#we stayed up for the watch party and were just looking at each other like 👀👀👀😧😧😧

[katseyeronic]

Sides

Gn!reader x Sophia + Manon

summary: It is set in stone since you two were young that you and Sophia will always be on each other's side no matter the circumstances but maybe just this once, you might not be.

tags: fluff, angst, Chilhood lovers! Sophia and you, Established relationship between you and Manon, Use of profanity, reader look was pissing me off but we ball... Taylor swift reference iykyk :)

a/n: I'm doing the evil villain fingers right now. I literally listened to all too well to write Sophia"s parts. IM SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING FOR FINALS. no one saw how I accidentally posted it earlier on. ( I dont know who is endgame help.)

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

Since the two of you met, there was always this unspoken rule. Remain loyal no matter what. That doesn't matter if it meant choosing partners during projects or even having to pick Sophia up from work even if you were on a perfectly good date with a girl from school. Sophia definitely didn't do that on purpose.

Besides all that, the both of you stuck with each other throughout your whole lives. You hadn't started breathing until you met her and Sophia hadn't truly lived until she had met you. In a way, it was as if destiny had snuck its way between you two.

But nothing comes without a price, especially something too perfect, delicate and calming like the dynamic between Sophia and you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

The news that Sophia would be attending Dream Academy was no shock to anyone, and it definitely didn't come as a shock to you. You were always supportive and on your girlfriend's side no matter what. Even now while she's breaking up with you, you nod understandably. You shouldn't be holding her back anyways.

She smiled promising to keep in contact with you while she rambled about how it would be good for her to pursue her dreams. She didn't even look upset that she had just broken up with you seconds ago and you? you kept that same smile listening as she talked.

Sophia hugged you that day and your smile finally cracked but you didn't cry because after all, it was better to have her as a friend than nothing at all besides she promised to keep in contact, right?

Wrong.

The calls became a constant thing to waiting up till the sun rises just for an apology text from her until there was no apology at all. Her name, once said softly, now was said with a bitter tongue. Someone brings up how Sophia debuted? You're out the door in seconds. You don't want to know how she's doing nor did you want to know who she debuted with.

Her name and the memories she left behind alongside you became a wound too deep to ever close. When you watched the doors at night after your small birthday party that the Laforteza's and your family hosted, just having that small hope that she would turn up with her hair a mess, panting and looking at you with that sheepish smile saying "Happy birthday!" with a small ruined cupcake, her dad stood next to you placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It's supposed to be fun turning 21." He muttered offering a small smile, he had watched as your eyes flickered to the door awaiting his daughter company yet it never came and he saw the light in you dim every second. You might run anytime someone brings Sophia up but that small hope of her coming back always stayed with you.

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When you met Manon Bannerman the first week of your job after moving to LA for a refresh of life, you didn't expect her to be in a global rising girl group nor did you expect for her to stay in your mind alongside her coffee order.

You had ran from love and relationships your whole life after Sophia but you know what they say, outrun love and it'll chase you like it knows something you don't and love came in the form of Manon.

She was no quitter, you were cute and you barely knew who she was so thats a plus. you saw her for her. a rare thing nowadays it seems for her. When you two started dating after multiple attempts of you pushing her away, she had told you to not search anything up before you meet her bandmates. First impressions were important and she didn't want yours being because of social media which you had complied with understandably.

When you met Manon Bannerman, you didn't expect her to be in a girl group with your ex best friend and girlfriend AKA Sophia Laforteza which led you to the predicament right now, your jaw agape and your hand forward to shake Sophia's who froze.

"Do you two know each other?' Manon asked confused as you stared speechless as the other girls raised a brow realising the tension. "Yeah, Sophia, you're staring like you'd seen a ghost." Lara joked. Perhaps she has. She'd seen the ghost of her past life and the memories she placed away, far from what she wanted in her future. This wasn't supposed to be something she had in her future, she wasn't supposed to see you this early into her career when it was just starting out.

Sophia composed herself shaking your hand firmly, "They helped me with the groceries at the mart once and we had a small conversation about living in LA." Sophia lied smoothly and your smile faltered. She's pretending to not know you? "I'm Sophia! Manon talks about you a lot."

You hummed and let go of her hand like it burned you as you went back to Manon's side and everyone fell into a conversation. Somehow believing Sophia's lie. You could almost scoff at the slight glance Sophia gave you. How dare she erase years of history? She lied with the same lips that had been on yours years ago. The same lips that lied about staying in contact. Sophia must be a damn good liar then if everyone kept believing her carefully illustrated lies.

"You okay?" Manon murmured softly careful to not let anyone hear. She knew how much you hated having people attention fall onto you. She knew you before you even knew yourself. You forced a small smile and she knew it was fake yet knew better to pester so she held your hand and squeezed it every few seconds as a reminder that she isn't leaving.

Sophia stared at you, and when you looked this time, she didn't look away. Instead her brows were furrowed like she was trying to figure you out, like she knew you were lying about being fine.

"I'm going to take some fresh air." You whispered to Manon who looked at you unsure.

"Do you want me there or do you want space from everyone?" Manon asked and you knew both answers wouldn't hurt her. That's the thing you adored about Manon. She knew if you needed space, it meant from everyone including her and it wasn't with malicious intent unlike Sophia who used to be hurt when you needed space from her too.

"I'm okay. I'll be back, just leave a space here for me, yeah?"

"Always.” Manon said like it was crazy for you to even ask. Of course she'll leave a space for you, she always has since the day you met and you've done the same.

You let out a breath of relief when you went out, finally some alone time. Or so you thought. "You aren't okay." A voice you recognised so well but not the person with it. "Why'd you lie?"

“Why did you?” You retorted annoyed. You seem to be questioning a lot of things every time you’re even around Sophia Laforteza. She clicked her teeth. Touché.

"For you." Sophia said and if it wasn't for that small frown on her lips, you wouldn't have taken that answer. God, why were you still talking to her?

"She'll find out." You whispered shaking your head disapproving the lie. "I won't lie to my girlfriend, Sophia."

"Do it for me." Sophia whispered back holding your hands and you flinched for a second before you relaxed as if your hands had found its way back home once again. "Do it for the version of me that you still have in your memory."

You hesitated, this was Sophia and you were always on her side but was she ever on yours?

"Fine but if this backfires, thats on you."

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

The next few weeks were confusing to say the least, you avoided Sophia as much as you could avoid your girlfriend's leader but there were subtle changes in your mood. You ate less, you smiled less as if the guilt of not telling your girlfriend was eating you alive and Manon? She was more worried than ever for you, constantly ranting to the girls about it and how weird you always were nowadays around her.

"Okay so i bought two meals, i had said one to the cashier but i guess she heard two and you know how much i hate wasting food so could you finish this?" Manon smiled sheepishly as she got into the car passing you the paper bag full of food.

The story didn't make sense at all but who were you to judge so you sighed nodding your head as you drove to an abandoned car park to eat with her.

As you took the first bite, you saw from your peripheral vision that small accomplished smile on Manon's face as she looked at you. God knows what you accomplished but you weren't going to question it.

You hadn't realised how much you needed a proper meal until you and Manon ate and talked about the plans. "Thank you." you gave her a small kiss on her lips to which she grinned with a loving gaze all directed to you.

"You know i'd do anything for you." Manon whispered looking at you. Of course she knew you weren't okay but she also knew how much you valued space and if it was important to you, it's important to her. "I'll be here the second you're ready to talk about what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." You lied quickly jumping to your own defence and you knew that Manon knew you were lying with that small look in her eyes that told you everything. The eyes that made you fall for her hard and she became the only exception to everything you had shut off after Sophia.

"Okay." Manon said half-heartedly. She didn't believe the answer but she won't rush you but rather give you the space to figure it out on your own and if you can't, she's there too. "I love you." Manon said as if it was as simple as breathing and you froze.

She. Loves. You.

"I don't expect you to say it. It wouldn't have said it if i needed to hear it in return but i won’t lie and say i dont have hope that one day you'll be ready to say it and mean it." Manon confessed looking at you who looked like you were ready to run from your own car. "I know you're scared, possibly because of what you told me happened with the girl from your past."

You were ready to speak up and tell her who it was when Sophia's words rung out in your brain. Do it for that version of me. And the next words Manon spoke stopped you from telling her the whole story even more. "I'm not her, l'll never be her because I love you more than enough to stay and I would never let us become what you two were, I promise." Manon said desperately hoping you don't run. You sigh shakily, the word stuck in your throat.

God, why couldn't you just say it back? You knew you wanted to. Perhaps it was the guilt that you haven't been fully honest or perhaps it scared you to death that the girl you were once in love with is best friends with the girl you're in love with right now, if you even knew what love felt like anymore.

You kiss her softly but surely, apologising in the kiss, pouring everything out but never actually getting the words out and Manon took it, she took everything you gave her because she is not backing out after finally having you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

When you reached home after dropping Manon off, what awaited you was Sophia in your house, cooking. "What the fuck?" You scoff as she made it to be her house.

"You still hide keys below your doormat. Not a wise idea in this city." Sophia pointed out as she cooked and you smelt it. Sinigang. Home.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here in my house cooking."

"Making sure your idiotic ass eats. Manon keeps worrying about how you haven't eaten a proper meal in days." Sophia snapped at you, "So I won't take no as an answer. Sit down and eat." You were about to argue that you had just eaten a whole meal with Manon but she looked at you sternly and no one won an argument against Sophia and lived to tell the tale.

You grumbled sitting down as she passed you a bowl. "I wont lie and say i wasn't worried too." Sophia muttered sitting down across from you as you complied with eating, it wasn't because you were still hungry, it was more to shut her up and get her out of the house because you couldn't think around her.

"You have no right to be." You spat, barely glancing at her as you ate and that had landed harder than the day she chose to walk away from everything you two had because this wasn't heartbreak. She could deal with heartbreak.

This was resentment, built up resentment and she felt every ounce of it. Resentment that used to never be directed at her and she stayed silent, letting the tension settle. Not because she disagreed, no. It was because deep down, you were right.

She had no right to be in your life anymore, no right to take care of you, she had no right to be jealous or seethe at the sight of Manon smiling because she knows that smile was because of you.

She had no right missing how she had that smile back then too and how she hasn’t smiled like that since she left you.

"You act like I wasn't hurting too. You cant dictate the past. You don't get to rewrite history and cast me as the villain." She snapped narrowing her eyes at you and you paused looking at her. "You act like this child who lost everything but i lost something too!"

