you space, just like you asked. “I’ll be close,” he says quietly, before turning and walking away, leaving you alone in the hallway with your racing thoughts.

As he disappears around the corner, you lean back against the wall, your knees threatening to give out. You’re not sure what scares you more, the stalker lying unconscious on the floor, or the realization that Logan isn’t just a man with a bad attitude and a dangerous past.

He’s something else entirely.

And you have no idea what that means for you both.

The next day is a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions. You wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, but instead of feeling rested, your heart pounds in your chest, and the events of the previous day come flooding back. Logan’s claws, the way he fought off that intruder, the raw power he displayed—it all feels surreal.

You spend the morning trying to distract yourself, throwing yourself into your usual routine. You have interviews lined up and a photoshoot to get through, but every moment, you can’t shake the image of Logan standing over that intruder, the fierceness in his eyes as he retracted those deadly claws. There’s a knot in your stomach, a strange mix of fear and something else you can’t quite place.

Despite your attempts at normalcy, you’re acutely aware of the absence of Logan. He hasn’t checked in, hasn’t texted, and that silence weighs heavily on you. You told him you needed space, but now, part of you wonders if you made a mistake pushing him away.

As the afternoon stretches on, you finish your last interview and head back to your apartment, an unshakable sense of anticipation coursing through you. The place feels different without Logan’s presence, quieter, more hollow. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for whatever comes next.

The door swings open, and you step inside. The scent of leather and Logan’s cologne still lingers in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance around, half-hoping to see him leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, that trademark smirk on his lips. But the space is empty.

You walk into the living room, the tension from the previous day still hanging in the air. You’re about to pour yourself a glass of water when a knock on the door startles you. You freeze, heartbeat quickening as you glance at the clock. It’s late, too late for anyone else to drop by.

You approach the door cautiously and open it, your breath catching in your throat as you see Logan standing there, his presence filling the doorway. He looks as imposing as ever, dressed in a black t-shirt that hugs his torso, the leather jacket thrown over one shoulder. His hair is tousled, and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw that somehow makes him look even more rugged.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and a touch uncertain.

“Hey,” you manage, heart racing. The tension between you two feels palpable, and you can’t ignore the rush of warmth spreading through your body at the sight of him.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his expression serious, but there’s an underlying urgency that makes your stomach flip.

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. He walks past you, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, sending a rush of heat through your veins.

Logan turns to face you, his expression shifting, revealing the storm brewing behind his eyes. “I wanted to talk. About yesterday.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “I mean…you didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “I’ve been thinking about you, and I… I didn’t like how we left things.”

The way he looks at you makes your heart race. There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a longing that mirrors the tumult inside you. But there’s something else too—something electric.

“I was scared, Logan,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just happened so fast. I didn’t know—”

“I know.” He steps closer, closing the distance between you, the heat radiating off him wrapping around you like a thick blanket. “But I’m still me. I’d never hurt you.”

You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you see is sincerity mixed with an undeniable hunger.

“I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this.” You gesture between the two of you, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hanging heavy in the air.

Logan takes another step closer, his voice a rough murmur. “What do you want?”

Your breath hitches. The question hangs in the air, charged and raw, and for the first time, you allow yourself to confront the truth of your feelings. “I want—”

Before you can finish, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that ignites the fire simmering beneath your skin. It’s not the same as before; it’s deeper, more urgent, filled with the need to reclaim what was almost lost.

You melt against him, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. Logan’s hands roam your sides, fingers skimming over your hips, drawing you nearer as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he pulls back, his breath mingles with yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. “You want this,” he says, voice low and rough, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “You want me.”

“I do,” you admit, your cheeks flushing as the words spill out. “But it’s complicated, Logan. We shouldn’t—”

“Who cares?” His fingers slide down your arms, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re not just some celebrity to me. You’re not just a job.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is a whisper, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive.

“I mean you’re you. I don’t care what the tabloids say. I don’t care about the age difference or the rumors. I want you.”

His words send a thrill through you, igniting a spark of something wild and reckless. You’ve never felt this way before, not like this. It’s heady, intoxicating.

“Logan, what if—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, more demanding this time, as if he’s trying to erase every doubt from your mind. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel every muscle in his body, the heat radiating off him in waves.

And then it happens again—the sharp, undeniable rush of want overwhelms you. The world outside fades away, and all that matters is this moment, this connection, this man standing before you.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless. “This is crazy,” you say, your mind racing, but the way Logan looks at you silences your doubts.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly. “But I’d rather be crazy with you than without you.”

Your heart flips, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You’ve never wanted someone like this before, and the thought sends a thrill of excitement through you.

“Then what do we do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, heart racing at the thought of what lies ahead.

Logan smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we start by not overthinking this.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your cheek, igniting a fire in your core. “And maybe just…enjoying each other.”

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing a path that makes your head spin. You lean into him, surrendering to the moment as his warm breath sends shivers down your spine. The world outside is forgotten, and it feels like you’ve stepped into a realm that’s just yours and his.

“Logan…” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, desire flooding your senses.

His lips brush against yours again, teasing, playful, igniting the tension that’s been building between you two. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “I promise I won’t bite…unless you want me to.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, and the air crackles with undeniable tension. Maybe this is crazy, but right now, with Logan’s warmth enveloping you and the world outside forgotten, it feels more than right. It feels like fate.

Days turn into weeks, and you and Logan become a fixture in each other's lives. What began as a chaotic bodyguard relationship slowly evolves into something far more intimate—something neither of you anticipated but both desperately needed.

You find yourself falling into a routine, one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. Every morning, he’s there, often making breakfast—his way of saying he cares, even if he does burn the toast. Every night, you curl up on the couch with him, sharing popcorn and movies, laughter filling the spaces where tension once resided. But it’s the moments outside those walls that change everything.

You don’t keep your relationship a secret, not intentionally, anyway. You both know the world you live in—the public scrutiny, the flashing cameras, the endless rumors. But Logan doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it emboldens him, a rebellious spark igniting in his eyes whenever you’re out together.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, you find yourselves strolling through a park in downtown Los Angeles, the kind of place where everyone is too busy with their own lives to pay attention to two people in love. But as you walk hand in hand, you can’t help but notice a few heads turning.

“Logan, I think we’re being watched,” you murmur, glancing around at the passersby. The mix of curiosity and surprise is palpable, but you also feel the warmth of Logan’s hand gripping yours, reassuring and steady.

“They can look all they want,” he grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss against your temple, his stubble grazing your skin. The contact sends a thrill through you.

“You’re not worried about the tabloids?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Let them say what they want. At least they’ll get my age wrong,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Besides, you think I care about some headlines? I’m more concerned about you.”

A warmth blooms in your chest, and you can’t help but lean into him, your heart swelling with affection.

But the cameras don’t stop. That evening, as you both enjoy dinner at a trendy rooftop restaurant, the whispers and glances become more pronounced. The waitress seems to be holding back a grin as she serves you drinks, clearly recognizing Logan and you. You glance around, feeling a little exposed but also exhilarated.

“This could be the new gossip for the tabloids,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “‘Famous singer falls for mysterious bodyguard.’”

“Or maybe ‘Local badass finally finds a reason to smile,’” he counters, winking at you. You laugh, the sound bright and airy, and it feels good.

You both savor the evening, leaning into the playful banter and the stolen glances that carry an undeniable spark. But when the two of you leave the restaurant, a group of paparazzi suddenly swarms you, their cameras flashing like fireworks in the night.

“Y/N! Is it true you’re dating Logan Howlett?” one of them shouts, voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Logan, how long have you two been seeing each other?” another calls, pushing closer, their cameras nearly colliding with your faces.

Logan’s grip tightens around your waist, and you can feel his tension rising. You glance at him, but he simply raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips. “Guess they’re interested, huh?”

“Yeah, interested in our personal lives,” you whisper, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“Let them watch,” Logan says, stepping closer to you, almost as if to shield you from the chaos. “Just remember—they don’t know the half of it.”

You share a glance, and there’s a spark of understanding in his eyes. With a deep breath, you face the throng of reporters. “We’re happy together,” you say, your voice steady despite the cameras flashing around you. “That’s all that matters.”

The crowd quiets for a moment, the buzz of excitement hanging in the air. Then Logan leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, and the cameras go wild. The moment feels electric, and as you pull away, you can’t help but grin.

“Wow, you’ve really got it bad, don’t you?” he teases, the playful glint in his eye returning.

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your heart soaring.

The reporters seem to be taken aback by the chemistry between you, the dynamic clearly more than just a simple bodyguard-client relationship. You can hear the murmurs among the crowd as you both walk past, the air buzzing with a mix of curiosity and approval.

“Do you think it’s serious?” one of them asks.

“I heard she’s been seen with him a lot,” another replies, voice laced with intrigue. “What a power couple!”

“Wonder how long they’ll last,” a third one scoffs, but you’re too high on adrenaline to let their words get to you.

As you reach your car, Logan turns to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nod, a burst of happiness washing over you. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he replies, smirking. “Because now you’re stuck with me. The tabloids might as well start preparing for a long-term feature.”

“Is that a challenge?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says, pulling you closer as you both settle into the car. “Just remember, if they start digging into our lives, I’m the one with the claws.”

You burst out laughing, and as he revs the engine, the world feels like it’s finally aligning. The chaos of the paparazzi, the gossip, the rumors—they all fade away. Because in this moment, it’s just you and Logan, ready to take on whatever the world throws your way, together.

[vroomvroommuppett]

charles x alex x reader where reader is a famous singer and is soft launching their relationship through songs 💞

wasabi

charles leclerc x alexandra saint lmeux x little mix!reader

taglist

kofi

still taking requests!

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

a/n yn is perrie in little mix

۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername, jadethirwall, and others

scuderiaferrari We are so excited to have Yn Ln from Little Mix join us!

tagged: yourusername

yourusername thank you for having me!

user1 another celebrity who knows nothing about f1 🙄

user2 she actually has talked about loving f1 her whole life. her dad watched it when she was growing up so she watched with him. she's mentioned it a few times.

charles_leclerc So good to see you again!

yourusername you too lechair! user3 how do they know each other? yourusername lewis introduced us a few years ago

carlossainz55 Great having you!

yourusername thanks chilli!

user5 she slayed that outfit

landonorris Mclaren next?

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yourusername just posted a story

[he should stick to racing]

alexandrasaintlmeux replied

he really should

charles_leclerc replied

Wow. Love you too mon amour

۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintlmeux, leighannepinnock, and others

yourusername mini miami dump

tagged: scuderiaferrari, alexandrasaintlmeux, charles_leclerc

jadethirwall slayyyyyy

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charles_leclerc Why does she get a nice picture?

yourusername i like her more

maxverstappen1 YOURE MY NEW FAVORITE FOR THAT PICTURE

yourusername i try

user6 this is weird

user7 agree. why is she posting pics like this?

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۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and others

yourusername stick like toffee, sip like coffee, wake up, change your mind, and drop me. love to hate me, crazy, shady. spit me out like hot wasabi. lick me up, i'm sweet and salty. mix it up and down my body. love to hate me, praise me, shame me. either way, you talk about me❤️

charles_leclerc Tu y es vraiment allé mdr [you really went there lol]

yourusername que puis-je dire ? je suis mesquin [what can i say? i'm petty af]

alexandrasaintlmeux tu est chaude [you're hot]

yourusername à toi, petite fille [all you, baby girl]

user8 still don't like this

user9 she saw the thread

user10 her using wasabi is iconic

jadethirwall #justiceforwasabi

user11 jade💀

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yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and others

yourusername they say that i'm the girl up in their dreams. hot boy and girl, better give me what i need. wear me on their bodies like a throwback. and they better not move when i throw it back. baby, keep me wetter than a bayou. if you don't, i'ma walk right by you (baby, touch me, tease me, keep it easy).

je vous aime mes amours. merci de m'aimer❤️ [i love you my loves. thank you for loving me]

tagged: charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintlmeux

charles_leclerc je t'aime mon coeur [i love you my heart]

yourusername ❤️

alexandrasaintlmeux t'aimer est facile chérie [loving you is easy, darling]

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user12 this was not on my bingo card

carlossainz55 Finally!

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tag list @sya-skies @formulaal @poppyflower-22 @stupid---person @boiohboii @nichmeddar @magical-spit @lady-laura-speaks @swiftholic-13 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @barcelonaloverf1life @exotic-iris13 @lady-laura-speaks @d3kstar

[asterias-record-shop]

ok but like maybe stiles stilinski with a spoiled rich reader maybe who has vibes like lydia?¿? maybe w number 21 ?¿? possibly…

—𓆩[warmth]𓆪—

omg, this is literally the longest fic I've ever written for this blog, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Rich! Vampire! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 6.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - No one expected you and Stiles to start dating. Come on, a rich vampire posing as a high school student who could’ve been a real life Cullen? Fuck no. But, it happened, and Stiles fucking loves you - and your fangs - probably more than he should, and he wants to try something.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language and smut || I was forced to watch twilight and this is what happened I love it || kinda sub stiles || mentions of mates || scent glands || marking || mentions of Wattpad & fanfic || i got WAY too into this shit man- || stiles did research || biting kink || blood kink || multiple rounds || oral || face sitting || cum eating || creampie || unprotected sex ||

“So, tell me again how this happened?” Coach was baffled as you sat in his class, your hand in Stiles’ as the topic interrupted your lesson in your economics class. “Like, the dating part. How the heck did you end up with her, Stilinski?!”

You cleared your throat, raising your hand. “I uhm… we’ve been dating for a while, Coach.”