You got up from the chair that scraped harshly against the floor but the blazing anger in your eyes was directed solely to her as she stood up too. "You lost something?" You laughed bitterly as if the thought was absurd to you. "You got your dreams and the spotlight shining on you! You walked away perfect without a scratch and I was your collateral damage." You spat. "So fucking tell me what you lost?"

"I lost the person I was madly in love with, you idiot! The person i'm still in love with." Her eyes glassy as her voice trembles. You froze. "You think I didn't die a little bit inside every single day realising I couldn't tell you about my day anymore? I had let you go and I lost myself in return." Sophia whispered with tears flowing freely now. "It's fucking karma and I hate it because we were always on each other's sides." You froze not knowing what to say. She has confessed to still being in love with you.

"So it was her." You wince knowing who that voice belonged to. The shock in your chest turned into pure dread as you stared at your girlfriend who held your door key on one hand, a key you had made just for her and your AirPods on her other hand. Something you had asked her to hold on to as you were eating and forgotten to grab back when you dropped her off. "God, here i thought Sophia and you were probably just awkward meeting a new person in my life!"

"The girl from your past just so happens to be in the same group as me and both of you didn't even think that was worth me knowing?" She scoffed, betrayal etched on her face. You wanted to explain but nothing came out. "How could you? You could have told me today! Or maybe before i even confessed that I was in love with you!" Sophia's gaze snapped up looking at the both of you.

Manon was in love with you too? She confessed on the same day?

What were you supposed to say? That you love her but you loved Sophia too? That Sophia had just confessed and you hesitated to even shut it down? Or that Sophia wasn't supposed to mean anything anymore? That Sophia being in her girl group wasn’t supposed to mean anything anymore but it did?

You couldn't meet anyone's gaze. Your past and your present had just collided and unfortunately for you, you will be deciding on your future.

"You have to choose." Manon said breaking the tension and both you and Sophia's eyes snapped to her. "I can fight for you, I always have fought for you so l won't let this go easily but if you choose her, I won't fight for someone who's already gone so please, do not make me an idiot who just confessed to loving you, please tell me you're still mine and choose me." Manon gaze met yours, still holding onto the key and AirPods like it was the last time she would hold it.

Pieces of you that she was grabbing onto. Pieces of you that might just slip out in any second. "I don't deserve anything from you, I know that but did mean it when I said i never stopped loving you and if even a part of you is still mine, I will fight for that part so l am begging you. We were always on each other's side. You were always on my side. Pick it one last time and I'll change. I've changed." Sophia whispers gripping onto your counter. The closest she's been to you in ages and she wont let you walk away. Not when you were always on each other's sides and as much as she loves Manon like a sister, she won’t let her happiness slip away again. Not when she knows she can’t do it without you now.

For the first time in your life, you were hesitating. Hesitating on choosing Sophia's side and that shattered her because when have you ever hesitated in choosing her side? but this time was different. You were hesitating on everything. They were making you choose your future and right now? Everything that leads up to it will destroy everything. The choice wasn't just about love and whilst Sophia was the one to walk away back then, you realise now, you had to walk away from one of them and cause that heartbreak and resentment that Sophia had caused you.

Choose Sophia's side like you always have? Stay in the comfortable zone or Choose Manon's side and risk everything comfortable to you. The two people who knew you best but have different approaches. The girl from your past or the girl from your present? The storm or the sun?

Someone dig a hole and lay you in your grave because you were so fucked. Time was ticking.

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a/n: sooo another author note, I lowkey have no idea who might be endgame or if I should even make a part 2 but anyways yes! I'm super proud of this but I didn't proofread it so yikes apologies guys :)

[castielsonlyangel]

ᯓ★ˎˊ ‘fake dating’

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

content: fake dating, tension, nearlyyy kissing

pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

summary: fake dating dean for a case turns into an almost that causes awkward tension.

word count: 1.3k

You sighed as you put on your earrings, the last part of your outfit for the dinner party tonight.

You and the Winchesters were currently hunting a shapeshifter, and you had tracked it down to be at an expensive dinner party that night. So, logically, Sam suggested that you and Dean should pretend to be a couple. You both protested at first, but eventually gave in to the idea after realising it might actually be the only way they could get in.

You walked out of the bathroom, smoothing out the dress that clung onto you. It wasn’t something you’d wear any other day, but you couldn’t deny you looked good in it. Not that you’d be wearing it again, though.

“Right. You ready to go?” You asked Dean as you crossed your arms. You shook your head as you noticed how he looked tacken aback by your whole look. You never got dressed up, never really seeing the need for it nor having the time while hunting. “Have you never seen a girl in a dress before? Stop staring and come on.” You scoffed, stepping closer to him and slapping him on the arm playfully.

You heard a mumble of, “I’m not staring” before the sound of footsteps followed behind you.

Sam was already waiting in the Impala, double checking you guys have the stake and guns to kill the shapeshifter. He looked up as he heard the doors open, seeing his brother and friend get into the front of the car. “You guys can’t pretend to be a couple if you both look like you hate each other.” He teased, watching how you both looked tense.

You listened as Sam repeated the plan for the tenth time, scratching the back of your neck. “Just stay in love until you can track down the shifter and bring it out back.” He said finally. “We know, Sam. We’ll be fine.” Dean sighed as you adjusted your dress again. “Stupid thing keeps riding up.” You mumbled in annoyance.

You reluctantly looped your arm around Deans, allowing him to guide you up the steps to the big house while Sam headed around the back. “You better not be a dick tonight.” You warned him. “Remember I have a gun.” You waved your handbag in his face jokingly.

The house was bigger than anything the two of you had ever been in before. The doors golden accents shined beautifully in the moonlight. Inside, the chandeliers hung high and everything looked, sounded, and felt rich. You could see how Dean took in everything, just as you were. The two of you were in complete awe of the beautiful interior.

The little bubble of wonder was popped when a boy, who couldn’t have been more than 16, approached you with a tray of champagne. “Would- Would you like a glass?” He asked timidly. It was very obvious to you that the little boy looked anxious, afraid to mess up his simple task. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of relatability towards the kid. You smiled warmly and accepted the drink. “Thank you. You’re very sweet.” Dean took a glass of his own and nodded likewise.

You took a sip and your nose scrunched up at the taste. “God, i’ve never drank something so expensive before.” Dean laughed at your reaction, leading him to receive a glare.

“Dean, come on. I’m not dancing!” You denied as a slow song began to play. Dean gave you fake puppy eyes, bringing his hands together as if he was praying. “Pleaseeeee?” He begged, unable to keep the grin off of his face. You raised your eyebrows, silently saying ‘seriously?’ Dean straightened up and now looked at you seriously. “Look. Once we get this shapeshifter, we’ll be back on the road by morning. This is the one night we get to pretend to be normal.” You were surprised that Dean, Dean Winchester, wanted to live a normal life.

You felt sympathy for him, surprisingly. God, when did you ever feel sympathy for him? He was a dick, after all. With a shake of your head, you folded. “Fine. Just one song, though.” A smile graced his lips, a genuine smile. One you didn’t see often.

Deans right hand settled onto your waist, the other bringing yours up to his shoulder, and then to hold your free hand. He pulled you in closer, looking at you in the eyes. You saw a gentleness in them you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. The look was fond, even. Your shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving your body as you let yourself feel consumed by his gaze.

“You, uh.. You should dress up more often.” He gave you a once over, your cheeks heating up as you looked away. “Nope. Not gonna happen. I can barely move in this dress.” You dismissed his comment. He pulled you in a little closer, his grip tightening on your waist. He leaned in and spoke quietly into your ear. “You look good in it, even if it’s uncomfortable.”

You turned your head to look at him again, realising how close you now were, your nose almost touching his. Your breath hitched as you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips momentarily, feeling at a loss for words. You leaned in ever so slightly closer, practically able to taste the words that were on the tip of his tongue on your own lips.

You were both abruptly snapped out of the intimate moment as you felt your left side get drenched. You jumped slightly as you looked at the liquid that was now soaking your dress, and then up to the source it came from. It was the teenage boy from earlier that evening, looking extremely guilty and apologetic. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean- it was an accident-“

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry, kid. It’s alright. Just a dress.” You quickly assured him, helping him pick up the now empty champagne glasses that were on the floor, smiling softly to show it was okay. After he walked away, you turned back to Dean. His face was screwed up in an expression you couldn’t quite place. He looked confused— disappointed, even. You cleared your throat, feeling a bit confused yourself. “Let’s just go. I think I saw the shifter a while ago. Sam must be tired of waiting.” You tried to lighten the now awkward atmosphere, but all you got was a quick laugh from Dean who simply started to walk away, expecting you to follow.

You slammed the car door shut behind you as you got into the back seat of Baby. You and Dean had successfully lured the shifter outside, and Sam swiftly killed it with the stake. It had been considerably more quiet between the three of you afterwards, the only one who was talking was Sam. He knew better than to question either of you though, thanks to the both of you being extremely stubborn people who loved to bottle things up.

“Careful with my Baby.” Dean commented from the drivers seat, his voice devoid of any emotions. You put your seatbelt on silently, ignoring his comment. Your dress clung to you, the champagne feeling sticky against your side. You removed your heels and tossed them onto the seat beside you. Sam looked confused at the lack of teasing banter and jokes that usually flowed between the two of you. “What’s wrong with the both of you? You couldn’t shut up the whole way there and before you went in, and now you won’t even look at each other?”

“Nothings wrong. Just tired.” Dean said simply as he started the car, looking out the window as he continued to avoid the obvious tension. You hummed in agreement with the older brother, slumping against the window. “Walking in heels all night isn’t exactly comfortable, especially when you’re covered in champagne.” Sam knew better than to pry, so he shook his head and looked out the window himself.

You wondered what would’ve happened if you and Dean had kissed. You had never thought of him in that way before, did he think of you like that? Hunters don’t date. You both knew and agreed on that. It probably just meant nothing, just apart of the whole ‘fake dating’ look.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a/n: i loved writing this! the fake dating trope is always so perfect, i adore it. can you tell dean is my favourite person to write for??

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taglist: @ambiguous-avery , @deansweetheart , @mulderssweetheart , @butterphii , @butterphiiss

[alisonsfics]

overheard

pairing: bucky barnes x thunderbolts!reader

summary: alexei persuades the thunderbolts team that they need to throw a costume party at the tower. your costume has a certain effect on a certain super soldier, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. you go to talk to him after the party and find him masturbating to the thought of you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings:⚠️thunderbolts spoilers (barely)⚠️ smut, unprotected sex, masturbating (male, reader watches, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, size kink kinda, just pure filth, minors dni (18+ ONLY)

“C’mon, we are the Thunderbolts. Throwing fun party is perk of being superheroes.” Alexei said, trying to convince the group to host a costume party at Avengers Tower.

Alexei was standing up in front of all of you while you sat on the couch. “A costume party? Really?” Bucky asked, his disgust clear in his voice.

“Who knew the world famous Winter Soldier would be a party pooper?” Alexei said, frowning at Bucky.

Bucky glanced over at you for help. You were sitting right next to him as his arm rested behind you on the couch. “I’m with Bucky on this one.” You agreed.

There were a couple of scoffs from the group. “Oh, we’re really surprised.” John said, sarcastically.

“What the hell does that mean?” Bucky snapped, jumping to your defense.

John stared back at him. He knew there was no way Bucky was actually oblivious enough to not see the fact that you both liked each other. “Calm down, Buck. Nobody’s trying to take your girl. I’m just saying you two are practically inseparable.” He elaborated.

Bucky shifted in his seat. He hated when the others tried to analyze his relationship with you. “I vote in favor of your party. These two need to loosen up and have some fun.” Yelena said, pointing at you and Bucky.

“I agree.” John and Ava both echoed.

Alexei’s hands shot up in the air in victory. “A party set for heroes.” He cheered.

Bucky huffed and stormed away to his room.

“Nice going, Walker.” You said, flicking him in the forehead. Of course John was right about all of it. You and Bucky had been best friends since Steve introduced the two of you back in the day. And sure, you liked him, you liked him a lot.

But it was way too complicated.

You were in such a good spot with Bucky recently, and you felt so comfortable with him that you didn’t want to mess that up.

“C’mon, he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Yelena defended John.

“Are you really going to try to tell us that you have absolutely no romantic feelings for Bucky?” Ava added.

You were stuck. You couldn’t say anything, but you knew they were right. They knew they were right too. They didn’t need you to confirm it to know that the way you and Bucky looked at each other was nothing short of lovestruck.

“Maybe you all should stay out of my relationship with Bucky because it’s none of your business.” You snapped, walking off in a hurry.

You got to Bucky’s bedroom door and knocked softly. “Come in,” he called from the other side of the door. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

Bucky was sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands. “Hi, doll,” he said, when he finally looked up to see it was you.

The smile he gave you went straight to your gut and made your stomach do flips. You sat beside him. He kept his eyes trained on the floor instead of looking at you.

You grabbed his hand and held it in your lap. It was like there was an electric current pulsing between his hand and yours. He slowly interlaced your fingers. “Don’t let John get to you.” You whispered.

Bucky leaned his head over on your shoulder. He may have been six feet tall and made of pure muscle, but he was practically butter in your hands. You were Bucky’s one weak spot.

You used your free hand to run your fingers through his hair. He almost moaned as your nails scratched against his scalp.

He knew he wanted more from his relationship with you, but he couldn’t risk what you had.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, needing to be closer to you.

He scooped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, so you were straddling him. You giggled to yourself at how clingy he was being.

“What’s so funny?” He asked you. You shook your head, dismissing it. “If John could see you right now. He’d tell you that you were full of shit out there.” You joked, looking down at him as you rested your hands on his shoulders.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about him right now.” He said, nestling his face into your neck. His arms stayed wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

You both stayed like that for a while, you weren’t sure how long it had been.

You were Bucky's peace. He treasured any moment he got to be that close to you.

“So what do you think about this costume party tonight?” You asked him, softly scratching up and down his back. He shuddered under your touch. “I don’t really think I have a choice.” He mumbled against your skin.

You got up off his lap. “Maybe it’ll be fun,” You suggested, trying to cheer Bucky up.

He missed your warmth the second you left. You went back to your room to find a costume, and he collapsed back onto his bed.

He wondered how he’d survive being around you any longer without telling you how he felt.

On your way back to your room, you passed the living room and saw the rest of the team still hanging out.

You caught Yelena’s eye and waved her over to you. She snuck away from the group, and they carried on with their conversation.

You grabbed her forearm and tugged her behind you. “Am I going to help you pick out a costume to impress Bucky tonight?” She asked as you dragged her across the compound.

As soon as your cheeks turned pink, Yelena knew she was right.

A couple hours later, you were standing in the room admiring the costume you and Yelena had picked out. She’d suggested you dress as a dark angel. You bought a black lace corset top and ruffled short black skirt. Then, Yelena found an old pair of black wings and a black choker for you to wear.

As you stared in the mirror, you started to rethink the whole idea.

It was a great costume. Even you knew you looked hot. But you didn’t know if it was too much. Like what if Bucky thought you were trying too hard.

You headed downstairs to the party before you could change your mind.

Bucky was standing against a wall talking to Sam, when he saw you. He felt the words stolen from his lips as you left him speechless. Sam followed his gaze and saw you walking down the stairs. Bucky couldn’t remember what he and Sam were talking about. All he could focus on was the way your corset was hugging your form.

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Sam teased, patting Bucky on the back.

You skillfully weaved your way through the crowd towards Bucky.

“Uh hi, doll,” his breath got caught in his throat.

His gaze rolled down your body. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and kiss every inch of your skin.

“You look…wow, I mean” Bucky was completely losing his ability to talk around you.

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, doing a twirl for him. He was wrapped around your finger and ready to worship the ground you walked on.

“How about I go get you a drink?” He suggested. His brain had gone fuzzy, and he needed to get away from you before he made a fool of himself. You nodded and thanked him, making sure to look up at him through your eyelashes.

Bucky didn’t know what had gotten into him tonight.

“You’re here? I was starting to think you’d bailed.” Someone exclaimed beside you.

You turned to see John walking towards you, dressed in a very bad pirate costume. The only part that was good was his eyeliner, which you assumed Yelena helped with.

John stuttered as he finally got a good look at your outfit. “You look really pretty.” He mumbled. Even if he hadn’t been slurring his words, you’d know he was drunk because he was complimenting you. He never did that sober.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing your hand and tugging you behind him.

He pulled you over to a bench a few feet away and sat down. “What’re you doing?” You hesitated. He frowned up at you and patted the seat beside him.

He leaned in closer to you, brushing his lips against your ear. “You want to make Bucky jealous or what? You gotta play along.” He whispered.

You jumped as he rested his hand on your knee. “John, this’ll never work.” You protested. He shook his head. “He’s been drooling over from the bar over there. It’ll work.” He argued.

You saw Bucky heading back towards you. “Fuck it,” you mumbled.

You pretended to giggle at something John said, and slowly brushed your fingers through his hair. He leaned in closer to you, letting his hand sneak up your thigh.

“Oh, Bucky!” John pretended to finally notice him standing next to you both.

“Walker,” Bucky greeted bluntly.

“Doesn’t she look amazing tonight? I mean, oh my god.” John said.

Bucky’s grip on the two glasses tightened. He clenched his jaw as he looked at where John’s hand was placed on your thigh. “Yeah, she really does. Do you mind?” He snapped, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh yeah yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” John lied as he rejoined the crowd.

“Here you go, doll.” Bucky said, handing you your drink and taking John’s place on the bench.

“Thank you,” you said, softly. You let your hand wrap around his forearm and rested your head on his shoulder. He melted into your touch.

“Walker's such an asshole.” Bucky grumbled to himself.

You bit your tongue to stop from laughing. “Oh really? For what exactly?” You asked. Bucky sat in silence, slowly realizing John hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you, doll?” He complained. You sat up straight and saw how tense he looked. You interlocked your fingers with his. “Why can’t you just tell me the real reason you’re mad at him?” You asked.

Bucky blinked at you with a blank stare. “Wh-what do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re just jealous. It’s okay to admit it.” You tried to encourage him.

He started to distance himself. He couldn’t admit his feelings to you. But he didn’t know a way out of this conversation. He pulled his hand away from you and stormed off.

Bucky sulked in the corner for the rest of the party. You made a point to spend more time with John that you normally would have. Every time you caught Bucky’s eye, he pretended he hadn’t been staring.

Eventually, he stormed away to his room when he couldn’t take anymore.

After the party ended, the only thing you could think about was talking to Bucky.

You and Bucky never fought, and you hated the thought of him being mad at you. You knew flirting with John was petty, but you were really just desperate for Bucky to make a move already. You’d liked him for so long.

You walked down the quiet corridor towards Bucky's room. You didn’t know what you’d say. You didn’t even know if he was still awake.

You walked up to his door and saw that it was cracked open about an inch. Looking through the crack, you saw Bucky lying on his bed. You nearly choked when you noticed he was, in fact, not sleeping.

He was lying on his bed, with his legs dangling over the edge. His hand was shoved down the front of his pants, softly tugging on his cock. You could hear low moans coming from him as his hand started to move faster.

You tried to quietly back away but then you heard your name.

You panicked. Had he spotted you?

You looked back at him and saw his eyes were still closed. Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t calling your name, he was moaning it.

What were you supposed to do?

It was wrong to just watch, but your feet stayed planted. You tried furiously to get your legs to move, but couldn’t. If Bucky caught you, it would end your friendship.

Then, your name again, followed his a long string of swearing.

“Fuck, doll. You look so fucking good. Oh my god, your tits in this dress? Can’t think straight around you. All I can think about is fucking your tight little cunt while you wear this outfit. Oh, so fucking tight for me.” He moaned.

Heat was radiating off your skin. A warmth pooling in between your thighs. The dirty words fed into your confidence.

You tiptoed into the room, quietly shutting the door behind you. Bucky was so distracted that he didn’t even hear you.

You grabbed his wrist, causing his eyes to shoot open. “Doll? Oh fuck!” He exclaimed. Bucky's heart had never beaten this fast. He panicked, trying to think of an excuse.

“You want to cum, baby?” You asked, running your fingers across his thighs.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered the word. He couldn’t actually process what was happening.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I can see how much need it.” You told him, kneeling in front of him.

If it was possible, Bucky’s eyes got even wider. He bunched up the sheets in his hands, bracing for whatever came next. You slid his pants and boxers down his legs and threw them to the side.

You licked a stripe along the underside of his cock. “That feel good?” You asked him, pretending you didn’t already know the answer.

He furiously nodded his head. “Gotta use your words,” you teased, pressing kisses against his inner thigh.