“Yeah, I know! I just didn’t believe it until I saw Stilinski trying to kiss you when he thought I wasn’t looking! Come on kid, you’re that desperate?!” Bobby groaned, pressing his face into his hands. “Why is it always the nice ones who get with the… the Stiles?”

You laughed. “I don’t know who you’ve talked to, Coach, but I am not nice.”

“Yeah, she’s not!” Scott said, twirling his pencil before you glared at him. “Nice. Sh-She’s not nice.”

“Oh, shut up, McCall! You’re just mad because Stiles likes hanging out more with me than you,” you stuck your tongue out at him, letting out a soft humph as you cross your legs under the desk. “And he’s mad I took his boyfriend too.”

“Y/N, we weren’t-”

“Hush darling, Scott and I are talking,” you say, smiling widely at him as you kiss his nose. “Thank you baby.”

“This isn’t happening,” Coach groaned into his hand before the bell rings, a giggle falling from your lips. “Right? This isn’t happening?”

“Oh it’s happening!” You laughed, standing as Stiles cleared his throat.

“Y/N, baby, I have practice today.” He said, Scott coming behind him and sticking his tongue out at you. “I’m sorry.”

You pouted, pretending to think. “Why don’t you just skip? I’ll buy the school new lacrosse gear.”

“I’m right here!” Coach yelled, but quickly got up. “I would be interested in new lacrosse gear though.”

“Yeah, see? Come on, let’s skip.”

“No! We have the quarter-finals this week, he can’t miss. Y/N, he can’t miss,” Scott turned to you, hoping that he could persuade you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. “Come on.”

“Oh I forgot about that,” coach mumbles, glaring at the wall. “Okay, he’s gotta come, but the school would like new lacrosse gear.”

“Here, how about this,” you say, shaking your head as you fix your skirt. “Stiles goes to practice and I’m on the field.”

Coach scoffed. “On the field? Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, leaning on the table as you pulled Stiles closer. He followed obediently as you licked your teeth, humming. “Play lacrosse?”

Scott scoffed. “Play lacrosse?”

You tilted your head, crossing your legs. “What, like it’s hard?”

Coach starts to laugh, nodding. “Okay! Okay, you’ll be on the field! Stiles, lend your girlfriend some clothes, we’re getting new lacrosse gear!”

Coach walked out as you giggle, Stiles staring at your smile and the sharpened canines that he fucking loved to stare at.

Scott starts to walk out, pausing to look back at the two of you. “Stiles, you coming?” 

“I-In a minute, Scott,” he smiled back at his friend before looking at you who positioned yourself on the desk with crossed legs. “I’ll be there.”

He hummed as he walked out, Stiles letting his hands settle on your hips as you parted your legs so he could slot himself between them. “Hey, my darling.”

You giggled, pushing back his hair. “Hey, honey,” you whisper back, smiling as you nuzzle your nose against his with a soft sigh. “Do you… do you think I’m too mean to Scott?”

“You’re not mean,” he says, laughing. “You and him have like… an ancestral rivalry. He’ll get over it.”

You giggle, pulling him closer for another firm kiss, groaning as your tongue pushed into his mouth, your hand pulling his head back by tugging on his hair. He groaned loudly as your tongue circled around his, humming as your head pounded. You could hear his heart beating incredibly fast, his arteries pulsating, and by hell’s name, you could smell the horniness drifting off of his body, along with the smell of dog because of Scott.

Even newly turned, you could still control yourself with Stiles as of yet. You both had had sex a few times, more than a few actually, but that was before you were actually aware of his… human-ness. You were born a vampire, now in your final years of highschool as you aged regularly and your family was kept alive by blood bags supplied by the numerous hospitals your family owned.

Your instincts never got in the way because of how well fed you were, but this was different. You could feel everything; his heart, his arteries, his veins, fuck even his cock pulsating. Your heightened senses caught everything, groaning as you attempted to pull him closer, another loud groan falling from his lips as you pulled him closer, a choke filling your ears making you pull away, your fangs grazing his bottom lip making him hiss.

A shiver runs down your back as he lets out a soft groan, laughing slightly as he licks his lip. “You alright, Y/N?”

You hummed, not really paying attention to his words as you stared at his lip dripping with that delicious coppery liquid, leaning forward to lick against his lip and a loud groan left his mouth as you sucked on his lip, desperate for that taste. It was different though, his blood tasted sweet, unlike blood bags, animals, and even humans for fucks sake.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, groaning. “I-It kind of hurts.”

You gasped as you pulled away, staring at his slightly swollen bottom lip as he smiled down at you, pushing back your hair. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, humming so that you would look at him. “Hey, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he says, his smile growing as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll be a blood bank for you any day.”

You inhale sharply, shaking your head. “Don’t say that. Y-You don’t know how dangerous that is.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head. “I know you can control yourself.”

You scoffed, pushing him back. “Did you not see what I just did? If you wouldn’t have said something, I would’ve kept going.”

“But I did say something,” he says, quickly stepping forward and holding your hips again. “Just because I said it hurt-ed, doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head. “Hurt-ed?”

He hummed, nodding. “Hurted. It’s the past tense.”

You shook your head, laughing. “No it’s not, the past tense is still hurt.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not anymore, it’s hurted now.”

You giggle, shaking your head before sighing. “I’m gonna go write that check, okay? I… I think I’m gonna go home, too.”

His brows ruffled, quickly blocking you from jumping down. “Why?”

“Because it’s not safe for me to be around so many people,” you responded, humming as you quickly went around him. “Come to my house after school? We need to talk.”

He quickly caught your hand, one you could’ve easily avoided, but he shook his head. “Y-You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

You giggled, smiling sadly with a shake of your head. “Just meet me at my house, alright?”

He cleared his throat but nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly pulling you in for a soft kiss. “I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.”

You hummed softly, nodding. “I love you too, my darling.”

He swallowed as you walked out, pulling out your checkbook and writing a number with a lot of zeros on the main line before crossing out the rest, signing and doing the rest of the things before passing by Coach and pressing it to his chest. “Let me know if you need more, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“What? Where are you going?” He yelled out as you waved back at him.

“Have something to do at home! I’ll see you!” You yelled, looking back with a smile. “Good luck, Coach!”

He mumbled something as you walked out, quickly making your way back home and parking outside your secluded mansion that truly could’ve been out of the movie. It didn’t take you long to get up to your room, quickly getting caught by Kirshe, one of the vampire elders that your parents were friends with. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Of course she knew what you were feeling. “O-Oh, I’m fine,” you responded, humming with a slight smile. “Just some… relationship problems.”

She paused, her golden eyes trailing down your body before flashing a bright red. “He doesn’t know he’s your mate, does he?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not only that, Kirshe.”

She hummed, taking a deep inhale. “And he’s human too, isn’t he?”

You inhaled deeply, nodding. “Taken in by a pack of dogs.”

Kirshe laughed. “Oh, it’s always the best of us, my love. He’s… why are there problems now?”

“I tasted his blood,” you giggled, shaking your head with a scoff. “It’s just like the stories describe it. Addicting, sweet… perfect.”

“Do you want to turn him?” She asked, making you shrug. “Does he want to be turned?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Back at the school, Stiles was going crazy. “Do you think she’s going to break up with me?”

“She would never,” Scott responded, scoffing. “She’s too in love with you.”

“You’re just mad because you thought she was hot,” Stiles grinned, putting on a shirt that hadn’t been near Scott. He knew how much you hated the smell of wolves. “Right?”

“Oh shut up,” Scott scoffed, shaking his head. “Where did she go anyways?”

“Home.” Stiles said, humming. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I can smell how horny you are.”

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I uhm… we were making out earlier. She was… sucking on my lip after it started bleeding.”

Scott froze, quickly looking at him. “What?”

“You’re overreacting so much,” Stiles said, shrugging. “We’ve had sex before.”

“But she’s never sucked your blood, right?”

Stiles could feel his cheeks heat up, about to say something before Scott groaned loudly. “Dude, the smell got stronger! Holy shit, does that turn you on?!”

“Fuck yeah it does!” Stiles said, thankful the two of them were the only ones in the locker room. “Dude, when we like, get heated, she runs her fangs along my neck, holy shit, it’s so hot.”

“And you want her to suck your blood?” Scott paused, staring at him. “You want her to turn you?”

Stiles paused, staring down at his bag before inhaling deeply. Is this what Bella Swan was feeling when she was with Edward Cullen?

“I want to be with her for the rest of my life,” Stiles said, grabbing his bag before smiling at Scott. “If it’s this one or one hundred, I don’t care. I want her, forever.”

Scott inhaled deeply before sighing, shaking his head with a slight smile. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”

Stiles smiled, all sarcasm gone. “Yeah, I am.”

“What about your dad?” Scott asked the inevitable question, inhaling deeply. “I-I’m not trying to like… ruin anything, but if you get turned… what are you going to do to him?”

Stiles smiled, shrugging. “He’ll be my dad. Always. What he wants to do is up to him.”

After that, he waved goodbye and quickly drove to your house, way over the speed limit to get there faster. As soon as he pulled up, he smiled when he saw you on your balcony, staring at him like you knew he was coming - which you probably did.

He quickly got out, waving up at you as you giggled. Normally your family was there to greet him, but they were obviously gone as he walked inside and up to your room.

He doesn’t knock, mainly because there was no point, slowly walking behind you as you stood on your balcony. His arms go to wrap around your waist, leaning onto your body as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, your hand going to hold his jaw as you exhaled deeply. “How was practice?”

“Good,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Missed you. I changed into something that I hope doesn’t smell like Scott.”

You giggle, nodding. “And it doesn’t, thank you.”

“So uhm…” he whispered, humming against your neck as you moved your hands to settle over his. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you read up on vampires when you met me, right?” You hummed, smiling as he nodded into your neck. “Did you get to the part about mates?”

He paused, his hands tightening around your waist. Did you find your mate? He had read up about them, but never really retained the information because no one ever spoke of them, but obviously for pure blooded vampires like your family, of course they existed.

“I-I… I did,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “There wasn’t much about how it works for bloodborne vampires.”

“Would you like for me to tell you how it works?” You asked, smiling up at him.

“Wh-Why would you tell me if I’m not your mate?” Stiles whispered, slight annoyance in his voice before you started laughing. “What?”

“Stiles, you’re so lucky you’re hot,” you turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re my mate.”

He paused, staring down at you blankly. He was your mate? Why?

When you started laughing, he realized he must’ve said it out loud, your hands cupping his face. “Why not? I think it’s fitting, don’t you?”

“Th-That’s not what I meant,” he didn’t mean to stutter, it always happened around you though. He groaned loudly as your fingers dragged down his neck, sparks following your touch as you smiled up at him. “I meant like… how are we mates?”

You paused, pursing your lips. “Kirshe said mates are decided by the gods where in past lives their love ‘changed the fate of the world’,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply as you stroked his hair. “Do you think we could’ve changed the fate of the world, Stiles? In our past lives?”

He inhaled deeply, nodding as he leaned his forehead down against yours. “I know we could’ve,” he whispered back, pressing his lips softly against yours. “Because I love you more than anything else in the world.”

You smiled widely, letting out a loud laugh as he picked you up and turned the both of you around to go back into your bedroom. He slowly laid you in the bed, crawling over your body and laying down next to you to pull you into his chest. You sighed heavily against his chest, stroking his shirt before pulling it down slightly to see his exposed skin. You could hear his heart beating, his valves and ventricles pumping, his lungs inhaling and exhaling, his diaphragm expanding and deflating - fuck, at this point, you hated that he was human at this point.

“Y/N?”

You hummed, looking up at him as your fingers trail over his exposed collarbone. “Yes, my love?”

“I-I was wondering… if you could uhm… turn me. Like, actually turn me… into a vampire like you,” Stiles said as you started to sit up, staring at your face pinched up as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, why do you want to be a vampire?” You asked, staring at him like he was crazy. “You would watch the people you love die over and over again. You have the choice to grow old and-”

“And what about you?” He whispered, taking your hand in his. Besides his dad and Scott, you were the only person alive right now that he cared for, especially after he was impacted by Void. You stuck with him even after that, how could he let you go now? “You would watch me grow old and wait for me to be born again? Huh?”

“That’s not what I meant, Stiles-”

“I want to be with you,” the brunette filled in, staring at you with those whiskey colored eyes. “For the rest of my life, and I want it to be where you don’t have to watch me die in the end. I want to spend… the rest of my life young with you.”

“But in turning you, I’d watch you die too,” you whispered, inhaling deeply as your eyes watered. You had thought about this before, turning him, but then you thought about what he would go through. You were the first bloodborne vampire ever recorded, because of course the Court took note of every vampire turned, but you were the first one born of two Elders who didn’t think they could get pregnant. You knew what vampires went through when they’re turned, but what would Stiles go through? Turned by a bloodborne who was their mate? “You have to die to become a vampire, Stiles. I would have to kill you.”

“Then kill me.” He sat up, holding your face in his hands as he smiled at you. “I’ve died before, what's another time?”

“Not like this, Stiles,” you whisper, gasping as he wiped the tears from falling down your cheeks, leaning forward to kiss against your skin. “The turning of a mate isn’t something that just happens. It takes days, months, rituals, I have to mark you, we have to be married for fucks sake-!”

You couldn’t finish, gasping as he pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap with a loud groan. “Well then mark me. That’s the start, right?”

You gaped at him, his stupid smile as he stared at you. “You know that means I have to bite you, right?”

“Yeah, it’s like those werewolf stories on Wattpad.”

“You were on Wattpad?”