“Yes, oh fuck, doll. You feel like heaven. Please just make me cum.” He begged you. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. His hand flew to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

His salty precum coated your mouth. You took more of him into your mouth, until his cock brushed up against the back of your throat. Bucky glanced down at you taking all of him. Your eyes started to water, smudging your mascara.

“Taking me so well, good girl,” he praised. He held you still while he shoved himself further into your throat. His whole body shuddered and your name fell from his lips.

You used to your free hands to massage his balls, while he continued ramming his hips against you. “Letting me fuck your sweet little mouth. I’m not gonna last long.” He moaned, as his hips stuttered.

His thrusts sped up, and you felt him twitch in your mouth. His eyes started to flutter shut. You felt cocky watching the effect you had on him.

You pulled your mouth off of him with a popping sound, and wrapped your hand around his length. His hips bucked up against your hand.

All he needed was a little encouragement.

“C’mon, baby. I know you can do it. Let go for me. You wanna cum all over my tits? I heard you talking about them.” You coached him.

A choked groan left his lips as his hips bucked up and he shot warm ropes onto your chest. Bucky struggled to catch his breath. He collapsed back on the bed, sweating and panting.

He looked down at your doe eyes and swollen lips. “You look so fucking sexy right now.” He said, reaching out to smooth out your hair. His hands snaked down to your waist, picking you up and plopping you down on his thigh.

You squealed feeling the contact of his thigh against the wet patch growing in your panties. He started to smirk. “You that desperate for me that even my thigh can make you feel good?” He whispered against your lips.

He pushed his thigh up against you again. This time, a low moan escaped your lips. He softly kissed your shoulders. “Guess I should repay for you for letting me cover these sweet tits. You look so beautiful like this.” He praised.

You rolled your hips against his thigh. “I need to cum, Buck. Please,” you begged him. Goosebumps ran up and down his body as he heard the neediness in your voice.

He didn’t even waste the time to remove your panties. His metal digits slipped under your skirt, caressing your thigh.

He brushed his thumb against the wet patch that was growing in your panties. You moaned his name, sinking your nails into his shoulders. “You’re soaked, doll.” Bucky groaned.

His fingers snuck into your panties. His cold fingers were a stark contrast to the burning between your legs. He ran a finger through your folds. You felt your hips squirm against his hand.

The room felt like it was spinning. All you could focus was Bucky luring you closer and closer to your high. He was only using one finger, and you already felt that familiar feeling building in your stomach.

You harshly pushed your hips against his hand. “You hungry for more? You gonna take everything I give you?” He asked. You furiously nodded your head as you bit down on your lip. “I’ll take it so well, I promise. I can handle it.” You moaned.

He added another finger. You rested your forehead against his shoulder. You continued rolling your hips against him, seeing how it affected him. You could feel his erection pressing up against your knee. “God, doll. I’m gonna cum just watching you hump my hand like this.” He moaned.

You jumped when you felt his thumb start rubbing tight circles on your clit. They started slow but sped up. “Bucky, Bucky, oh my god…I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You yelled as your orgasm hit you.

He clasped his other hand over your mouth, trying to keep you quiet. His fingers slowed down helping you come down from your high. “Such a good job, doll.” He said, kissing your temple.

He pulled his hand out from under your skirt. His fingers were dripping with your arousal. “You made such a mess, doll. You gonna clean this up for me?” He asked, moving his other hand away from your mouth.

You looked into his blue eyes as he slid his fingers into your mouth. You closed your lips around them, tasting yourself on him was like a drug.

He pulled his fingers away from you and pressed a kiss against your lips. He nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to whine.

“Please, Bucky?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Can you take another one, doll?” He asked, pulling out of the kiss.

You nodded your head. “Please. I can take it.” You pleaded.

He picked you up with ease and laid you down on the bed. You tried to undo the laces of your corset, but Bucky grabbed your hands and stopped you.

“This dress got me all worked up. I’m gonna fuck you while you wear it.” He growled, bunching your dress up around your hips. You nodded in agreement as he ripped his own shirt off over his head.

“You ready, doll?” He asked you, protectively. You quickly mumbled a “yes”.

He grabbed your hips and pushed his length into you. Your eyes rolled back. You grasped for the sheets or anything you could get your hands on.

He felt so much bigger than you imagined he would. “Can’t take anymore. It won’t fit.” You mumbled. It felt like he was splitting you open. He slowly pushed the rest of his cock into you until he bottomed out. “Look at you taking all of me. You fit me so well.” He said.

Your eyes opened and immediately went to where his cock was buried in your pussy.

You missed the warmth when he pulled himself out, but it wasn’t long until he pushed his cock back through your folds. His thrusts were deep, reaching deeper inside you each time.

You clung to his shoulders. His hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead as your bodies moved together. He fucked you into the mattress. The headboard thudded against the wall with each thrust.

His grunts only turned you on more. You wrapped your legs around his waist. The new angle only encouraged Bucky to go faster. He tightened his grip on your hips, slightly stinging the skin.

This was one of those moments where you were reminded of the super soldier serum coursing through Bucky’s veins.

He rammed into you faster and faster. “Fuck, doll. Your pretty little pussy is takin’ me so well.” He moaned.

His cock hit your g-spot. “Right there, Bucky,” you begged.

“Cum with me. Gonna look so pretty,” he mumbled. His cock brushed against your clit, making you felt dizzy. His metal fingers found your clit again, drawing figure eights.

You tried to tell him, but you were too busy panting. “I know, I’m close too.” He said, reading your mind. He sealed your lips with a kiss to muffle your moans.

You bucked your hips up against him. He swore against your lips.

Then, he pumped you full. You raked your nails down his back as you felt your orgasm rip through you.

He swore under his breath. He slowly peppered kisses across your face and then down your neck, while he slowed down his thrusts.

He collapsed next to you on the bed. “And my goal for the night was just to get you to kiss me.” You said, giggling as you looked over at Bucky. He was practically glowing.

“You should’ve known showing up in this outfit.” He said, running his fingers down the tight corset. You curled into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Do you think the others will figure it out tomorrow when I can’t walk at training?” You asked him.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah probably, if they didn’t hear you already.” He teased you. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, despite your previous activities.

“Not that I’m complaining, of course. I fucking love hearing you like that.” He whispered in your ear.

“We should probably shower and get cleaned up, so maybe you have another chance.” you winked over at him. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he picked you up and practically ran into the bathroom.

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[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write something about Charles Little daughter being the flower girl at Charlotte's and Lorenzo's wedding (happy for the newly weds). Just something cute.

Wedding

The air in the countryside estate shimmered with the golden touch of the afternoon sun, casting gentle rays over the white and blush roses wrapped around the wedding arch. Rows of white chairs were lined up on either side of a silk-lined aisle, soft string music filling the air as guests whispered, their eyes darting toward the grand French doors of the house where the bridal party would soon emerge.

Charles adjusted the tiny bow sitting delicately on his daughter’s curls. "You ready, ma chérie?"

"Mhm," Yn replied with a serious nod, clutching her small basket of petals like it was the most important mission in the world. Her pale white dress, carefully chosen by Charlotte, fluttered gently with the breeze. "Uncle Lolo said to walk slow and sprinkle nice. Like this!" She demonstrated with an exaggerated swirl of her hand, petals floating to the gravel beneath their feet.

Charles laughed softly, smoothing down the puff of tulle on her skirt. "Perfect. You’re going to be the best flower girl ever."

Behind them, Arthur was already snapping pictures, kneeling to get the perfect angle of Yn's proud, glowing face. "She looks like a little princess," he said, adjusting his lens. "Charlotte is going to cry."

"I might cry," Charles joked, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. Yn giggled, beaming up at him.

From the house, a call rang out. "We're starting in five!"

Pascale made her way over, elegant in a navy blue dress, her hair swept back in soft curls. She crouched down to kiss Yn's cheek. "Go show them how it’s done, mon ange. And smile for Uncle Lolo, okay?"

"Okay, Grandma!" Yn chirped, bouncing slightly on her heels.

As the music shifted, the guests turned their heads, murmuring in appreciation. Lorenzo stood tall at the end of the aisle, hands clasped in front of him, a nervous but excited smile on his face. When the first bridesmaid began her walk, Charles leaned down.

"That’s your cue. Go ahead. Slow and graceful, just like we practiced."

Yn took a deep breath. Then she stepped forward, one tiny foot in her white ballet flats after the other, petals falling with each measured step. Her face was serious with concentration, eyes flicking to where Lorenzo waited, then to the guests, then back to her basket.

"Awwww," rippled through the audience.

Charlotte's sister, standing off to the side with her own bouquet, wiped a tear away. Arthur took rapid shots, whispering, "Too cute. This is going on my wall."

Lorenzo's eyes softened. As Yn reached him, she held up the empty basket proudly.

"You did amazing, sweetheart," he whispered, crouching down to kiss her cheek.

Yn giggled, covering her face with her free hand before scampering off down the side aisle, where Pascale opened her arms. She climbed into her grandmother's lap and wiggled happily, showing her empty basket to Charles, who sat next to them.

"Did you see me, Papa? I didn’t drop it all at once!"

"I saw," Charles said, giving her a proud kiss on the head. "You were perfect. Charlotte and Uncle Lolo are going to talk about it forever."

As the music swelled again, every head turned toward the bride. Charlotte stepped out, radiant in a shoulder-free gown, her golden hair twisted elegantly, soft makeup catching the light. Lorenzo's breath visibly hitched, and even Yn paused her chatter to gasp.

"She looks like a princess!" Yn whispered.

Pascale laughed softly, hugging her. "She does, doesn’t she?"

Yn leaned into her grandma's shoulder, mesmerised. "I want to be that pretty when I get married."

Charles smirked. "Not until you're fifty."

The ceremony began, and Yn stayed incredibly well-behaved, whispering only occasionally to Charles or climbing gently into Arthur's lap for a better view. Arthur didn’t mind one bit, holding her steady as she twisted to watch Charlotte and Lorenzo exchange vows.

"Why is Uncle Lolo crying?" she asked.

"Because he loves her," Charles answered softly. "And sometimes love makes you feel so full, it comes out your eyes."

Yn nodded sagely. "I think I love Auntie Lottie too."

"We all do, sweetheart."

The vows were beautiful. Lorenzo spoke of the quiet mornings they spent in their kitchen, the way Charlotte always read the last page of a book before starting, the way she made him feel at home even on his worst days. Charlotte talked about the patience Lorenzo had, his devotion to his family, the way he looked at her like she was the center of the world.