“It was a dare, moving along. Does it like stay a bite mark or does it like turn into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, a bloodborne has never marked anyone before,” you say, but your eyes narrow at him. “The hell are you reading where it turns into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, it turns into their initials,” he shrugged, but paused. “Do I get to mark you too?”

“You want to mark me?” You say, smiling with a slight bounce making him hold back a grunt. “You can mark me right now.”

He smirked, staring at you as you slipped off your shirt to expose your shoulder. “Didn’t you say there’s a process?”

“Not for marking,” you respond, but pause. “But if you mark me, we have to get married soon, because I have to turn you in the span of a few months. Or maybe not because I'm bloodborne, so it could be different.”

“What if I don’t get turned?”

“You turn into a lust crazed monster until I do turn you, but it’s more lethal because since you’re so obsessed with sex, your mind doesn’t process the turn until your body is on fire. Well, it feels like it’s on fire.”

He pursed his lips. “So for the rest of eternity we’re just going to be a rich family hidden in the woods? Like the Cullens?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re just gonna ignore the fact that you’ll turn into a lust crazed monster?”

He grinned. “Well, who am I lusting for? You, right?”

“Well yeah, you have my blood in your veins, so of course you lust after me.”

“I see no problem in that.” He responds, ignoring the fact that his body might not register the turn.

You laughed, shaking your head as you pulled his hands to your back to unclasp your bra. “Well, you want to get this mating thing started, don’t you?” Your fingers move to trail down his chest after he unclasped your bra, your skin cold to the touch until his warm hands flattened against your back. “When you first bite, it’ll taste odd until that zing runs up your back. Then, I’ll tell you when to stop, alright? As soon as you stop, your mind might get kind of hazy and you’ll probably be really horny, alright?”

He laughed. “More horny than I am now? Impossible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, tugging on the hem of his shirt to pull it off. Immediately, he pulls away and raises his arms for you to take off his shirt, your eyes staring at his mole covered chest. You inhale shakily as you finally meet his eyes, your hands pressed against his warm chest as he pushed his face into your neck, pressing firm kisses to your neck as you pulled him closer before kissing his ear. 

“Are you sure you want this, Stiles?” You whisper, holding his face as you pull away. “It doesn’t have to happen now.”

He smiled up at you, shaking his head as he continued to press kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “For the rest of eternity, remember?”

You smile, inhaling deeply as his tongue flattened against your neck making you lean your head to the side.

“Where do I bite?”

“Anywhere,” you mumbled, your mind hazy as you inhaled the smell that was so uniquely him, whiskey and mountain air combined with pine that made you walk straight toward him when you moved to town. “Anywhere you want.”

He pauses, pulling away to tilt his head up at you. “So it doesn’t have to be on your neck like in the stories?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course not. Anywhere you bite, like you said, it turns into initials surrounded by a slight imprint of your bite.” 

He pauses, letting his eyes trail over your bare torso as he slowly moves so that you were actually seated in his lap. “Can I do it…” he lets his eyes trail over your skin, humming as he pressed a soft kiss to the space of skin a little lower to where the end of your clavicle was. “Here?”

“Why there?”

“Because,” he whispered, his eyes almost darkening as he let his tongue flatten against your skin, getting it wet with his spit as you groaned, tilting your head back. Your hips automatically roll into his, a loud groan falling from his mouth as he pulls away for a minute. “You gotta show it off, don’t you? Gets you to wear those low cut shirts I fuckin’ love.”

You gasped as his teeth finally sunk into your skin, your body basically on fire as he groaned against your skin. Like you said, it tasted weird at first, coppery and tangy until it flooded his mouth, the smell of the perfume you wore that he learned wasn’t actually perfume shifting into taste instead of the layers of smell you always smelled like. It was sweet and fruity, like strawberries and cherries with sweet cream and that white angel cake, tangy from the berries and sweet from the pastries.

Fuck, it tasted so good. His teeth were deep in your skin, the only cooling part of your body where his teeth sank and drew blood, his hot body making yours feel even hotter.

You could feel your mind get hazy, your eyes rolling back as he tried to suck harder, a loud groan falling from his lips as his hands pawed at your ass, your hips rutting into his almost automatically before you tugged on his hair. “St-Sti, not too much, you could get sick.”

He basically whined, only pulling away by the tug of his hair before licking over the bite mark left on your skin. He panted, watching it as though it would change into the black tattoo-ink like color he was truly expecting it to turn in an instant.

You giggled, quickly catching his jaw before pulling him up to look at you. “It’s not going to happen until I mark you first, my love.”

He stared up at you, eyes a dark chocolate color, lips slightly stained and his tongue tinted a darker red. “Oh.”

You giggle, leaning down to press firm kisses to his skin, never stopping your firm thrusts of your clothed hips against his own, tongue trailing around his skin scattered with moles. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“Where everyone can see,” his hands were shaking from excitement, the taste of your blood sending electricity through his body, tongue flattening against your shoulder and holding back the urge to sink his teeth in again. “Wherever you want it to be, as long as it’s on show.”

“So…” you whisper, letting your tongue trail down the side of his jaw, pushing against the moles under his ear. “Like, here? Or… lower?”

“A-A little lower, please,” he whispered, words breathy as he focused on your hips rolling into his, hard and your hot cunt sliding against his hard cock. He could feel your wetness through your shorts and his jeans, hissing as you leaned forward and kept your hips there, releasing your weight just a bit to keep his cock slotted between your folds. “Fuck, please.”

You hummed, your tongue flattening on the pulse filling your ears until going to the side of his neck. “Here?”

“Mhm,” he merely hummed, nodding into your neck as his hands shakily grabbed your hips. “D-Don’t stop your moving hips, please.”

You giggle, your eyesight basically blurring as you stare at his neck, that one mole catching your eye before you inhaled deeply and felt your canines extend, a comical shing filling the room as you sunk your teeth into his skin. You could barely focus on his cock rubbing against your clothed cunt, one of his hands slipping in between you both to tug your shorts and underwear to the side, pushing his fingers into your leaking cunt and his fingers thrusting into your cunt. You were so tight, so so tight and wet, two of his fingers easily pushing into you and rolling his fingers inside of you.

You were so distracted with the taste of his blood, pushing in and out, in and out, but it was nothing compared to how good he tasted. He tasted like caramel, underlying with nutty butterscotch and whiskey, maybe a slight bit of salt that balanced everything out. You groaned loudly, eyes flying open as he pulled his finger out, the sound of him unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them to pull his cock out of his boxers and push his tip into you making you moan loudly against his skin.

Oh it was almost as though you couldn’t stop, your head pounding as you felt his veins pumping and heart beating, a soft gasp making you pull away, cursing. Was it too much? Did you take too much from him?

“Why did you stop?” He whispered, staring up at you with hazy eyes. “I liked it. I-I loved it. It felt like lightning-”

“Stiles.”

“L-Like lightning was traveling down my spine and filling my veins-”

“Stiles.”

He paused, staring up at you as you looked down at your skin, smiling when you saw the initials MS surrounded by the faded gray bite mark. “Mieczysław. Fuck, I love that name, I love your name.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, smiling as you giggled down at him, his face pressing against your skin before kissing his initials. “I love you so much.”

You smile as he slowly pushes you onto your back, his eyes a dark chocolate brown as he pulls out just for a minute, pulling off his pants after kicking off his shoes and tugging down your shorts and pretty panties. Your eyes rolled back as he flattened his tongue against your wet slit, flicking his tongue against your puffed up clit before sitting back on his feet and pumping his cock. You could see his cock covered in cum, inhaling deeply as you looked over at his discarded boxers, a splatter of cum making you giggle.

“I made you cum in your pants, Mieczysław?”

He groaned as he pushed back into you, staring at the creamy ring he started to leave around your entrance that kept sucking him farther and farther into you. He groaned, his mind fully attentive to your cunt basically swallowing his length, whimpers and squirming finally starting when he left the last few inches. His eyes flickered up to your face, a groan falling from his lips as he saw his initials on your skin, your face pinched in pleasure and eyes rolling back as he thrusted into you sharply to watch that creamy ring settle on his base and your hands flying to his forearms.

“Fuck, fuck Stiles!”

He shook his head, holding your hips with a grunt. “No baby, call me by my real name,” he said, cursing softly as he started to thrust his hips, watching your body bounce with each thrust, your tits moving and his eyes trained on the mark he made. You were right, he was so fucking addicted to the feeling of you around his cock, more lightning traveling up his spine as your nails dug into his forearm, blood making your eyes flash red. “You always say it so fucking nice.”

He watched you groan loudly, moving so his chest pressed against yours and moving his arms to support him. He watched your mouth move to his forearms, your tongue flattening against his skin and licking up all of the blood, his mouth moving to your head to press kisses against your hair, groans falling from his mouth with each thrust before you moved to stare up at him, pulling him down to kiss him, that same coppery tang disappearing and fading into the same whiskey flavor you had been addicted to.

“Mieczysław,” you whispered, gasping as his thrusts got faster, whining as his hand pushed down to circle against your clit torturously before his other hand gripped your thigh, digging his nails so deep into your skin he drew blood. “F-Fuck!”

He groaned as he pushed his fingertips against your skin, covering them with that crimson liquid before pushing them into his mouth and slamming into you one last time to cum inside of you, the gushing of his cum making you cum from the almost inflation like feeling. It didn’t take you long to push him over, though, staring at his already healed forearm. You smiled as you began to roll your hips, desperate as his tip kissed your cervix, pushing deeper and deeper at this new angle as you moaned loudly, holding his chest and staring down at the mark with your own initials on his skin.

It fueled your movements, staring down at the cum smearing along his pelvis, whimpering as you bounced on his length. “Please, please, fuck!”

“You need my help, don’t you?” He teased, lifting his hips to roll into you at the same time you pushed down, your eyes rolling back as he pushed even deeper inside of you - something you truly didn’t think could happen. “Right?”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” You pleaded, gasping as he forced his hips up into you, thrusting over and over again at the same speed you were bouncing on his cock with even more force than you could ever imagine. You were so lost in pleasure, his warm hands holding your hips as you tried to stay sitting up, your body finally registering the fresh human blood in your veins. It had been a while since you had anything other than bagged blood or animal blood, and as a result, your high was gone and inevitably coming down until he slammed his hips up into you, your eyes rolling back as the knot in your stomach snapped and a loud moan of his name - his real name - left your mouth.

He groaned underneath you, his cum gushing out of your cunt as you slowly got off, staring at his still hard cock. You giggle, smiling as you pumped his cock and licked the cum sliding down his shaft, groaning as he bucked his hips up into your mouth. You kept it in your mouth, moaning loudly as you bobbed your head, pumping what you couldn’t fit in your mouth and staring at his face.

You didn’t register his human features, not anymore, his blood pumping and his lungs filling with air or exhaling air, only the fact that the cum on his cock tasted so fucking delicious and your fingers cupping and squeezing his balls which made his hips buck and you pull back to feel his cum flood your mouth. You groaned, sucking on his pretty tip and your hand fisting his cock, swallowing the salty liquid before pulling away.

Your mind was full of lust as you slowly crawled up his body, his hands immediately catching your hips as you hovered over his face. His eyes were hazy with lust as you grinned down at him. "You're such a good boy, honey. I think you deserve a treat."

He groaned loudly as you slowly released your weight, holding the sides of his head as his hands hold your thighs, your hips rolling into his mouth as his tongue pushed into your cunt, basically pulling all of the cum from your pussy, your eyes rolling back as one of his hands pushed between your thighs and straight into your cunt.

His flexing fingers guided the rolls of your hips, moans falling from your lips as you attempted to cover your mouth before a finger pressed to your clit and his teeth grazed your pussy. You whined loudly, your stomach twisting as you attempted to chase that high, his fingers pushing into you to press against that place that made your stomach go tight and your eyes roll back, curses falling from your lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Mieczysław!”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations making you shiver as he slowly lifted you from his face and push you down so you sat on his cock. He slowly pushed into you, a shiver going down your back as he held your face, pulling you up for a firm kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mieczysław,” you whisper back, smiling as his lips quirked up into a smile of his own, sighing heavily. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great,” he smiled, shrugging. “Really horny.”

You laughed, nodding. “We can keep going,” you whisper, smiling as you lay against his warm chest. “Just… let me lay here in your warmth for a minute.”

“Will you miss it?” He whispers, stroking your cheek as he stares down at you. “M-My warmth.”

You inhale deeply, nodding as your hand rubbed against his chest where his heart was, the beating already slowing down. “Yeah, I will,” you shrug though, giggling. “But we’re the first of our kind, my love. I’m hoping you’ll keep it.”

“Then I do too.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Townie

1st chapter

SUMMARY: If you thought you had terrible luck before, tonight will definitely prove that your life is jinxed when a misunderstanding with a pink haired girl makes your college life a little more difficult. WC: 1.3K PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, mentions of alcohol, drugs (weed), underage drinking, miscommunication, and obviously cursing. A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Vi and I need more slow burn fics of her so this is totally self indulgent. Also, english isn't my first language so apologies if there is (surely) any mistakes, please enjoy :) more notes at the end btw Second chapter

The loud music throbbed through the walls, echoing in your head as you were waiting outside the bathroom door. It felt like you've been standing there for ages, waiting for whoever was inside to finally let you have the chance to go to the bathroom. You knock on the door again, awaiting an answer, but all you can hear is the sound of that damn music, so you decide to go downstairs again.

Putting a feet in front of the other feels painfully unnatural, all you want to do is lay down and puke somewhere, but you couldn't find any spot that wasn't crowded and you certainly don't want your classmates seeing you in that state. It would be so embarrassing if someone took a picture of you vomiting the noodles you had for dinner because you were so lazy to cook a proper meal before drinking. Now you regret it.

Once you reach the final step of the stairs, you look for your phone in one of your pockets. It's a good thing you decided to wear cargo pants instead of a dress; otherwise, in your state, you would have lost your purse with your phone and little money with it.

"Why are the letters so tiny?" you tried to text your friend, she brought you here and she should be the one to save you now, "She'll understand," you think as the only word you're able to type and text her is "Out".

Looking around you see some people dancing, couples sticking their bodies together and things getting heated. You can feel your legs trembling a bit, unable to hold your weight much longer, your head spinning and the music painfully penetrating your ears. Your friend is nowhere to be seen and you're getting nautious again, so you decide to walk to the kitchen and get some water.

"Fuck, where is it?" you wander around in this unfamiliar house for what felt like forever until you catch a glance at someone coming out from a room with bottles in her hands. You don't recognize her from class, you would've noticed her peculiar blue hair and long braids, and how she looks a bit younger than you or your classmates. She looks back at you with her eyes wide open like a deer in headlights, then laughs and continues her way to what you presume is the backyard. You figure that if she got alcohol bottles from there, there must be water as well.

"Bingo!" you scream a little louder than you'd like once you cross the door and see the kitchen, walking to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. You feel your phone vibrating inside your pocket, you take it out and read your friend's "Coming." reply while taking a sip of that sweet and very much needed liquid.

"Fuck!" you spit the remainings of it, feeling your throat burning and your stomach growling even more than before. Who puts vodka inside a water bottle?

You lay against the kitchen counter for a bit in a lame attempt to stay focused, you just have to stay put and wait for your friend to come find you from wherever she was in this damn house.

Determined to not pass out, you go outside following the blue haired girl's trail to get some fresh air. You feel like your head is going to explode, you've been taking for granted your ability to walk without stumbling into things. Your eyes feel heavy, blinking slower everytime as you work your way outside and coordinate your brain and hand to open the door.

It's way less crowded than you thought, only a few people smoking and chatting, you see a couple making out against the wall like no one can see them. But you can. And it's disgusting.

The air is a bit refreshing, definitely better than the smells of heated bodies, booze and weed that filled the house inside. Not that it makes you any less wasted, but it's something. You go around the house trying to find a spot where no one can see you once your stomach decides it can't take it anymore and you see the blue haired girl from before laying down with her eyes closed and empty bottles surrounding her. She's passed out. Walking as quickly as you can to her, you shake her body and try to wake her up. She does nothing besides groaning and mumbling nonsense, so you start to panic and look around you, begging internally that you can find anyone who's more sober than you to help this girl. Your stomach keeps growling at you and your throat burns, tightens, threatening to throw out all the damn booze you drank before. God, what were you thinking?

The world spins around you as you try to focus your vision on this girl and you were right, she is definitely much younger than you, no alcohol should have been near her at first. You reach for her hand, trying to free the bottle from its hold so you can try and sit her up, worried that she'd throw up and drown in her own puke. It takes all your drunk strength to push the bottles around and move her body. While you're grabbing one of the bottles to throw it away, you hear heavy steps coming closer to you and thank the heavens for hearing your pleading; it must be the help you needed.

You turn around and see a muscular figure, heavy boots stomping on the ground with fierce and her pink hair fluorescent in the lights; she looks back at you with a scowl, her hands in fists and quickens her pace. You gulp.

The air around you gets thicker, heavier, hotter; it's like she's inhaling every atom of oxygen while you shrink down to shrump size, getting closer to you as your head is spinning, trying to focus your vision and stand up.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" she asks, her face so close to yours that the air exhaled feels like a shot straight into your face.

You only manage to mumble something incoherent and she pulls you aside, making you stumble over your own feet as she is starring at the bottles.

"She's wasted…" you hear her whispering to herself, scrunching over to caress the younger girl's face and removing the lose hairs from it, "you gave her fucking booze?" she turns around and stares at you, her gaze filled with rage and frustration, you can feel it burning your eyelids.

"No, I—” your brain is betraying you, you put your hands against the wall trying to remain on your feet and explain the situation, but your throat is threatening to let it all out for good.

She clicks her tongue and lifts the young girl from the ground, holding her like she weights nothing on her arms and takes off, leaving you feeling miserable and confused.

You hear a voice calling your name and fast steps approaching, you turn your head and see your friend. Relief washes over your body, your legs no longer able to hold you standing and you give in so you sit on the grass.

"Cait…" were the only words coming out of your mouth in a whisper before you throw out and felt your eyelids closing themselves.

A/N: comments and reviews are appreciated! if you want more let me know :) i have a long series in mind for this

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas. 

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it. 

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic. 

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling. 

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’ 

It had carried on from there.  

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail. 

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand. 

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand. 

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.” 

“From the sauce?” 

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience. 

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger. 

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine. 

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much. 

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently. 

You stay staring. 

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.” 

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? Why?” 

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[minminyoonjii]

Corruption AU - Bottom! Dance Racha/Manipulative Male! Reader

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

You sighed, leaning against your locker, biting on the end of a lollipop stick. It was usual to see you roaming around the hallway during classes. The teachers gave you a special pass since your results are excelling. You yawned, watching students come in and out into the hallway when a group of boys walked in. Their uniforms are seamless, their hair tidy and smooth. 

You eyed the blonde one, his eyes sparkling with innocent joy. His cheeks decorated with freckles, adding to the alluring sight. You looked next to him, his eyes icy but proper. He looks like he holds himself high. A teacher's pet. Then you looked at the last. He was the definition of the last but not least. Tall, an artist. There was a smudge of paint on his cheeks, making you bite back a smirk. 

You eyed him up and down, his ears pierced, and his hair tied to a ponytail. You gave them a subtle glance as they walked closer. Your expression stayed nonchalant as they walked past. It's been a while since you got laid in university. Maybe you could somehow lure them into agreeing with themselves.

"I know you're doing this on purpose," your lecturer chastised, showing you your results. You sighed, "I'm not sir, the workload is getting harder," you replied, trying to keep your annoyance at bay. Your lecturer frowned, "This isn't your first year, you should've prepared and your answers are deliberately wrong. It's like you understood the question but answered the total opposite," he scoffed, tapping his foot. 

You snickered, "Maybe I need a tutor," you said with sarcasm lacing your voice. "Maybe you do," your lecturer perked up. 'Bingo' you thought, staying nonchalant. "I'm introducing you to three students, maybe they'll be a good influence on you," he said, messaging them about the tutoring. You bit back a smirk, "I'm sure they will be," you said, packing up your bag.

"You're our new pupil, right?" Felix beamed, reaching out his hand. You nodded, taking it. The size difference between you made your cock throb. You smiled back, "Yeah, my results have been disappointing, to say the least," you said, playing along to their personalities. Minho hummed, "It's quite a significant drop. Did something happen to you in that period of time?" he asked, wary by your behavior. 

You studied them beforehand, nothing too stalkerish. You were still a gentleman, just base level knowledge. "My pet cat passed. It was heartbreaking, to say the least," you said, showing him a picture of your cat. It wasn't a lie. It did pass, just not this year. Minho bit his bottom lip, sympathizing with your loss, "I'm so sorry. I would've lost focus too," he admitted, setting his papers aside. 

Hyunjin kept quiet, monitoring you, "You're the one that got the special pass, right? The one that only the top students are allowed to have," he said, crossing his arms. You nodded, "I was until I flunked my midterms and trials," you explained, knowing it'd be harder to gain his trust. Hyunjin hummed, "I suppose we could tutor you. But don't expect us to be friends," he said, looking away. You gave him a genuine smile, "Thank you, I'm looking forward to it," you said, covering your pulsing hard on with your bag. 

Weeks go by as they tutored you. It didn't take long for them to get comfortable around it and even invite you for simple hangs out. You enjoyed the company, genuinely seeing them for who they are instead of mindless future hookup. "So, today we're practically simple bacteria containment. It's just step by step to keep it secure. Like the fume hood or the vacuum chamber," Felix explained, showing his notebook. 

You nodded, jolting along, "Can we take a break after this?" You asked, cracking the joints in your neck. Felix nodded, "Sure, it's about time anyway," he said, keeping his stationary aside. You cuddled up to Felix, "You're so soft, Yongbok-ah," you grumbled, nosing his neck. Felix giggled, "That tickles," he said, squirming right above your bulging tent. You hissed, holding him firm, "Stop that," you warned, breathing heavily against his hair. 

Felix gulped, doing as told, "Sorry," he whispered, fidgeting with his hands. You sighed, patting his head, "You did nothing wrong, it's just I'm a little pent up right now," you explained, seeing a shiver go down Felix's spine. You smirked, "Would you like to see?" you asked, knowing this was a heavy risk. Felix nodded, his breathing shallow, "Please? If you allow, of course," he asked, turning to look up at you. 

"Anything you want, prince," you whispered, stroking his cheek.

NSFW BELOW CUT

Felix kneeled between your legs, your cock heavy and hot against your torso, "It's so girthy," he whispered, trying to wrap his hand around it but it barely held half. You chuckled, stroking his hair, "Maybe you're just tiny, prince. Tiny hands, tiny body, but your heart sure is big," you teased, booping his nose. 

Felix giggled, stroking your cock at a languid pace, "Does this feel good?" he asked, looking for your reassurance. You nodded, "Of course it hah does," you groaned, wrapping your hand around his to pump your cock. Felix gulped at the size difference, his eyes blown wide with lust at the squelching sounds of precum leaking down your shaft. 

Hyunjin whimpered, feeling left out as he watched from the stairs. You knew he was there, his reflection was shown on the TV a while ago. "Hyunnie, come down here, angel," you cooed, gesturing him over. Hyunjin gulped but did as told his body instantly going next to Felix. You cooed, seeing his flushed out expression, "Were you feeling needy, angel? Did you want to touch it too?" you asked, stroking his cheek. 

Hyunjin nodded, rutting his bulge against his palm, "Can you teach us this time?" he asked, looking up at you with dilated pupils. You shuddered an exhale, "Definitely. You both have so much to learn," you said, stroking his hair.

"That's it, Lix. Keep riding that dildo," you instructed, grazing Felix's skin. Hyunjin cried out, his cock buried down Felix fluttering throat. His cockhead leaking and throbbing with precum. Felix whimpered at the taste, his prostate stimulated to the brink. "Fuck, hhgh, hah. Don't moan, Lix," he sobbed, clawing the couch. Felix whined, trying but the constant thrusts of the dildo pressing against his sensitive bundles of nerves made his head spin. 

Hyunjin whined, bucking his hips, "Cumming, hah, I'm cumming," he wailed, holding down Felix's head to the hilt. Felix choked on his cum, streaks of white dripped down his nose. You gently pulled him off and cleaned his face, "Blow," you instructed as he blew his nose. Hyunjin laid spent, his cock twitching against his torso. You chuckled, leaning down to wrap your hand around Felix's pretty cocklet, "Cum for me, prince. I know your prostate feels good but your body hasn't ejaculated from that pleasure before," you cooed, pumping his cock between your fist. 

Felix arched his back, sitting back on his heels as ropes of white squirted onto Hyunjin's knees. You pampered, kisses on his face, "Good boys, you did so good for your first lesson," you praised, not hearing the door unlock. Minho stood with his eyes wide, "What's going on?" he asked, trying to look away from your pulsing hard cock. You chuckled, "Minnie, don't look away. I like your eyes on me," you cooed, knowing Minho is a size queen. 

He hides his search history well but keeps his yaoi manhwas' on display thinking no one would know what they are. Minho scoffed, "Show some decency. I want no part of your endeavours," he said, setting the groceries aside. You stepped back, "If you really hate it, say the word peach. If you're wary but find all this attractive, say the word apple," you said, wanting to have a taste of him but you're demure, very mindful. 

Minho gulped, gripping the counter, "Apple," he said, biting his bottom lip. You smiled, "I'll take good care of you, kitten," you hummed, leaning Minho to the rest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're so tight," you hissed, gripping Minho's hips as he bounced on your lap. Minho whimpered, loving the sheer stretch of your hot veiny cock penetrating his puffy rim. You licked his chest, "You're such a dirty boy, aren't you. Your little hole had to be plugged up every day, didn't it?" You mocked, nipping his nipples. It was a shock to everyone when you undressed Minho only to see a pretty little jewel between his plump ass. 

Minho nodded, clawing your torso, "Yes, yes. Feel empty hhgh without it," he whined, riding your perfectly curved cock to pounded against his prostate. Felix mewled, pinned to the couch by Hyunjin, "Jinnie, your tongue is so long," he cried out, his ribbed walls stimulated by Hyunjins through thrusts. Hyunjin sucked on Felix's rim, "You taste so sweet baby," he groaned, marking Felix's inner thighs. 

You growled, thrusting your hips upwards to meet Minho's bounces, "Good kitten. You're so good for me. You're all mine now, understood. I'm never letting you all go," you  rambled, thrusting into Minho at a relentless pace. Minho screamed, cumming onto your torso at the sheer intensity. You bit his shoulder, groaning into his skin as you climaxed deep within his hole. Minho whimpered, slumping into your arms, "That felt amazing," he mewled, licking  the cum of your pec. 

You kissed his forehead, "Thank you for giving in," you chuckled, hearing Felix whimper from his high. Hyunjin pulled away, cumming into his palm, "Fuck, I don't think I can move," he groaned, feeling his knees lock up from kneeling too long. You chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll do the rest. Just enjoy the bliss for a bit longer, my loves. I'll take care of you," you whispered, sinking into the post-orgasmic haze.