When they kissed, everyone stood to clap, and Yn squealed, clapping wildly along with them. "Yayyyyy!"

After the ceremony, guests mingled under the soft shade of white tents, sipping champagne and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. Yn became the darling of the afternoon, rotating from arm to arm like a tiny guest of honor.

She twirled with Charlotte’s sister on the dance floor, hugged Arthur as he showed her the pictures he’d taken of her, and giggled when Pascale shared a biscuit from the dessert table.

Eventually, Charlotte made her way to them, her veil gently taken off, her smile bright and relaxed.

"There’s my favorite flower girl," she cooed, crouching down in her dress.

Yn reached out, carefully touching the lace skirt. "You’re soooo pretty. Like a fairy."

"Oh, mon ange," Charlotte laughed, tears returning to her eyes. "You’re the sweetest. Come here."

Yn wrapped her arms around her new aunt, snuggling into the layers of silk. Charles came over just as the two hugged.

"She’s already planning her own wedding," he teased.

Charlotte grinned. "Don’t let her pick me as her flower girl. I’d never do it as well as she did."

Yn blinked up at them. "You could do it, Aunt Lottie. But you'd have to wear pink."

Lorenzo appeared beside them, arm sliding around Charlotte's waist. He crouched next to Yn again. "You were so amazing today, sweetheart. Can I keep a picture of you in my wallet forever?"

"Only if you give me one of you and Aunt Lottie too," she said solemnly.

He chuckled. "Deal."

Later, during dinner, Yn sat on Charles’ lap, carefully eating her pasta with the same concentration she'd given the flower petals earlier. Occasionally, she'd glance at the sweetheart table where Charlotte and Lorenzo sat, heads close, hands entwined.

"Papa," she said softly, tugging on his collar.

"Oui, baby?"

"Will Uncle Lolo and Aunt Lottie be together forever?"

Charles kissed her temple. "I think so, mon amour. They love each other very much."

"Okay," she whispered, satisfied. "Then I want to come to their house every day."

He laughed, holding her closer. "They’ll never say no to you."

As the night carried on, the sky fading to dusky rose and then indigo, fairy lights twinkled across the estate. The first dance drew cheers, and though Yn began to fade, yawning into Charlotte's sister's shoulder, she perked up long enough to slow dance with Charles when he swayed with her on the side of the dance floor.

"Best wedding ever," she murmured sleepily.

"I think so too, sweet girl," he whispered, resting his cheek against her curls.

By the time the cake was cut and the music turned livelier, Yn had fallen asleep on Pascale’s lap, her bow a little askew.

Charlotte came over, kissing her forehead. "Thank you for being our little fairy today."

Charles smiled, brushing a curl from Yn's face. "She’ll dream of this for weeks."

"I will too," Charlotte whispered.

The stars blinked above them, and the laughter of friends and family drifted into the night.

Love had been celebrated in the most magical way—with a little girl in white tulle at the heart of it all.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you! I know I'm a bit late, but better now than never.

-♡○♡

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[astroellies]

˚༄࿔ jackson ellie and you being so so in love with each other…

warnings! GAY GAY GAY! mentions of smut.

⭐︎ going on patrols together and she’s just smiling like the biggest dork because you’re pointing out how that smell of spring is finally coming back but she’s just watching the tip of your nose move the tiniest bit when you talk.

⭐︎ bathing or showering after patrols and you’re massaging the shampoo into her scalp and she’s about to fall asleep because oh my god what the fuck it feels so good.

⭐︎ ellie being a bit reserved with pda or defining your relationship in public (like how we see her uncertainty with cat in her journal!) and being over the moon when you refer to her as her girlfriend. like maybe you two are at the tipsy bison and you’re talking with some newcomers…

“mhm! my girlfriend, ellie, has been reading me the comics, she’s collected tons of them!”

⭐︎ the two of you sneaking out of jackson with dina and jesse to go swimming in a nearby like and they won’t stop teasing the two of you.

“oh my god you two are so gay.” dina would say with mock disgust. and you can’t even deny it because you are so gay, especially when ellie takes her shirt off and only wearing a sports bra underneath.

⭐︎ waking up next to her in her garage in the colder months and just snuggling up to her for warmth. she tries to rub her icicle feet on your legs until you threaten to get up and go home. this would only make her hold you tighter and grumble something like nooo don’t leave in a raspy, half-awake voice.

⭐︎ pulling ellie to the dance floor at events and her getting all flushed and smiley. staring into her eyes or at her lips because you know it makes her flush harder.

⭐︎ ellie loving the idea of being rebellious and sneaking you in or out of her garage went joel isn’t looking (even if he knows about your relationship). she’d be so silly about it.

whisper yelling, “go now he’s not looking!”

“oh my god ellie you’re such a nerd!” you’d reply at full volume, leaving through the front door.

⭐︎ throwing ellie a suprise party for her birthday at the tipsy bison. it turning out to be extremely challenging because she was insisting that she would rather just stay in for her birthday but you had gotten all of her friends to hideout in the bar for half an hour at this point.

⭐︎ ellie genuinely being surprised when the lights flicker on and everyone she knows is yelling “happy birthday!” and her standing in shock, realizing why you were so persistent about going out tonight.

⭐︎ walking in on ellie (attempting to) cut her own hair and she’s royally fucked it up and now it’s your job to fix it. her grumpy pout in the mirror as you lecture her about just waiting for you to come home so you could cut it.

⭐︎ getting walked in on (maybe multiple times). once in ellie’s garage when neither of you heard joel’s knocks so he invites himself in and ellie had to panickingly throw the blankets over you two. then another time on patrol when dina and jesse came back from scoping out some supplies and they found you on a couch. and then maybe again when maria went looking for you two after a dance and you were tucked in an alleyway.

⭐︎ hanging out at a lake just outside of jackson and ellie’s sketching you.

“why’re you staring at me?” you’d giggle.

“cause you’re so pretty.” she’d reply, just her eyes peaking out from over her journal.

“lemme see what you’re drawing.” you’d say as your sit up.

“no!” she laugh, pulling the notebook away from your grasp.

“ellieuhhh, you’re so lame.”

[archivegyu]

masterlist

The Art of Being a Girl Dad

dad! seungcheol x reader ll 5k words

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Choi family’s living room, casting dancing shadows across the hardwood floor where an unlikely wrestling match was taking place. Kkuma, Seungcheol’s beloved white coton de tulear, had somehow found herself pinned beneath a giggling five-year-old who was attempting to braid the poor dog’s fluffy ears.

“Kkuma-ya, stay still! You’re going to be the prettiest princess dog in all of Seoul!” Naeun declared with the kind of unwavering confidence that only children possessed. Her small fingers fumbled with tiny pink hair ties as Kkuma’s tail wagged frantically, clearly torn between escape and enjoying the attention.

Seungcheol paused in the kitchen doorway, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, watching his daughter’s latest creative endeavor with barely contained laughter. His hair was still messy from sleep, sticking up at odd angles that somehow made him look younger than his years. The sight of his two favorite girls bonding over questionable grooming choices filled his chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee.

“Naeunie,” he called softly, padding over in his slippers. “What are you doing to poor Kkuma?”

“Appa!” Naeun looked up with bright eyes that were carbon copies of his own. “I’m making her beautiful for the tea party! Mama said you have to come too because Uncle Gyu is bringing cake!”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shot up. “Uncle Mingyu is coming? When did this happen?”

“This morning! Mama was on the phone and she was laughing really loud and then she said yes to cake!” Naeun had returned to her mission of transforming Kkuma into what appeared to be a four-legged fairy tale character. “She said you were grumpy about getting up early but Uncle Gyu said he’d bring the really good cake from that place with the fancy name you can’t say right.”

“Patisserie Laurent,” Seungcheol muttered, already knowing exactly which place Mingyu meant. Trust his member to remember his weakness for their mille-feuille. “And I wasn’t grumpy, I was tired. There’s a difference.”

“You made that face,” Naeun said matter-of-factly, scrunching up her features in an exaggerated frown that was disturbingly accurate. “The one where your eyebrows touch and Mama laughs.”

Before Seungcheol could defend his morning expressions, the sound of his wife’s laughter drifted from the kitchen, followed by what sounded suspiciously like multiple voices on speakerphone. He recognized the chaos immediately – Seventeen’s group chat had gone live.

“Is that the whole circus?” he asked, settling down on the floor beside Naeun and gently rescuing Kkuma from her latest hair accessory.

“Jeonghan is being mean to Seokmin again,” his wife called from the kitchen, amusement clear in her voice. “Something about stealing his face mask.”

“It was a limited edition!” came Seokmin’s distant, indignant voice through the phone speaker.

Seungcheol shook his head, simultaneously exasperated and fond. Five years of marriage and fatherhood had done nothing to mature his bandmates. If anything, having Naeun around had made them more chaotic, each trying to claim the title of ‘favorite uncle’ through increasingly ridiculous means.

“Appa, can we call Uncle Hannie too? I want to show him Kkuma’s new look,” Naeun said, having successfully managed to get one small bow attached to the dog’s ear. Kkuma looked resigned to her fate.

“Let’s wait until after your tea party, okay? Uncle Mingyu will be here soon and you know how he gets when he’s not the center of attention.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the doorbell rang with the specific pattern that could only belong to Kim Mingyu – unnecessarily long and dramatic. Naeun shrieked with excitement and abandoned Kkuma entirely, racing toward the front door with the kind of speed that made Seungcheol wonder if she had inherited more than just his eyes.

“Uncle Gyu! Uncle Gyu!” Naeun’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Seungcheol followed at a more reasonable pace, already smiling at what he knew he’d find. Sure enough, Mingyu was crouched at Naeun’s level, having somehow produced not just the promised cake box but also a small bouquet of daisies and what appeared to be a toy crown.

“Princess Naeun!” Mingyu announced dramatically, placing the crown on her head with ceremonial precision. “Your royal tea party awaits!”

“Did you really bring a crown?” Seungcheol asked, accepting the familiar one-armed hug that Mingyu offered while juggling his various gifts.

“Hyung, I don’t do anything halfway. You know this.” Mingyu’s grin was shameless. “Plus, I may have had help from a certain someone who shall remain nameless but definitely knows a lot about princess accessories.”

“Uncle Wonwoo helped!” Naeun announced, completely ruining Mingyu’s attempt at mystery. “He said princesses need proper headwear for important occasions!”