[buggybambi]

I watched Bluey recently (yes I'm an adult who watches Bluey, its too good!! 😂) and I saw an episode where Bluey and Bingo deliever a love message to their mum and dad after they have a small disagreement, and I imagine Willow and Aurora doing something like that!

Just them being all giggly and secretive and Carmen's just so confused until he watches them give you the message 🥹

bluey is so good i will not apologize, also i hope its okay i changed this up just a bit love! - fem/mom!reader, 445

ʚɞ

It really wasn't an argument, rather just a chat about things you hadn't communicated. You and Carmy really tried to be perfect parents, but that just wasn't possible. Willow had a small habit of sneaking out of her room during naptime, and she overheard you and Carmy having a small disagreement. In her mind, of course, it seemed like you two were unhappy with ach other.

From that point, Willow decides she has to take matters into her own hands while you sit in Aurora's nursery, and Carmen is in the kitchen. She makes her way in, paper and crayons in hand. You smile at her as you sit in the rocking chair with Aurora, whose been fighting naptime for the past half hour, her eyes finally closing. "Hi, Wils. What's up?" You ask softly.

She doesn't answer, instead plopping beside you, beginning to scribble some hearts on the paper. You watch as she does this, her hearts looking more like blobs but at least she's trying her hardest.

She hands it to you. "Dada." She says. You finally catch on, exhaling. "Okay, okay. Let's go give this to dada." You say, as you stand, setting Aurora gently down in the crib before you walk hand-in-hand downstairs with Willow, her handing you the paper.

She points to Carmen, practically motioning for you to give him the paper. You laugh, kissing the top of her head. "Thanks, Wils. Go play, yeah? I'll take it from here." You say. You walk over to Carmen in the kitchen, greeting him with a kiss on the back of his shoulder like you usually do. "Your daughter drew this for me to give you." You set the paper in front of him.

He stares at it, a grin coming across his face. "Think she wants us to tell each other we love the other." You nod. "Something tells me that's what's happening." He turns to you, pressing a kiss against your lips, hands wrapped around your waist. "I love you." He says.

"I love you, too, Carm." You reply before turning to the doorway where Wilow's watching. You grin. "Come here, sweet girl." Carmen requests as she runs at him, jumping into his arm where he scoops her up, as he begins kissing her face, giggles bursting out of her.

You notice the small drawing on the edge of the paper that wasn't clear before. A stick figure of what you assume is you and Carmen, holding hands.

You stare at it until you're being attacked with kisses by Willow and Carmen, her giggles making you smile as she kisses all over your face, with Carmen doing the same thing.

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

shine on, shine on, my loves!

- mae

[starlost97]

— stubbornness.

summary: You just got home from the hospital, and are still learning how to walk properly again. You knew at the moment that you woke up from the surgery that Buck wouldn’t leave you alone. And you were right. He only went back to work when he couldn’t take any more days off, even though you insisted that he shouldn’t worry about you. The thing is, you are very stubborn, and it became even more obvious when you couldn’t do things on your own, but still wanted to.

tags: fluff, recovery, stubbornness, worried Evan Buckley, f!reader.

characters: Evan Buckley, Maddie Buckley.

warnings: allergic reaction, swearing, author’s medical knowledge is very very bad.

a/n: I got this idea after watching an episode of 911: Lone Star (no spoilers here, though), also searching epi-pen and paramedics aesthetic wasn't on my bingo card this year lol.

word count: 1,438.

requested?: no!

Once more, you opened your eyes and felt a sharp pain when trying to move. You always forgot about your legs.

“Oh, fuck.” You murmured, trying to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to alarm Buck even more on his first day back to work. “Buck?” You called, hearing noises of things being stumbled on and quick steps on the stairs soon after.

“Honey, hi!” He said, almost falling on the ground when rushing to the bedroom. “Here, let me help you.” Buck grabbed your waist and carefully got you out of bed. “Are you sure that’s ok for me to go back to work?”

“I promise, babe, it’s fine. I can take care of myself while you work.” You said, caressing his hair and cupping his face with your free hand. His blue eyes finding yours. You could tell that he was worried, but you knew how much he wanted to go back to work.

“You can call me anytime, ok? If I don’t pick up, someone will.” He hugged you and kissed your cheek, making you laugh.

“You’re going to be late, Buck.” You said as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“I love you, ok? See you tomorrow.” He said, kissing your lips and leaving the bedroom.

“Love you too!” You said, catching a glimpse of his smile as he went down the stairs. You waited until you heard the front door closing to start getting ready.

People always talked about how Buck was a workaholic, but they didn’t notice how you were just as bad as him. In the last weeks, you didn’t have the chance to leave the house and go to work, since Buck wouldn’t leave your side. But now, with your boyfriend going on a 24 hour shift, you had plenty of time.

You got ready as fast as you could and left the house, driving to the Los Angeles Service Center.

As soon as you arrived, you received a message from Buck asking if everything was ok. You smiled at your phone and answered, saying that there’s no need to worry.

You got to your floor, using a walking stick to get to your desk, which was right beside Maddie’s, so you knew she would see you there soon. But you were prepared to argue why she shouldn’t tell Buck you were there.

As soon as you sat down, you heard a familiar voice calling you by your full name, which would have startled you if you weren’t expecting it

“Maddie! You look so pretty today, you know that?” You said, smiling at her.

“You are unbelievable. Does Buck know you’re here?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“... No, and you’re not going to tell him.” Maddie opened her mouth to answer, but you were faster. “And you own me one, remember? I didn’t tell Chimney that you came in sick when he had specifically told you not to.”

“Well, it’s different. You are recovering from a surgery, when I was just a little constipated.” She said, putting her hands on her hips.

“You still said that you owned me one, so I’m claiming that favor now.”

Maddie looked at you up and down, trying to decide if you were being serious or not. Usually, you would hold onto a favor for dear life until you wanted something nearly impossible. Getting back to work was something that would happen eventually, so all you had to do was wait.

But you couldn’t wait anymore. At home, everytime you heard your phone ringing you got excited because it reminded you of work. It was pathetic. Before becoming a dispatcher, you always judged Buck for being so obsessed with being a firefighter. Being a nurse was good, and you loved helping people, but you got too overwhelmed at the end of the shifts with all those people around you.

“Look, I will be careful. It’s not like I will be moving much, right?” You could see Maddie holding her laugh.

“You do have a point.” She said as she sat right beside you, preparing for the first call of the shift.

Time passed, and you tried very hard to not talk on the radio when the 118 was attending the calls. Sometimes you heard Buck speaking and smiled, trying not to talk to him as you always did. You got used to having conversations while he did things that didn’t really require his full attention, and he loved doing that too. It was something that helped him a lot when he needed to relax.

As the day went by, you got more relaxed. You and Maddie shared lunch, and she helped you change your bandages.

“Everything looks great, honey.” She said as she finished, making sure that the medical tape was well put on your back. “Buck is doing a great job taking care of you.” You smiled at the comment.

“You know, the moment I woke up from the surgery, I knew that he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“He was so scared, honey. He wouldn’t leave your side.” She said as she started to walk back to her desk with you.

“He is a sweetheart, Maddie.” You said, sitting on your chair. “Even though I missed working, he made sure to make those weeks enjoyab-” Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a loud bang, followed by screams. You looked around and found one of the new dispatchers unconscious on the floor.

You and Maddie went as quick as possible — considering you were using a walking stick — to the girl, who looked like was having an allergic reaction. You asked someone to bring the medical kit, hoping to find an epi-pen.

“Nothing here.” Maddie said, looking at you, worried.

“Look at her bag! She might have brought it with her.”

You soon started to hear sirens, but you didn't think anything about it. Your focus was on the girl.

“She's here!” You heard Sue say, hearing footsteps coming in your direction.

“We think it's an allergic reaction, but we don't have any epi-pen.” Maddie said, making space for the paramedics.

“You are right. Chimney, give her some epi.” Hen said, measuring her heart rate.

You got up, standing right beside Maddie and putting your hand on her shoulder for support. You both were worried about the girl. It took you a minute until you realized that Buck was in the same room as you.

You waited until the girl woke up, which didn't take long. Hen and Chimney explained to her what happened, and she agreed to go to the hospital to get checked. This was the perfect moment to try to hide from your boyfriend, but you weren't fast enough.

“Y/N?!” You heard your boyfriend say, just as you were trying to get away.

“Hi, Buck.” You said, turning to his direction. “How's your day going?”

“What the hell are you doing here? You should be at home!” He said, looking worriedly at you, holding your hands.

“I was just getting some things with Maddie!” You lied, looking at your friend, who agreed with her head.

“Why are you in uniform, then?” He asked, crossing his arms, staring at you. You could see Chimney and Eddie looking at Hen, who had a smug smile on her face.

“Pay up.” She said, looking as both of the firefighters picked up their wallets.

“Buck, I’m fine! I swear. And there’s lots of well trained people here to take care of me if something goes wrong. Maddie even helped me change my bandages!” You said, and your boyfriend looked at his sister, who gave him an awkward smile.

Buck looked at you hesitantly before tilting his head and biting the inside of his cheek.

“I guess I can’t make you go home, huh?” He said, smiling slightly and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Look, please be careful, ok? Promise me that you will take any pain seriously. I don't want you getting any worse.” He smiled at you, kissing your lips.

“I promise, Buck.”

“And now that I know you're here, I want to hear your voice through the radio, ok?” You smiled, confirming with your head.

“I miss doing that.”

“Me too.”

“Ok, lovebirds, let's go. And I'm talking to you too, Chimney.” Hen said, startling Maddie and the firefighter.

“I gotta go, bae. I'll see you home.” Buck said, quickly kissing you before running through the door with the 118. “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

And just like that you spend the rest of your shift talking with your boyfriend through the radio.

Sometimes being stubborn pays off.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 23, wc: 571] - tarot card readings : n. yizhuo

YIZHUO COMING OVER AT FIVE in the morning just to do your tarot card readings wasn’t exactly on your 2024 bingo list. now, this isn’t unusual behavior; she’s come over at all sorts of unholy hours to do random stuff, and you let her because she’s yizhuo. warmhearted life of the party, yizhuo.

“what the hell,” you mutter, remnants of sleep blurring your eyesight as you open the door to see your good friend beaming at you with a dusty deck of tarot cards. “do you even know how to use those?”

she lets herself in, scooting around you and taking her shoes off to start beelining to your messy room. you trudge after her, too tired to complain about her uninvited but not unwelcome presence. once she settles comfortably on your bed, she grins and tilts her head, “i’ll never learn if i don’t try, what was that saying again? you have to learn to run before you can walk?”

“it’s you have to learn to walk before you can run, actually,” you correct, sitting across from her on the bed. 

the girl rolls her eyes, waving her hand, “po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

she then blows the dust off of the box, making you flinch and close your eyes before any dust ruins your day, and then places it in between the two of you, lifting the cover off. the deck is intricately designed, and you’re expecting to laugh when yizhuo gets the cards out because she absolutely sucks at shuffling a deck, but to your surprise she handles them like a professional.

perplexed, you raise a brow, “look at you, the little shit—you’ve finally learned how to shuffle!”

yizhuo sends you a playful glare, sticking out her tongue, and proceeds to faro the deck into a bridge, splitting it into three different piles on the bed. then, she draws three cards total from the piles, placing them face down in front of you. “what do you want to know about, your love life?” and without waiting for an answer, “you know what—let’s do love life. i bet you’re curious about that.”

“wait—” you try to protest, but she’s already gone into some kind of meditative state. yizhuo turns the first card over, and it’s the ‘death’ card… yikes. perhaps you have to accept your fate. “what does this mean for me, fortune teller?”

the girl hums for a second, scratching her chin, and her eyes light up with mischief. “you’re doomed.”

with no elaboration, she flips over the next card, which is the ‘hanged man’. “uh… double-doomed.”

“and,” again, she flips the last card, and it turns out to be the ‘devil’. “oh yeah. triple-doomed. sorry y/nnie, looks like your love life is hopeless—you already knew that though.”

“what was that?” you ready your fist, making yizhuo raise her hands up in innocence, “my love life is in shambles because everyone thinks we’re dating.”

good friend™  smirks, leaning back onto the bed which makes some of the cards on the top of the deck slip off to the floor. “you should be honored, babe.”

gross. “don’t ever call me that again.”

she giggles, pulling you over to lay on her chest. “i’m sleepy, babe. let’s go to sleep. it’s like six am.”

“whose fault is that? also, i told you not to call me that.”

and as expected, yizhuo ignores you. “good night, babe.”

love life be damned, you guess.

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : HAPPY BIRTHDAY NINGNING i didnt write ths in time i am so sorry

[legendofmorons]

Hello there! Can I request a work on a gender neutral reader being a parental figure to the chain? Reader is both wise but chaotic, and has little quirks like humming or holding on to the boys clothing to keep them from walking to far from them.

Parental instinct

Hi! I'm so sorry this was late, but I had so much fun with it. I might just do more of it.

Pairing: chain & reader

Rating: G

Summary: A look into life and the chain's parental figure

Warnings: none

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

You don't actually have a 2024 bingo card, but you know that being sucked into an adventure with nine heroes wouldn't be on it anyway. You should start making yearly bingo cards.

You step into something of a parental role, out of necessity mostly, but you're also probably a caretaker at heart.

So, after a few months, you've gotten the boys to really start listening to you. Which is a feat.

On days like today, you're thankful for the help Warriors, Time, and Twilight present. You need all the help you can get while coralling the heroes through the more modern hyrule.

You say modern, but you're all in the 1980s, with big hair, blur eyeshadow, and a lot of shoulder pads.

"Wind!" You call loudly, grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him from crossing the cross walk.