Seungcheol’s wife appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel and shaking her head with fond exasperation. “Wonwoo called ahead to make sure Mingyu brought age-appropriate entertainment. Apparently, last time’s magic tricks were ‘too easy for the target demographic.’”

“They were great magic tricks,” Mingyu protested. “It’s not my fault Naeun figured out where I was hiding the cards.”

“You left them on the kitchen counter in plain sight,” Seungcheol pointed out.

“Details,” Mingyu waved him off, then turned his attention back to Naeun. “So, Princess, what’s on the agenda for today’s royal gathering?”

What followed was an elaborate explanation of the tea party requirements, including but not limited to: proper seating arrangements for all attendees (including Kkuma, who was apparently the royal pet), specific tea flavors (apple juice was acceptable as a substitute), and a very serious discussion about cake cutting protocol.

Seungcheol watched his daughter command the attention of a grown man who regularly performed in front of thousands, completely unaware of how naturally she held court. There was something magical about the way children could make adults remember how to play, how to find joy in the smallest things.

“She’s got your leadership skills,” his wife murmured, settling beside him on the couch as Mingyu and Naeun began arranging the living room for optimal tea party conditions.

“And your ability to wrap people around her finger,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The actual tea party was a masterpiece of organized chaos. Naeun had assigned seats with the precision of a military strategist: herself at the head of the coffee table (which had been draped with her favorite blanket to serve as a proper tablecloth), Mingyu to her right as the guest of honor, her parents flanking the other sides, and Kkuma positioned on a small cushion with her own tiny tea cup.

“Now,” Naeun began, having insisted on wearing her fanciest dress for the occasion, “everyone has to hold their cups like this.” She demonstrated with her small hands positioned just so on her plastic teacup, pinky extended in what she clearly believed was the height of sophistication.

Mingyu, without a trace of self-consciousness, mirrored her posture exactly, even going so far as to straighten his imaginary tie. “Like this, Princess?”

“Perfect! Appa, your pinky isn’t high enough.”

Seungcheol adjusted his grip on his mug with exaggerated precision, earning an approving nod from his daughter. His wife was barely containing her laughter behind her own cup.

“Okay, now we have to toast,” Naeun continued. “Mama taught me. We say something nice and then we clink.”

“What should we toast to?” Mingyu asked seriously.

Naeun considered this with the gravity of a diplomat. “To… to Kkuma being the prettiest princess dog, and to Uncle Gyu bringing the best cake, and to Mama’s apple juice that tastes like tea, and to Appa for making funny faces when he drinks it.”

“I don’t make funny faces,” Seungcheol protested weakly.

“You do,” his wife and Mingyu said in unison, causing Naeun to dissolve into giggles.

They clinked their mismatched cups together, and Seungcheol felt that familiar tightness in his chest that came with these perfect, ordinary moments. This was what he’d been missing all those years on the road – not just the big milestones, but the silly Tuesday morning tea parties and the sound of his daughter’s laughter mixing with his wife’s.

The cake, as promised, was exceptional. Mingyu had somehow convinced the patisserie to create a miniature version of their famous mille-feuille decorated with edible flowers. Naeun insisted on cutting it herself, resulting in uneven slices that she distributed with the solemnity of a judge.

“Uncle Gyu gets the biggest piece because he brought it,” she announced, “but Appa gets the piece with the most flowers because he’s the best appa in the world.”

Seungcheol felt his throat tighten unexpectedly. “Thank you, baby.”

“And Mama gets the prettiest piece because she’s the prettiest mama.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, jumping from topic to topic the way it did when Naeun was involved. She told Mingyu about her new favorite book (something involving a dragon who was afraid of its own fire), demonstrated her latest dance moves (a combination of ballet and what appeared to be taekwondo), and explained in great detail why purple was clearly superior to all other colors.

Mingyu listened to every word with the kind of attention usually reserved for important business meetings, asking follow-up questions and offering commentary that made Naeun beam with importance. Watching them together, Seungcheol was reminded of why he’d fallen in love with this chaotic group of men in the first place – their capacity for genuine care, for making others feel seen and valued.

“Uncle Gyu,” Naeun said suddenly, having finished her cake, “are you sad that you don’t have a little girl like me?”

The question caught everyone off guard. Mingyu’s expression softened, and he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind Naeun’s ear. “You know what? I’m not sad, because I get to be your uncle. That means I get all the fun parts – tea parties and cake and hearing about dragons – but I also get to spoil you and then send you home to your appa and mama when you’re too full of sugar.”

“That’s sneaky,” Naeun observed approvingly.

“I learned from the best,” Mingyu glanced at Seungcheol with a grin. “Your appa taught me everything I know about being sneaky.”

“I did not—” Seungcheol started to protest, then caught his wife’s knowing look and decided discretion was the better part of valor. “Okay, maybe I taught him a few things.”

The doorbell rang again, interrupting what was surely going to be an embarrassing trip down memory lane. This time, the pattern was shorter but repeated three times – definitely Jeonghan.

“Did you invite more people to my tea party?” Naeun asked, not sounding particularly upset about the prospect of additional guests.

“That would be Uncle Hannie,” Seungcheol’s wife said, already moving toward the door. “He said he had something for Naeun.”

“Something” turned out to be Seokmin, Joshua, and Wonwoo, along with what appeared to be half of a craft store. Jeonghan waltzed in like he owned the place, carrying a bag full of supplies, while the others followed with varying degrees of sheepishness.

“We heard there was a princess in need of proper royal crafts,” Jeonghan announced, dumping his bag on the coffee table with a flourish. “And Seokmin insisted on bringing his guitar.”

“For royal entertainment,” Seokmin added quickly, holding up his acoustic guitar case. “Princesses need proper serenades.”

“I just came to make sure nobody burned down the apartment,” Wonwoo said mildly, though he was already pulling something from his jacket pocket. “Also, I brought more appropriate magic tricks.”

Joshua, ever the gentleman, presented Naeun with a small wrapped box. “I thought you might like these for your next tea party,” he said in his careful, accented Korean.

Inside were a set of actual porcelain tea cups, child-sized but clearly real, painted with delicate flowers. Naeun’s eyes went wide with wonder as she lifted one carefully from its tissue paper nest.

“They’re real grown-up cups,” she whispered, as if speaking too loudly might make them disappear.

“Very real,” Joshua confirmed. “My mom helped me pick them out. She said every princess needs proper tea service.”

“Uncle Shua, they’re the most beautiful cups in the whole world,” Naeun declared, and Joshua’s smile could have powered the entire building.

What had started as a simple tea party was rapidly evolving into something resembling a small festival. Jeonghan had begun spreading out craft supplies with the efficiency of someone who’d clearly planned this in advance, while Seokmin tuned his guitar and Wonwoo shuffled what appeared to be a deck of actual magic cards (as opposed to his previous amateur hour attempts).

“Hyung,” Mingyu leaned over to whisper to Seungcheol, “I think we’ve been upstaged.”

“I think our daughter has an entire entertainment company at her disposal,” Seungcheol replied, watching Naeun flit between uncles like a butterfly sampling flowers.

His wife settled back beside him, shaking her head with amazement. “Remember when we used to worry about her not having enough socialization?”

“I remember when we worried about a lot of things,” Seungcheol said quietly. The early days of fatherhood had been terrifying in ways that performing on stage never was. Every cry, every fever, every milestone had felt monumental and fragile at the same time.

“Look at her now,” his wife murmured.

Naeun was in her element, directing her uncles with the confidence of someone who’d never doubted her place in the world. She’d assigned Jeonghan the task of helping her make crowns for everyone (apparently, one royal crown wasn’t enough for a proper court), while Seokmin provided background music and Wonwoo prepared what he promised would be “actually impressive” magic.

“Uncle Hannie, this one needs more sparkles,” Naeun declared, holding up a construction paper crown that was already ninety percent glitter.

“More sparkles, got it,” Jeonghan replied seriously, reaching for another container of craft supplies. “What about Uncle Gyu’s crown? Should it match his height?”

“Make it extra tall so everyone knows he’s the giant uncle,” Naeun decided.

“I’m not a giant,” Mingyu protested from where he was attempting to fold his long limbs into a child-appropriate sitting position on the floor.

“You’re bigger than the refrigerator,” Naeun pointed out with irrefutable logic.

While the crown-making continued, Wonwoo had set up what appeared to be a proper magic show area, complete with a small table draped with one of Naeun’s blankets. His movements were precise and practiced in a way that suggested he’d been doing more than just casual research into children’s entertainment.

“When did you learn actual magic?” Seungcheol asked, genuinely curious.

“YouTube,” Wonwoo replied without looking up from his card arrangement. “Also, Mingyu’s cousin teaches kids’ magic classes. I may have attended a few sessions.”

“You took magic lessons for my daughter?”

“I took magic lessons for my pride,” Wonwoo corrected. “Getting outwitted by a five-year-old is unacceptable.”

Seokmin, meanwhile, had found the perfect background music tempo – something light and whimsical that made everything feel like a scene from a family movie. His voice hummed along with the melody, unconsciously harmonizing with himself in that way that never failed to remind Seungcheol why they’d all chosen music in the first place.

“Appa,” Naeun appeared at his elbow suddenly, having momentarily abandoned crown construction. “Are you happy?”

The question was so direct, so purely her, that it caught him off guard. “What do you mean, baby?”

“You’re making your thinking face,” she said, climbing onto his lap with the ease of long practice. “The one where you look far away. Are you thinking sad thoughts or happy thoughts?”

Seungcheol wrapped his arms around her small frame, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo mixed with glitter and cake frosting. “Very happy thoughts,” he said truthfully. “I was thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Because you have the best daughter in the world?” Naeun asked with a grin that was pure mischief.

“Because I have the best daughter in the world,” he agreed, “and the best wife in the world, and the most ridiculous uncles in the world who love you almost as much as I do.”

“That’s a lot of bests,” Naeun observed.

“I’m a very lucky appa.”

She seemed satisfied with this answer and settled more comfortably against his chest, content to supervise the ongoing craft production from her new vantage point. Seungcheol caught his wife’s eye across the room and saw his own contentment reflected back at him.

“Naeunie,” Jeonghan called, holding up a completed crown that was somehow even more elaborate than the original. “What do you think of Uncle Wonwoo’s royal headwear?”

The crown in question was a masterpiece of construction paper architecture, featuring multiple layers, an impressive array of gems (plastic, but convincing), and what appeared to be actual feathers. It was also approximately three times too large for any human head.