A car speeds by.

"What?"

"Please don't get run over." You say with that long suffering tome familiar to those responsible for chaotic gremlins.

"Didn't (Y/n) just go over traffic rules?" Legend huffs as if he didn't also have to be stopped by Warriors and the captain'squick reflexes.

"Shut up Legend you're just as bad." Wind sticks his tongue out.

"Boys!" You interject, "We're clear now, let's go."

You follow the chain, bringing up the rear.

Hearding them to a hotel and booking last-minute rooms is an experience that involves keeping Wind near you at all times.

(You promise yourself to find one of those cute animal backpack leashes. Or maybe nine of them, actually. That'd make keeping the boys in line easier.

Maybe Legend needs a monkey one.)

After you've gotten the rooms and divided them, you all settle in your room.

Four and Legend have taken a bed to themselves sitting side by side.

Sky, Wild, and Warriors sit on the couch. The three too tired to cause much trouble.

Time and Hyrule sit beside you on the third bed.

"We should totally try that pe-za." Wind declares as he flops himself over your lap.

"Pizza. But yeah, sure." You say as you toss Wild the remote to the TV.

Wild takes a minute but figures out the remote and starts flipping through channels.

You are ordering several pizzas through an app. You've got several large pizzas, lots of breadsticks, a few orders of salad, a few liters of soda, and a bunch of deserts by the time it's all ordered. Thank Hylia for rewards programs.

Wild has found full house and pit it on. Whether good or bad, nostalgia is probably there.

"(Y/n)!" Legend calls, "Tell Four to get his feet off my side of the bed!"

"Four." You say with a pointed look, "Stop tormenting poor Legend."

"He started it." Four says evenly, as though he isn't currently sticking his cold feet onto Legend.

"Hylia, grant me some patience." You mutter to yourself.

"Not strength?" Sky asks.

"If she gave me strength, I'd shake some sense into all of you."

Wind is laughing then, a little too much like a hyena, but he's happy, so we'll take it.

-------

After dinner and showers, the boys all gone to bed. You find yourself beside Time.

The old man is lying down, trying his hardest to sleep. But something seems to be bothering him.

It's instinct to start humming. The tune is old and familiar as your voice takes it on.

After a while, you look down, finding Time's face serene the way only peaceful sleep grants. Good. He needs it.

You didn't expect to gain nine kids this year, but you wouldn't trade them for the world. Ganon better watch his back, though. You'd kick his ass in a heartbeat for all he's done to your boys.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Across a Crowded Room (GN!Reader x M!Goblin)

Pairing: Flirty!GN!Reader x Male!Knight!Goblin

Genre: High Fantasy, Flirting, Sexual Tension

Word Count: 2576 words

Summary: You had entered the tavern with innocent intentions; to dance, to drink, and maybe take someone home, if they were interesting enough. But a certain goblin knight catches your eye, and you’re just dying to see him blush.

Request: Can I ask for your goblin knight x flirty reader? I want to see my boy blushing

If you want to read more about the goblin knight, check out here (SFW Headcanons) and here! (NSFW Headcanons)

No one throws better parties than knights, especially knights just fresh from a victory.

The clamering group came into your town just this afternoon, blood-soaked and smiling, shouting about free rounds at the local tavern. For a boring town just a couple miles from a well protected capital city, it was the most exciting thing to happen in months. Naturally, anyone and everyone who loves some good fun and alcohol was quick to congregate. 

Including yourself.

The tavern is packed, sweaty bodies and beer all clashing together as people dance and drink, the band playing to rapturous applause and intoxicated cheers. Soldiers have stripped most of their armor, surrounded by groups of desperate hangers-ons, here for the fascinating tales or to catch the eye of a handsome knight.

You’re more interested in the free alcohol and the music, but you can’t deny that these soldiers are good-looking. Would it be bad to have those calloused hands pushing up your shirt, salty lips sucking on your neck, all pent up and ravenous from weeks on the road?  

Damn, maybe you’ve had enough to drink.

You drop off your half-empty ale and pick up a fresh cup of water instead, thankful for the magical ice chest the tavern owner had just purchased/stolen off a drunken wizard. Your cheeks are still hot, but any dizzying fog fades quickly from your mind. Your eyes wander around the dance floor, wondering if anyones sober enough to be a good dance partner, or if it’s time to call it a night. Everyone seems to be partnered up already, and you think you’ll be walking home alone in the dark, when-

Bingo.

There in a corner booth, surprisingly free of drunken party-goers, sits a goblin knight in gleaming armor. His bulkier pauldrons have been removed, but his chest plate remains shiny and in place. He sips on something bubbly, something light and clearly not the hearty ale everyone else is indulging in. Yellow eyes survey the dance floor with a clear mind, a reserved smile on his face. 

Welp, guess I can stay another hour or so.

You slink between dancing and flailing bodies, trying not to seem too eager as you make your way to the lonely knight’s table. He only glances up once you sit down in his booth, giving you a polite smile, probably thinking you just need to rest your feet. 

Now that you’re up close you can see just how handsome he is. With that sharp jaw and slicked back hair, you’re surprised he isn’t fighting off propositioners with a stick.

“Hey there.”

“Hello.” The goblin gives you a nod, taking another sip of his prosecco. His eyes go back to the dance floor, still calm and casual. You slide across the booth seat, closer yet not to close, still trying to gauge interest.

“Not much of a dancer?”

The knight seems a little shocked you’re still talking to him, stopped half-way through another sip. He sets it down.

“I enjoy it, though I have less experience in this sort of dancing.” He waves his hand generally to the crowd, which are less dancing and more bouncing. The tavern is too crowded for any proper dances, so most people divulged into a mixture of shimmying and skirt tossing, often grinding someone to slide up next to and go back and forth. “Plus, my men are having a lot of fun already, it seems someone should stay behind and be responsible.”

“You’re the captain?” You slide another inch over. “That’s a hefty title, lots of hard work, sounds like you deserve most to let loose and relax a little.” You’re even more shocked now that he’s all by his lonesome; the captain is the one with most of the glory and prestige, someone you’d be proud to be on the arm of, even for just a night. The knight just laughs, gesturing to his drink.

“I appreciate it, but the wine has proven to be good company. Besides, I was never one to find getting into a drunken stupor to be very relaxing. A little too much vomit for my taste.” The knight runs a clawed hair through his slicked back hair, tucking back any loose strands. It shows off the strong muscles of his neck, just hidden behind his armor. You take an intake of breath.

“I see, I see. Are they any other ways you like to relax?” You finally close the gap between, the fabric of your pants legs touching his own, and throw your arm over the back of the booth. His tail twitches and his eyes glance down to your chest, clavicle exposed by your loose tunic. But this knight is a gentleman, and is quick to meet your eyes.

“I garden. Nothing too exciting, just some vegetables.”

“Really?” The curiosity in your voice is genuine, not the kind you force to keep the conversation alive. “I do too, mostly windowsill flowers, and the occasional herb and succulent. Though those tend to die on me, though. I’m not as familiar with desert plants.”

The knight's brow furrows thoughtfully, a thumb to his chin.

“How often do you water the succulents?”

“Uhm, maybe every 3 days.”

“Ah, that’s the issue.” The knight has locked in, turning his chest toward you. You become aware of how close your hand is to his leg, or his shoulder to your shoulder. “Succulents are small, but hardy. They only need water every week or so, some even less.”

“Oh, I never realized. I must have been drowning the poor things!”

“It's a common mistake, I made it myself the first time. Now they’re one of my favorites. Small but mighty.”

Much like yourself, Mr. Captain.

The stirring in your stomach is familiar, your heartbeat just a little bit faster. Handsome, polite, and knowledgeable without being condescending. Where has this goblin been hiding?

Well if no ones gonna snatch him up…I better do it myself.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask your name. How rude of me.” You scoot on more, fully breaking the normal boundaries. You hold out your hand. “I’m ____.”

The knight looks at your hand, then looks at you. You think you catch a hint of a blush at the tips of his ears, right before he grabs your hand and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

“Leon, my dear. A pleasure to meet you.”

His smile is infectious, one curling up at your lips.

Oh, I see.

“Should I call you captain? Seems only right with such an honorable position.” Your hand rests on his armored knee. There's two solid layers between you, but you can still feel him twitch at the touch.

“No need, I get enough of that from my men. Just Leon.”

“Ok, just Leon. Gardening’s a yes, dancing’s a no, what other things do you do for fun?” 

“Training, mostly. Not very exciting, but I personally enjoy the rigor and discipline of my work.”

“I disagree, good sir. I’ve seen knights train before, it is far from boring. In fact, me and my siblings used to make trips to the capital just to see them spar.” You chuckle, the old memory of betting on the good-looking knights resurfacing. Your teenage years were voracious. “Seeing them move so gracefully, so powerfully, with all that heavy armor and weaponry. It was enthralling. And if I’m being honest….” The hand on Leon’s knee moves upwards. Leon’s throat bobs, “...very attractive.” Your hand changes its course and moves to the outside of his thigh, tracing the empty sheath still tied to his waist. Leon exhales heavily out of his nose, his tail flicking by his side. “What weapon do you prefer most, captain?”

“Ah, my rapier.” Leon's voice only catches a bit, well-practiced dn maintaining his composure. If only that cute blush didn’t give him away. “Light, quick, and efficient. I am also proficient in a short sword, but I always find myself going back to the rapier.”

“Hmm good to know, I’m sure to become Captain you must have studied quite rigorously. I would love to see you spar one day, Leon.”

A tint of pride curls up the side of Leon’s lips into a smirk, his shoulders raising. He had been so bashful, but it seemed this was a skill he was comfortable bragging about.

“Well…” Leon looks at his men, all still drunk but most of them having found a suitable partner, a place to sit, or a bucket to throw up in. “I could show you right now.”

You sure your eyes are sparkling, your voice almost  a squeal.

“Yes please.”

—

And that’s how you find yourself outside, away from the warm fire and flowing alcohol, goosebumps all over as you watch  Leon demonstrate. He had procured his rapier from the tavern keeper, who had shown you a nice area outside with the proper amount of room. It was hard to say no to the Captain, after all.

“First you bow to your opponent. Respect is paramount to a proper duel.” Leon zips his feet together, bowing at a perfect angle, hand not even on hilt. “When it’s called, you may draw your weapon and ready yourself.” The gleaming metal shings as it’s pulled out from Leon’s sheath, his forearm muscle flexing with the smooth movement. He holds the weapon out and forward with only one hand, stepping his non-dominant foot backward. Yet Leon keeps his weight centered, his front toe ready to jab at any moment. “This is my preferred stance, as it allows me to be quick and fluid. Once the the match has started, I can make my first strike.” Leon is just as quick as one would expect, shoulder bursting forward to throw the sharp end of the rapier into his imaginary opponent's chest. “If I am blocked, I can easily move back and adjust.” He bounces on the balls of his feet as he scoots back. “I survey their next move, and then I may strike again-” Leon jabs forward, “-or parry a blow-'' Leon swipes his rapier diagonally, the force blowing a breeze across your face, “-or even block, and strike again.” Leon turns his blade, muscles holding steady as if real weight was applied, before he easily swipes his blade again. “If I hit, that is the end of the duel. As in real life, it only take one blow to slay you.” Leon flicks his blade in his hand, adjusting it to slide back into his sheath just as smoothly as before. He turns and gives a gracious bow, waving his hand to his single person audience.

You clap furiously, cheeks flushed from both the cold and your excitement. Seeing a person of such skill perform was always a thrill.

And very, very sexy.

You stand up from your seat, mimicking the excited whoops of a crowd. Leon plays into it, putting his hand on his chest in a faux-sense of embarrassment.

“And of course, always check on your opponent, and give a good handshake.”

Leon shakes his imagined fighter's hands, even mouthing words of “good fight, good fight.”

A strand of Leon's hair has come loose from his slicked-back style, hanging down in a curl against hsu forward. His cheeks are also flushed and his gloved hand goes to rub the back of his neck. You watch the bones crack as he stretches, the muscles flexing. 

Oh my gods, thank you for this sight.

“So, how about we-”

You’re rudely interrupted by a stool being thrown out a window, a mixture of excited gasps and the angry yells of a barkeep about paying for that echoing across the lot. Leon is next to you in a moment, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. He only comes up to your waist, yet you’ve never felt more shielded.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY OUT, NOW!”

Drunken patrons and knights spill out of the front, you and Leon forgotten out in the back area. No one seems harmed, mostly embarrassed and/or delirious. Probably a prank gone wrong.

“Seems that ale was much stronger than it tasted.” You murmur.

“Quite. So was whoever threw that stool.”

You guffaw, shocked once again by this Captain’s sense of humor.

“Well, if the tavern is closed, let me walk you back to your abode. I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.” Leon looks up aht stars, the moon high in the night sky.

“Uh, wouldn’t you like to check on your men?”

“They’re big boys, they can handle themselves. I would much prefer making sure you get home safe.”

Leon holds out his elbow for you to take. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you eagerly take it.

—

“I must thank you for your time tonight.” Leon pants, pushing back strands of loose hair behind his ears. “I was quite ready to spend the night with only my drink, left with my thoughts in that corner booth. But it has been a delight speaking with you. ”

“It was my pleasure, Captain. It’s easy to make fun when with such interesting company.” You nudge his shoulder with your hip, giving him another wink.

  Leon chuckles, a tinge of dark green colors at the tips of Leon’s ears.

“I could say the same.”