“It’s perfect,” Naeun declared. “Uncle Wonwoo will be the most royal uncle at the magic show.”

Wonwoo accepted his fate with the stoicism of someone who’d learned that resistance was futile when it came to Naeun’s vision. The crown perched precariously on his head, held in place by sheer determination and possibly divine intervention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced formally, “prepare to be amazed by feats of wonder and impossible possibility.”

What followed was genuinely impressive. Wonwoo had clearly put considerable effort into learning tricks that would actually surprise and delight a child, rather than the transparent sleight-of-hand that had characterized Mingyu’s previous attempts. Cards appeared and disappeared, coins materialized from behind ears, and somehow he managed to produce a small stuffed rabbit from what had definitely been an empty box.

Naeun was entranced, gasping and clapping at each reveal, but Seungcheol found himself equally captivated by the sight of his normally reserved friend fully committed to entertaining a five-year-old audience. There was something beautiful about watching people step outside their comfort zones for love.

“How did you do that?” Naeun demanded after a particularly impressive card trick.

“Magic,” Wonwoo replied solemnly. “True magic can’t be explained, only experienced.”

“But really, how?”

“Trade secret. Magicians never reveal their methods.”

Naeun considered this seriously, then nodded with acceptance. “Okay, but can you teach me one that I can show Mama later?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Wonwoo said, and Seungcheol made a mental note to prepare for his daughter’s inevitable new obsession with prestidigitation.

The afternoon continued in this vein, flowing from activity to activity with the organic rhythm that seemed to characterize all gatherings involving Naeun. After magic came a mini concert, with Seokmin leading everyone in increasingly silly songs while Joshua provided harmony and Jeonghan added dramatic interpretive dance.

Mingyu had appointed himself official photographer, documenting every moment with the dedication of a professional despite the fact that his subjects kept moving and his main model had a tendency to make faces at the camera when she thought no one was looking.

“Appa, come sing with us,” Naeun called, having climbed onto the coffee table to serve as conductor for what appeared to be an original composition about tea parties and magic shows.

“I don’t know the words,” Seungcheol protested weakly.

“There are no words!” she replied with five-year-old logic. “We’re making them up!”

And so Seungcheol found himself standing in his living room, surrounded by his bandmates and family, singing a nonsensical song about royal cake and magical uncles while his daughter conducted with the serious concentration of a maestro. His wife was laughing so hard she was crying, Kkuma was barking along in what might have been harmony, and somehow it was the most natural thing in the world.

This was what happiness looked like, he realized. Not the roar of crowds or the satisfaction of a perfect performance, but this – chaos and laughter and the complete absence of dignity in service of making one small person feel like the center of the universe.

As the impromptu concert wound down, exhaustion began to set in. Naeun’s energy, while impressive, was not infinite, and the combination of sugar, excitement, and multiple uncles had begun to take its toll. She found herself gravitating back toward Seungcheol’s lap, her movements becoming slower and her blinks longer.

“Someone’s getting sleepy,” his wife observed gently.

“I’m not sleepy,” Naeun protested, even as she curled more firmly against Seungcheol’s chest. “I’m just resting my eyes so I can see the magic better.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol agreed seriously. “That’s very smart princess thinking.”

One by one, her uncles began the process of taking their leave, each stopping to say proper goodbyes and receive official thanks for their contributions to the royal tea party. Jeonghan left behind enough craft supplies to stock a small art classroom, while Wonwoo presented Naeun with a junior magician’s kit and a promise to teach her three tricks at their next meeting.

Seokmin and Joshua coordinated their departure with the efficiency of long practice, but not before Seokmin had been made to promise to bring his guitar to the next family gathering. Mingyu lingered the longest, as he always did, reluctant to leave the peaceful chaos of their little family unit.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol said as he walked Mingyu to the door, Naeun having finally succumbed to sleep in his arms.

“For what? Bringing cake? That’s basic uncle duty.”

“For all of it,” Seungcheol gestured vaguely at the living room, which looked like a craft store had exploded in the most wonderful way. “For loving her like she’s yours.”

Mingyu’s expression grew serious for a moment. “Hyung, she kind of is mine. Yours and hers and all of ours. That’s how family works, right?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol said quietly, “that’s exactly how family works.”

After Mingyu left, the apartment settled into the peaceful quiet that followed a day well-spent. His wife began the process of cleaning up while Seungcheol carried Naeun to her bedroom, carefully navigating around the various craft projects and new toys that marked the path of her day.

He tucked her into bed still wearing her princess crown, deciding that some rules were made to be broken. She stirred slightly as he pulled her blankets up, just enough to mumble something that sounded like “best tea party ever” before settling back into sleep.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Back in the living room, his wife had made impressive progress on the cleanup, sorting craft supplies and folding blankets with practiced efficiency. Kkuma had reclaimed her favorite spot on the couch, though she was still wearing one small bow from her earlier princess transformation.

“Leave it,” Seungcheol said as his wife reached for the last of the paper crown supplies. “She’ll want to finish those tomorrow.”

“Our dining room table is going to be unusable for a week,” she pointed out, but there was no real complaint in her voice.

“We’ll eat on TV trays. It’ll be an adventure.”

She laughed, settling beside him on the couch and curling into his side with the easy intimacy of years together. “Remember when we thought having a baby would make our lives quieter?”

“I remember thinking a lot of stupid things before she came along,” Seungcheol said, tightening his arms around her. “Like thinking I knew what love was.”

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Choi Seungcheol.”

“I’m getting honest in my old age,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the last of the afternoon light fade through their windows. The apartment still hummed with the energy of the day – glitter catching the light, the lingering scent of fancy cake, the echo of laughter in every corner.

“She’s going to remember today forever,” his wife said softly.

“Good,” Seungcheol replied. “I want her to remember that she’s loved. Not just by us, but by everyone who matters to us. I want her to know that our family is bigger than just blood, and that she’ll never have to navigate this world alone.”

“Even when she’s fifteen and hates us for existing?”

“Especially then. That’s when she’ll need Uncle Mingyu to remind her that her parents are actually pretty cool, and Uncle Jeonghan to teach her how to get revenge on mean girls, and Uncle Wonwoo to show her that quiet strength is just as powerful as loud confidence.”

His wife tilted her head to look at him. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted. “About what kind of life we’re giving her, what kind of person she’s going to become. Today… today I realized I don’t have to worry so much. Look at how she commanded that room, how she made everyone feel special and included. Look at how naturally she loves people and expects to be loved back.”

“She gets that from you, you know.”

“She gets that from both of us. And from them.” He gestured toward the door through which his bandmates had recently departed. “She’s growing up surrounded by people who chose to love each other, who made family out of friendship and commitment instead of just accepting what they were given. That’s not nothing.”

“No,” his wife agreed quietly, “that’s everything.”

Later that evening, after dinner had been eaten off TV trays as predicted and Naeun had been convinced to take a bath despite her argument that princesses didn’t need to wash off their royal sparkles, Seungcheol found himself in her bedroom for the second time that day.

She was already in her pajamas, a set covered in cartoon dragons that seemed to contradict her earlier dedication to princess aesthetics, but somehow made perfect sense for her eclectic personality. Her hair was still damp from the bath, and she smelled like lavender body wash and childhood.

“Appa, will you tell me a story?” she asked as he tucked her in properly this time, having convinced her to remove the crown for sleeping.

“What kind of story do you want?”

“A story about today. But make it like a real story, with once upon a time and everything.”

Seungcheol settled into the chair beside her bed, the same chair where he’d spent countless nights during her infancy, watching her sleep and marveling at the fact that he’d helped create something so perfect and terrifying.

“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a princess who lived in a magical kingdom with her mama and papa and her loyal companion, a brave white dragon named Kkuma.”

“Dragons can’t be white,” Naeun interrupted drowsily.

“This one could. It was a very special dragon. Now, one day, the princess decided to hold the most magnificent tea party in all the land…”

He wove the day’s events into a proper fairy tale, complete with magical uncles who appeared with gifts and talents, enchanted cakes that granted wishes, and crowns that bestowed special powers upon their wearers. Naeun’s eyes grew heavy as the story progressed, but she fought sleep to hear every detail, occasionally murmuring corrections or additions to ensure accuracy.

“…and so the princess realized that the real magic wasn’t in the tricks or the crowns or even the cake,” Seungcheol continued softly, “but in being surrounded by people who loved her enough to spend their day making hers special. And she lived happily ever after, knowing that whenever she needed them, her magical uncles would appear with exactly what she needed most.”

“What did she need most?” Naeun whispered, though her eyes were already closed.

“Love,” Seungcheol said simply. “She needed to know she was loved, and she was. More than she could ever imagine.”

“That’s a good story, Appa.”

“It’s a true story, baby. The best kind.”

He sat with her until her breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, then allowed himself a few more minutes to simply watch her. Five years old, with the whole world ahead of her and the unshakeable confidence that came from being unconditionally loved. She would face challenges, heartbreaks, moments of doubt – but she would face them knowing she had an entire chosen family in her corner.

His phone buzzed quietly with a message. The group chat, predictably.

Mingyu: Thanks for today, hyung. I needed that more than you know.

Jeonghan: Same. Nothing like princess duty to put life in perspective.

Wonwoo: I’ve already ordered more magic supplies. Next time I’m doing levitation.

Seokmin: I’m writing a song about royal tea parties. Naeun inspired me.

Joshua: My mom wants to know when the next family dinner is. She’s making Naeun a matching tea set.

Seungcheol smiled, typing back quickly: You’re all ridiculous. She’s going to be so spoiled.

Mingyu: That’s the point of being an uncle.

Jeonghan: Wait until she starts dating. We’re going to be terrifying.

Wonwoo: I’m already researching intimidation techniques.

Seokmin: We have fifteen years to prepare!

Joshua: Thirteen years. Kids grow up fast these days.

Seungcheol could picture them all, scattered across the city but connected by their phones and their shared investment in his daughter’s wellbeing. They’d be there for every birthday, every school play, every milestone and heartbreak. They’d spoil her outrageously and drive him crazy and love her with the fierce protectiveness that had always characterized their approach to family.

He turned off the bedside lamp and padded quietly out of Naeun’s room, closing the door behind him with practiced stealth. His wife was already in their bedroom, propped up against the pillows with a book and a cup of tea, looking completely at peace with the chaos that had been their day.