There’s a lingering something in the air as you two walk side by side, the brisk night air against your sweaty skin. Your eyes can’t help but wander over his exposed shoulder and neck, see the way his tail flicks back and forth in a slow pattern. The space between your paths slowly close, your clothes and his armor only breathes apart by the time you reach your doorway

“So,” Your hand brushes across Leon’s shoulder, goosebumps pebbling the back of his neck, “...would you like to come in?” You gesture with your head, a wry smirk curling up your lips.

For once, the captain seems lost for words, something almost caught in his throat. His gaze dances across your exposed shoulders, shooting hack up in an instant. Your index finger tucks another stray hair behind his ear, an almost imperceptible shiver running down his spine. You can hear your blood pumping in your ears.

A gentle, gloved hand daintily grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his shoulder with a polite smile. Your stomach sinks a bit, but you try not to let it show.

“Best if not.” Leon’s thumb rubs across your pulse before gently setting it down to your side. It’s a polite rejection, but you can't help feeling slightly embarrassed for reading him incorrectly, words knotting up in your stomach. So you nod, placing your hand into your pants pocket, hoping he doesn’t see it shake. 

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot-

“Of course, Captain. Have a good night.” 

You turn to your doorway, trying not to let the disappointment hit too hard.

“There’s a market tomorrow morning, in the grove. I’ve heard they’re supposed to have the most beautiful plants on display from all across the kingdom.” Leon worries the bottom of his tunic in his hands. “Would you like to join me?”

A childlike giddiness fills your stomach, how lighter than ever. You don’t hide your smile.

“I would love to.” You linger in your doorway, feet kicking as a blush heats up your cheeks. “Meet me here at 9?”

Leon’s canines gleam in the lamplight, his lips curling as he drops into the bow.

“It’d be my honor.”

[kydrogendragon]

Five times Dream failed at being a normal human around Hob and the one time Hob learned why (by Fall Out Boy)

Relationship: Dream/Hob Rating: Teen Words: 5641 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

For square A2 of the Dreamling Bingo. Masterlist can be found here.

1

Upon entering the cafe, Dream is met with two realizations. One, this place is, by far, the coziest place with reviews that promise excellent coffee in walking distance of his flat. The second, that Dream is never going to set foot in this building again due to the sheer beauty of the man behind the counter.

The man moves with well-worn grace, pulling shots of espresso and chatting with customers with ease. His longer chestnut hair is pulled up into a quintessential messy bun, a few strands stick out and frame his face from where they escaped confinement. Then, there is his smile, rich and wide, with lines and crows-feet at his eyes that give away how often he uses it. And when his honey eyes swipe across Dream, he can feel his heart stop in his chest.

His body moves on autopilot, queuing up in the ever-growing line as it would be socially unacceptable to leave as soon as one entered, after all. He has at least a handful of people in front of him. It gives him time to gradually coax his brain back into something functional rather than something that only revolves around rapidly growing fantasies of the man whose name he does not even know.

He watches, enraptured, as hands and arms, dusted with lovely dark hair, reaches into the case of pastries and plucks a delicate, golden-brown croissant from the shelf. There is strength in his build, yet tenderness in his touch. This does nothing but fuel images of how this man’s hands might feel upon his own skin instead. How he might wrap Dream tight in his arms, yet cradle his face with the delicacy of a freshly baked pastry.

“—can I get you?”

Dream blinks. He is standing in front of the counter and the man that now occupies every fantasy in his mind stares down at him with a friendly smile. There is a shadow of hair upon his jaw and chin and Dream wonders how it might feel brushed against the side of his face. He takes a breath. Dream was supposed to have more time to pull himself together. He swears there were more people ahead of him, when did they all leave?

He doesn’t even know what he wants. He has been spending far too long gazing at the man, who is even more enticing up close. The soft, golden lighting in the cafe reflects in the depths of his eyes and Dream feels himself falling into the pools of earth and warmth inside of them.

Then the man raises his brows in question and his smile falters. And Dream realizes he has yet to speak and this is where he is supposed to order something rather than gawk at the man like some infatuated teen.

“Black coffee,” he says.

Why the fuck did he say black coffee?

“Sure thing! What size for you?” The smile returns as his hand hovers over the stacks of paper cups of alternating sizes. Dream’s eyes are drawn to the movement like a moth to fire. Not an unfitting metaphor given how he feels he is close to burning up in the man’s presence.

“Medium.”

That is better than him saying large, at least.

“Perfect! I’ll get that right out for you. That’ll be two pounds even.” The man says, fingers lifting a cup off of the stack. His voice is, perhaps, even more charming than the rest of him. It sings, happiness in each note. And perhaps it is simply that the man is excellent at customer service, but Dream likes to believe that it is also just how the man is.

He blinks and fishes through his pockets for the cash to hand over to the man. He sets the coins in his outstretched palms and fails spectacularly at not cataloging how the pads of this man’s fingers feels against his palm.

“Name?”

“Pardon?”

“Name for the order? There’s a few black coffees so far,” the man says with another easy smile.

Again. Why did he order a black coffee? He hates black coffee.

“Dream,” he says and his heart flutters as the man smiles so wide his eyes crinkle.

“Dream,” his voice says, honey sweet. And now Dream knows how his name sounds on the man’s lips. “I like it. Well Dream, should be just a tick and it’ll be ready down at the end!”

Dream nods and slowly makes his way towards the back wall near the end of the counter and takes a breath for the first time since the encounter. His hands shake, even with their placement in the pockets of his trousers. He has, he thinks, not completely ruined that transaction. Not with the way the man smiled at him. He’d even…even said he liked Dream’s name. The only thing that would make it better is if he’d been cognizant enough to catch the man’s name.

Dream plays back the interaction in his mind when he’s dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of his name upon the man’s lips once more. He looks up and sees the man smile as he sets down his drink onto the counter before flitting back towards the nearly empty queue.

He smiles, grabs his drink and takes a sip.

And immediately spits it back into the cup. Why. Why did he order black coffee? Why couldn’t his brain panic and say literally any other drink?

Dream looks up and sees the man looking at him with concern in his eyes.

His blood runs cold as he stares back, wide eyed. Surely the man must hate him now. He’d wasted a perfectly good drink, insulted it even, and insulted him.

Dream rushes out, drink abandoned on the counter.

He can never come back here again.

~~***~~

2

It’s two weeks later before Dream dares to venture back to the White Horse Cafe again. Two weeks too soon, he thinks, as he steps through the doors. This time, for better or worse, there isn’t a line. There are a few patrons scattered in the mismatched, but charming seating. Most with either a book in hand from their own collection or freshly bought from the adjoining book store, or tapping away at laptops or tablets alike.

Dream takes a steady breath in before stepping up to the counter. The man’s back is to him at the moment, arms moving in gentle motions as he works on another’s drink. He takes this time to both mentally prepare himself to order something that’s not black coffee as well as to take in the sight of the man’s form. His clothes are dark this time around. A simple black tee is all that covers his upper body with sleeves loose over his biceps.

His breath hitches as he notices a grouping of small, black lines peaking out from both the collar of the man’s shirt as well as out of the sleeve of his left arm. The man is inked as well. It truly is as if he was plucked straight from Dream’s deepest fantasies. The universe is cruel.

Honey brown eyes meet his and part of Dream prays that he does not recognize him. But of course, he does.

“Hey, good to see you again! Decided to give us another shot?” the man calls to him with a smile. He places a lid on the cup he’d been working on and sets it on the counter before meeting Dream at the register.

“I—” He was unprepared for such a question. He’d prepared himself for what he would drink or what he may eat, yet somehow he hadn’t prepared himself for the man joking around with him. He’d thought he would have been viewed with bare minimum politeness, not…this. “No.”

No?

The man cocks his head. “No?”

“No! I mean—” Dream panics. Nothing good comes from him panicking and yet…“—Yes, just not with regular coffee.”

“Mm, that bad?” There is still a smile on his face. That is a good sign.

“Yes.”

Yes!?

“Ouch, brutal honestly. Refreshing, though. Most people just suffer through it if they don’t like it then tell me it was great. Doesn’t help me out much, though. What didn’t you like about it?” the man laughs. Dream’s eyes dart down away from the cheery gaze that’s aimed at him. Then he spots the mysterious nametag he’d missed the first time.

Hob.

The man’s name is Hob. It is a name he has not heard before, though he is not one to judge. Suddenly, he now has a name to the face that has featured in 65% of his waking thoughts and 90% of his dreaming ones. This is both a curse as well as a blessing.

“Hob,” he whispers. Which only draws the man’s attention to him. And then he panics, yet again. “Black coffee is an excellent choice to establish a baseline of quality for a business. It is hard to achieve a truly exceptional one.”

“And ours definitely didn’t meet your standards, I take it?”

“No.”

Why does he keep talking? It is not as if he is an expert in coffee. He comes more for the rush of sugar rather than caffeine. Now Hob is surely going to think he is some sort of coffee snob like his sister. Why does he do this to himself.

The man taps his fingers on the counter top in thought. “Well, any suggestions on how to improve it? Maybe a better coffee bean distributor or roastery? Or maybe you’ve some good tips on the preparation—”

“There is nothing you could do that would end in a cup of black coffee I would enjoy.” He should never speak again. While he wasn’t incorrect, it is for no fault of Hob’s nor any roastery or individual coffee bean. He is tempted to race out of the building right this instant, especially as the easy smile falls completely from Hob’s face. He has ruined this. He had come back, intending to fix things and he ruined it.

“Right,” Dream tries not to die on the spot at how the cheerful tone in Hob’s voice vanishes. “Well, anything that’s not coffee that I can offer you?”

Dream swallows against the lump in his throat. “A small vanilla latte.”

Hob nods. “Coming right up.”

Dream is never coming back here again.

~~***~~

3

Dream is back at the White Horse Cafe, though not by his own will this time. His sister insisted upon catching up—something he is not disinclined to—but she picked the location this time and chose here, due to it’s proximity to his own flat. Kind of her, in theory, though disastrous in truth. Dream could have, theoretically, asked that they meet elsewhere, but he knows his sister. Telute would not have dropped the subject as to why Dream didn’t want to meet there and then he’d be forced to explain the disaster that is his interactions with Hob. And there is no way that he is doing that. So he steps into the cafe and hopes that his sister is already there.

The cafe is empty of her presence and Dream can feel his shoulders tense. Slowly, he turns his eyes towards the counter and sighs out in relief at the lack of the handsome man. Instead, a woman with short curly hair stands in his place. Dream approaches the counter and manages to order his usual large (not small) caramel (not vanilla) latte from the woman he now knows as Peggy. The drink doesn’t take long and he grabs it from the counter once it’s ready and finds a seat, tucked back into the corner, away from the crowd and view of the register.

He waits, sipping at his drink as he stares at the screen of his phone, waiting for his sister’s arrival. Then, a few minutes later, her face appears beside a text.

Dream, so sry, work got craaazy! Raincheck? <3 — T

He sighs and rests his head against the top of his phone. He has risked yet another terrible incident (far too soon for Hob to forget Dream’s existence, at that) and for nothing.

Dream looks down at his bag and considers, given that his drink is still full and the place is currently Hob-less, that it would, perhaps, be safe to stay here for a time and work. That had been his initial plan when he’d first come here, after all. The atmosphere of a cafe, especially a quaint and quiet one such as this, is unbeatable for his productivity. Words fly from him with ease that he struggles to achieve in many other places. And, as he looks around, there is even an outlet beside this table. Such a perfect opportunity may never present itself again.

So, Dream retrieves his laptop and charger from his bag, plugs himself in, and opens his word document and the words fly.

He’s pulled forth from the world spawned to life with fingers and keyboard by the sound of a mug on his table and a shadow falling across his face. Dream looks up and freezes when he sees familiar chestnut hair and warm eyes.

Hob stands beside him, hands now resting in the back pockets of the denim he wears. His hair is set free, the longer locks falling in front of his face as he smiles. Saliva pools in his mouth (he’ll blame it on the smell of pastries later). Looking up at him at this angle was one he was wholly unprepared for. He has imagined such angles before, though in manners he is certain Hob would ban him from the premise for mentioning aloud. He hates that he knows this knowledge will feature heavily in his imaginings tonight.

"Sorry for interrupting,“ Hob says, nodding towards the newly made drink. ”Just wanted to say I was glad you gave us another shot. And to give you a refill, on the house, as a thanks. I know we're still new so if there's anything you think needs changing, let me know!"

Dream’s gaze finds it cannot move from the sight of Hob standing over him. The way the light shines behind him, casting a near halo around his head. He is bathed in the now late afternoon glow that shines in from the front windows. He is truly beautiful here. The fact that Hob works here is more than enough (if only Dream was capable of being normal then he would be a regular here), so there is very little he could imagine changing.

Though…

The thought of Hob changing, specifically how he would shed his shirt, tacky with sweat built up by working in the heat and steam of pastries and coffee, is one Dream has no problem imagining. How his hair would look splayed out on the dark sheets of Dream’s bed, how his stomach would flex under his hands. How Hob would beg for more as Dream slowly eases his jeans down further and further. Yes…the only things Dream wishes to change is—

“You.”

Fuck.

Hob’s jaw tenses and Dream can watch in real time as his face closes. This smile, this new smile, is one he has witnessed on many underworked retail workers. It is impersonal, disingenuous, and as Desire often describes, dead inside. And Dream has placed it there with his inability to be a functional human.

He is a disgrace.

Dream watches, frozen in place, as Hob simply nods and walks off without another word. If he had not ruined things before, he most certainly has now. No longer would there be a chance to fix things. No longer would he be welcome in these walls. Hob surely thinks Dream hates him. If only he knew…

He slowly turns back towards his laptop. He saves his document, turns it off, and packs his bag. He gives a look back to the offering Hob had given him. It is still warm in the ceramic mug, and wafts with scents of caramel and cinnamon and topped with a dollop of whipped cream. It looks heavenly. Dream’s stomach churns.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves, vowing that this time, he will never return.

~~***~~

4

Dream is beginning to think the universe is out to spite him personally as he stands in line at the White Horse Cafe yet again.

This was, once again, not by his own choice. Rather, Lucienne had insisted upon grabbing a drink during their lunch break and claimed she knew of a lovely spot a few blocks down. By the time they turned on this street, Dream knew where she was taking them, but it was too late to suggest anything else. He spent the few sparse minutes he had left before the walked through the doors to prepare himself.

He determined—given that any other reaction would result in him needing to explain the issue to Lucienne which, like his sister, was unacceptable—that he would simply ignore Hob to the best of his abilities. It was hard, not following the man as he worked with efficiency behind the counter alongside Peggy, but he willed himself to focus on what Lucienne was saying to him instead.

He felt proud for catching 75% of what she said.

But now, they stand just two people away in the queue from the register and Hob has been primarily handling transactions thus far. This means Dream will have to speak with him. And order. And not mess things up yet again. All the while, not cluing Lucienne into his constant internal debate he’s had going since about two blocks down from here.

“—should expect to have a new shipment in by tomorrow. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind dropping by and signing a few copies on the shelves?” Dream blinks away from where his eyes were latched onto the pastry case and definitely not Hob’s backside.

“Mm.”

“You’ve been quieter than you usually are. Are you alright?”

Dream sighs and turns towards his friend. “I am fine, Lucienne. I am simply…tired.”

She gives him a soft smile as she looks up at the sprawling drink board. “Well, caffeine will do you some good, then. What are you getting? My treat as a congratulations for signing that contract.” As much as he does not wish for her to spend her money on him, Dream is glad that this means he will not need to order the drink himself.

“A large caramel latte.” He turns his gaze towards the floor. “Please,” he tacks on to the end.

It does not take them long to reach the front. Hob is there; he hears his voice directed toward Lucienne. Dream purposefully stands off to the side of her and clenches his teeth lest his mouth betray him for a fourth time in front of this man. It is a unique form of torture, forced to listen to the sound of Hob’s voice and knowing he is not allowed to see him. If Hob sees him, if Dream meets his eyes, then he will be forced to see the hatred that surely lies inside. And he cannot handle that. It is bad enough he is here in the cafe, thankfully he has Lucienne as a buffer, but the next time she asks if he wishes for a coffee, he will have to ensure this is not a repeated destination.

The order is complete and Hob directs them towards the counter as usual, though Lucienne steers them towards a table first and Dream’s heart sinks. He should have known they would stay here to drink. Part of him is tempted to ask Lucienne if she would prefer a table outside, though she would see right through him. He has never been one for outdoor dining in any form.

It doesn’t take too long before their drinks are ready. Dream stays seated as Lucienne stands and fetches them. He wants to look up, to see where Hob is, if he’s ignoring Dream’s presence as well, but he knows he shouldn’t. It would only torment them both.

And yet.

Dream looks up from the table to see Hob cheerfully taking orders as if nothing is wrong. And there isn’t, he supposes. There is only something wrong with him. Then Hob looks over. And their eyes meet. And Dream’s breath stops and Hob holds his gaze for seconds longer than normal, but he does not smile. Hob breaks contact first, looking down before turning away.

Dream feels sick. He should not have come. He should have insisted that they meet elsewhere and save Hob the trouble that is Dream’s existence. But all that is left is to get through their time here and then he will leave Hob alone in peace. As he deserves.

~~***~~

5

His sister insists he is an idiot.

This is not news to Dream. He is well aware of his faults and failures as a functioning human, but he tries. And, after listening to her hour lecture followed by constant quips at his expense for the rest of the night, Telute successfully convinces Dream that, at the least, he should go and apologize to Hob so the poor man does not think he is hated for no reason. So, after having sworn he would not go back to the White Horse for the fourth time, he finds himself inside the White Horse yet again.

There is a decent queue already, which surprises him for how late in the evening it is. With a sigh, he lines up, mentally rehearsing the apology he would give Hob. He will explain…well, maybe not why he has been as rude as he has to the man (as that would entail explaining how Hob’s charm and attractiveness has removed any shred of normalcy and logic from Dream’s mind), but he would explain how poor he is with social functions in general. And that, while he does not expect Hob to forgive him, he hopes Hob will understand.

Peggy, he notes, is here again as well as another employee. This place is growing. Or, perhaps, this employee has always been here and this is simply the first time Dream has seen her. It is not as if Dream is a regular, after all. As much as he had initially planned on being such.

The queue moves quickly. Hob handles the register while the other two handle the drinks and food. It is efficient and, much to Dream’s dismay, makes the line move faster than he wishes. Before he knows it, he is standing in front of Hob for the fifth time.

Hob gives him a weak smile—not a standard service smile, nor the bright ones he had first received from the man, but rather something close to pained or tired—and speaks. “What can I get you?”

To which Dream eloquently replies with, “I—your coffee is decent.”

Hob’s lips quiver as the weak smile he’d worn threatens to grow. "Going to attempt a black coffee again? We've changed our distributor since then and lots of people said they like the stuff better.”

"No. The black was disgusting.” Hob's smile falls once more and Dream winces. This is not going as he had planned.

"Right. No black. Your usual then?”

"I…yes…Yes, just the usual.” Dream digs for his card as Hob rings him up. The words he wants to say feel trapped behind his teeth, all mixed up and wrong. He clamps them down tight, afraid of what terrible concoction would be released if he dared speak. All that waiting and rehearsing, nothing but a waste. He cannot even apologize correctly. He should have never listened to his sister. He should have stayed far away from Hob and the White Horse. He does nothing but cause hurt.

When Hob hands him back his card, rather than a polite “thanks” his brain decides to say, “You are not disgusting,” and he proceeds to die inside.

Thankfully, Hob looks more confused instead of being offended further. “...thanks? I think. Um…your order should be ready at the end of the bar here shortly.”

So, Dream goes. He waits diligently for his order. He watches Hob smile and chat with the other customers in line and lets himself pretend that is him that Hob talks to. He watches, and catalogs, and when his drink is ready, he leaves with a final glance behind him at the White Horse.

And then is immediately greeted by the heavens opening up the moment he steps outside the door.

Thunder rolls in the dark clouds up above. Rain slams into the pavement and the chill in the air slices him to the bone. Had this been literally anywhere else, Dream would go back inside and wait the storm out. But he knows he cannot. He should not. So instead, he sits at one of the tables sheltered away from the rain by the canopy above him and sighs. At least his drink is warm.

~~***~~

+1

Hob wipes his hands off on a paper towel and tosses it into the trash. Sweat still gleams on his forehead and his legs ache from standing so long, but he’s glad to finally be off for the day. As much as he enjoys owning this place, it can get really fucking tiring.

He sighs as he exits the employee bathroom and nods towards Peggy and Jo who are currently manning the cafe. He’s grateful that Jo agreed to help part-time. Lately, they’ve been getting busier and busier and as much as Hob loves the extra business, it was getting to the point that he and Peggy couldn’t keep up. Eventually, he predicts, he’ll need to hire someone else full-time. Maybe a designated baker. He’d do it himself, but he loves chatting with the customers too much to give that up. Well, save a few. And save a very specific man who he’d unfortunately seen again today.

Dream.

Hob has no idea what he did to anger the man so much, but the contempt he’s got for Hob is plain to see. Christ, and that glare of his. Downright bone-chilling at times. And he doesn’t treat Peggy that way, either. He’d asked. When Hob had seen him in the line, he was tempted to swap out with Peggy for a bit just so he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever insult the man would spit back at him. But today wasn’t an insult…he didn’t think. He was, apparently, “not disgusting.” Which, maybe for Dream, is a compliment.

With a sigh, Hob steps out and is greeted by both a massive downpour of rain as well as the man that’s been haunting his working life for the past four months. There Dream sits, back turned to the cafe, with his hands curled around his coffee like a life-preserver of warmth in this chilly weather. He’s shaking, even. Christ, the man ordered almost an hour ago. Has he really been here the whole time? Why the hell didn’t he come inside?

He moves before his brain can think and sits himself in the chair across from Dream. He folds his hands atop the table and stares at him. Clearly Dream didn’t hear the door open over the thunder and the rain as his eyes are wide as they stare back. Fuck, he looks cold. There’s barely a hint of red in his face. Was being even in the same building as Hob so terrible?

"Did I do something to you?“ he asks, brows furrowed. ”You keep coming back so clearly it's not the place or the coffee that you hate, it's just me, so…" Hob bites his lower lip and shakes his head as he trails off. He doubts the man would even give him an answer. Probably just huff and ignore him like he had last time he was in.

Instead, Dream flounders, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish out of water. It’s so far from the stiff, almost regal air he always carried with him before that it takes Hob aback. Maybe the man’s brain was going from the chill.

He sighs as his face falls, hiding behind the drink in his hands. Hob has to strain to hear the quiet words over the sound of rain, but he does manage to catch, “It…is not you. I am…bad. With people.“ Hob blinks. “I am…sorry. For the—for everything.”

Suddenly, each past interaction flashes through Hob’s mind with haunting clarity as the missing piece of the puzzle slots into place. Christ, it’s obvious now. The man was clearly just shite at interacting with people. And knowing Hob and his overly personal manner of service, he’d probably made it ten times worse on accident. And then proceeded to worry over it, thinking it was something more personal than it was.

"Fuck,“ he says, his head collapsing into his hands. ”I'm sorry. I just…I've been trying to figure out what it was I did so I wouldn't annoy you in the future. Got so wound up in myself I didn't even think…and now I'm accosting you while you're just trying to enjoy your coffee. Christ, I'm sorry. I'll leave—"

"No!" Hob blinks in surprise. "I mean…I…" Hob raises a brow, but waits, trying to give time for Dream to speak. He gives the man a smile, hoping maybe it’ll ease any fears. Dream takes a breath before speaking again. "I would. Enjoy your company. If—if I have not made you hate me."

Hob chuckles and lets himself relax. "Not at all. Why don't we start over, huh?“ He holds out his hand and smiles. ”Nice to meet you. I'm Robert Gadling. Friends call me Hob."

Dream stares at his outreached hand, but Hob waits and is rewarded by Dream reaching out to shake it in return. “My name is Morpheus Endless. My friends call me Dream.”

“Nice to meet you, Dream.”

“It is nice to meet you as well, Hob.”

“What do you say we go back inside where it’s warm, yeah?”

Dream smiles—actually smiles—and then stands. “I would like that.”

~~***~~

+2

A year later

“Here you go, dove,” Hob says, setting his boyfriend’s favorite mug—black with rainbow speckles like stars—beside his computer, next to the half-eaten pain au chocolate. He’s since perfected the recipe after Dream had, lovingly, critiqued that the croissant suffered from not raising as much as others due to it’s fillings. Now, it’s equally as fluffy (and buttery) and filled with perfectly melted chocolate. They’re his favorites and he’s been told a few times since that they’re the best ones in the neighborhood by other customers. He may or may not have added the croissant and caramel latte to the menu as a “Dream Special” as well, in Dream’s honor. Dream pretends he hates it, but Hob has learned to read his expressions by now.

“Thank you,” Dream says, leaning up for a kiss which Hob indulges him in. It’s rather strange to think that over a year ago, Hob thought Dream had hated him, though he’s since learned that it wasn’t simply Dream’s anxiety with strangers that caused him to be as brusque as he was. No, Hob learned the truth behind their early interactions.

Apparently, and much to Hob’s chagrin, Dream had been too busy drooling over Hob to form any sort of polite response. It was a fact he lorded over his poor boyfriend for a good few weeks after, but he feels he earned it. After all, Dream made him question their interactions for days after each one. He’d earned a bit of retribution.

Now, it’s just a thought that makes him smile every time he catches Dream’s intense gaze on him as he works. And if he wears a bit tighter shirts on warm days, or makes sure to flex his muscles when he knows Dream’s watching, well, it doesn’t hurt anyone, right? And if he enjoys knowing that his boyfriend used to jack off to the idea of kneeling before Hob when he’d brought over that free refill all those months ago because he learned what Hob looked like from that angle, well…okay. Hob’s just a man. He might tease him about that a bit more than Dream really deserves, but it’s incredibly flattering, okay? Can you really blame him?

“How’s the next book going?” Hob asks, peering down (and maybe purposefully pressing his chest against Dream’s ear) at the laptop. Dream’s finger’s twitch above the keys. He hears his lover takes a deep breath and Hob can’t help but smile.

“It…is going well. I am nearly finished with the first round of edits.”

“That’s incredible, love. So proud of you.” Dream hums and leans against Hob. His eyes flutter close and Hob wonders how he manged to get so lucky as to keep this ridiculous creature.

“Does this mean,” Dream says, tilting his head up to peer into Hob’s eyes. “That I have earned a reward?”

Hob smirks. “What kind of reward were you thinking?”

Dream’s eyes narrow in that predatory fashion that gets Hob’s blood racing. “Perhaps…dinner. At the Italian place we like. And then…dessert at home?”

“Mmm, sure you don’t want dessert first?” Hob teases. He watches as Dream’s eyes darken and he thinks to himself that it’s a bloody good thing that he owns the place and can cart Dream away into the storage closet with him because he’s not sure if he’ll make it through his shift.

“Perhaps we can be indulgent and have dessert twice?” He feels Dream’s hand reach up the back of his thigh and squeezes the globe of his arse. Christ, he’s definitely going to need that storage closet.

“For you love? Anything.”