“How long did the story take?” she asked as he began changing into pajamas.

“Longer than usual. She wanted all the details included for historical accuracy.”

“Of course she did. She’s your daughter.”

Seungcheol climbed into bed beside her, automatically reaching for her hand the way he had every night for years. “Today was perfect.”

“Today was exhausting,” she corrected with a laugh. “But yes, also perfect.”

“I keep thinking about what Mingyu said. About how she’s all of ours. Sometimes I feel guilty about how much they love her, like I’m taking advantage of their kindness.”

“Seungcheol.” His wife set down her book and turned to face him fully. “They don’t love her because they have to. They love her because she’s loveable, and because she’s part of you, and because love multiplies when you share it. You’re not taking advantage of anything – you’re giving them the gift of being part of something beautiful.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“I married you, didn’t I? I had to develop wisdom in self-defense.”

He laughed, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Even when you get all philosophical about tea parties.”

“Especially then.”

They lay together in comfortable silence, processing the day and preparing for whatever tomorrow would bring. Probably more craft projects, definitely more questions about magic tricks, possibly another impromptu gathering of uncles bearing gifts and chaos.

“Hey,” his wife said suddenly, her voice soft in the darkness.

“What?”

“We’re really good at this, aren’t we? The whole family thing?”

Seungcheol thought about his daughter’s laughter, about the easy way his bandmates had folded themselves into their domestic life, about the casual miracle of ordinary happiness. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “we really are.”

And in the room down the hall, a five-year-old princess slept peacefully, dreaming of magic shows and royal tea parties, secure in the knowledge that she was the center of a universe built entirely from love. Tomorrow there would be more adventures, more laughter, more opportunities to learn that family wasn’t just about the people you were born to, but about the people who chose to show up, day after day, with cake and crowns and an endless capacity for making the ordinary feel magical.

It was, Seungcheol reflected as sleep finally claimed him, the best kind of fairy tale – the kind that was absolutely, perfectly true.

[nadvs]

nads .... can we pls get make up sex w rafe :'(((( him all but cooing in ur ear as he fucks u within an inch of ur life like he's really being sooo sweet about it :'(((((((( 💔💔💔💔 Yeah i'm thinking thoughts ....

the way i’m obsessed with desperate makeup sex with ex-boyfriend rafe... combined this ask by @abrellareads 💘 college au. fratboy!rafe. explicit smut. 18+!

it happened so fast.

rafe was across the crowded room, in the throws of yet another party, wearing that charming smile that made you fall in love, holding the same power over you that you wish you never gave him.

it’s been a month since. after a ruthless cycle of different versions of the same fights, you went over to his place and told him you couldn’t be with him anymore.

earlier tonight, you were watching him from the other side of the party, thinking about how long a month feels and how your ex-boyfriend still owns every piece of your heart.

a fight broke out. if you weren’t already watching him, you wouldn’t have to guess he was involved. whenever there’s commotion, he’s often in the middle of it. attracting chaos.

you left. you were unable to take any of it anymore. you’d broken up with him to rid yourself of the stress that came with loving him, but even as a supposed part of your history, he pulled you into his storm.

you made it home. you got ready for bed. something came over you before you turned out the lights. you’ve missed him so much it hurts.

your fingers went from the lightswitch to your phone and you found his name and texted him asking if he was home.

rafe replied quickly. he figured a simple yes would’ve been good enough. but because he’s hurting for you, because he’s painfully desperate, he added come over to the end.

and you’re here. you’re at his doorstep, as tense as you were the night you broke up with him.

the house he lives in is hardly ever quiet, but when he swings open the door, you’re certain he’s the only one home. the rest of his frat brothers must still be at the party you left, while he’s by himself with a red, swelling splotch on his cheekbone where he’d been hit in that ridiculous fight back on the other end of greek row.

“hey,” he says stiffly.

“hey.” you motion to your cheek. “that hurt?”

“i’m fine.”

it’s a lie. he hasn’t been fine since you told him you couldn’t do this anymore. you pushed him into a hole and he’s been too hopeless to even try to crawl out.

“is that why you came here?” rafe murmurs. he hates himself for asking. he just wants to feel you against him and questioning you at his front door won’t get him there.

it’s a defense mechanism. he’s trying to act careless when he’s anything but.

he steps back, a silent way to beckon you in. warm relief floods him when you close the distance to come inside.

“partly,” you reply. wordlessly, you follow him upstairs, each step creaking the way you remember. you’ve been here so many times, rushing to rafe’s bedroom, lips on his the second the door shut.

this time, when the door closes, the soft thud is a harsh reminder of the last time you were here. you were sure it would really be the final conversation. you were done with him.

“why, then?” he rasps, standing across from you in the middle of his small, cluttered bedroom.

muscle memory. instinct. an involuntary reflex. you can’t help but step forward, finding your fingers in his hair, pulling him towards you.

“one last time,” you say in a strained whine you weren’t expecting. “we never said goodbye.”

rafe’s body tightens. you did say goodbye. you said you’re better off out of each other’s lives and you didn’t start crying about what that really meant until he did. nothing he said was enough to convince you to stay.

he looks at your lips, at the pleading look in your eyes. fuck, how good it’d feel to tell you no. to tell you to get out of his house.

but it’s feel so much better being buried deep inside you again, listening to you breathlessly groan his name, hearing your bodies meet over and over.

clothes are tugged off hurriedly and clumsily and every bit of his skin that you get to feel again is an electric shock that zips through you. your heart races as he buries his face into the crook of your neck to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses.

your knees weaken as he grips your ass once your pants are on the floor, and like he used to, he reads your body, senses your loss of strength, and guides you to his bed.

everything smells like him. his detergent, his cologne, his musk all envelop you in the soft duvet beneah you. you’d been in this bed so many times, clung onto the sheets, tiredly laughed with him when the bed frame would hit the wall with your rushed movements.

rafe hovers over you, still kissing your neck. he hasn’t felt your lips against his yet and when he shifts to finally taste your tongue, he grunts in pleasure.

you run your hands down the curve of his firm, bare back. you stop at the band of his boxers and surrender to him, spreading your legs so he can settle between them.

“fuck,” you breathe when you feel his hard length, only two layers between you now. he’s already at that point and the aching at your core pulses with the same desperation.

“what’d you expect?” he whispers against your mouth. his words make the air thicker and the room spin.

rafe can pretend he doesn’t care, but his body can’t. it burns for you, and you only. no other girl comes close. no other girl makes him act the way you do, makes him gaze at her while she’s not paying attention and leads him to wonder what he did to deserve to be alive at the same time as her.

you. only you.

“take this off,” he rasps, fingers looping beneath your bra strap. you move to unhook it, but he does it for you, taking over like always. like before.

he doesn’t wait for the next part. he pulls your panties down, groaning a quiet oh my god when he sees you. your breath’s caught as you watch him sit up to tug his boxers off, springing out, every inch of him as perfect as you remember.

his throat tightens with something that feels like the threat of tears when you pull him down to you. it’s overwhelming to feel loved again by someone who once looked like she was bothered by his very existence.

but you said this is goodbye. one last time.

rafe’s never been one to think of what’s next. impulsiveness runs through his veins. consequences are an afterthought.

but he can’t do it. he can’t feel you wrapped around him to know you’ll just leave him cold yet again, leave him to lick his wounds and continue living as if he isn’t shattered.

blue eyes meet yours, his hard desire for you nudging against your entrance. his hands are on the bed, framing your pretty face, hovering over you as he pants.

“this isn’t goodbye,” he says. “you’re my girl. say it.”

you gaze up at him, the weight on your chest almost debilitating. you’re afraid you don’t have it in you. loving him is hard. it hurts. he’s a beautiful disaster of a man and choosing him to be in your life is a game of roulette.

“i’ll be better,” he whispers, his heart breaking even more from the way you’re silently staring at him.

you’d heard it so many times. i’ll change. i’ll get my shit together. i’ll be the man you need me to be. and it claws at your heart, wondering if you should’ve been telling him you’d be the woman he needed you to be, too.

“so will i,” you finally whisper. you’ll try again. because living without him is agony.

his face twists with sadness, with longing, with relief, and he leans to kiss you as he guides himself in, exhaling pure elation.

you quietly groan from the sweet pressure. he feels you stiffen. he pulls back, regretful, but your hands splay over his lower back to push him back inside.

you wrap your legs around his hips and he gives you every inch, head swimming from how hot and tight and wet you are.

“fuck, i missed you,” rafe breathes.

“me, too.” the knot finally loosens. the stress of pretending like you’re okay, like ending things was the right choice is gone now.

you kiss his lips as his thrusts start to get harder, and you know he’s the right choice. he always was.

“i’m sorry,” you say, voice strained again.

“stop,” he whispers. his forehead presses against yours as he rocks in and out of you, stretching and filling you perfectly. “all i care about is that you came back, alright?”

“yeah,” you say shakily. “i love you.”

your heat, your softness, your everything make him reach his peak faster than he ever has, whispering i love you against your mouth and begging you to say you love him again as he tightens and trembles and shifts to touch you exactly the way you need to be touched to meet your climax.

your head is on his chest moments later, shallow breaths overlapping in the humid air. every thud of his heart felt against your cheek.

you watch as he plays with your fingers on his stomach, chest still rising and falling quickly. his arm is around you as you lay tucked into him, back home where you belong.

rafe’s brows furrow as his fingers trace yours, tense you’ll take it all back and leave him to lie in this bed alone again, doomed to know he can only have you in his dreams.

“can i sleep here?” you ask meekly, and his lips pull into a grin. he breathes a chuckle, hopeful again, out of the hole you’d pushed him in, feeling sunlight on his skin.

“you better,” he says.

[yasministration]

oh and also more no boundaries spencer 🙏🏼🙏🏼 just re-read it and I need him so bad. like dial up the lack of boundaries, the possessiveness (from him) and you're cooking

not dating - spencer reid

summary: you and spencer were not dating. then why did you act like this? wc: 2.1k+ cw: SMUT, possessive/jealous spence Pt 2 to 'and they were roommates' but this could also be read as a standalone. a/n: I HOPE THIS DID IT. like i totally see what you mean, i feel as though the last fic wasn't as non-boundaries as i was trying to emulate, so i hope this one was better. we're gonna get there no boundaries anon, don't worry

You and Spencer were not dating.

That was part of the promise that sleeping together would not affect your friendship. So instead, you continued living together as per usual, staying best friends. But there were signs that Spencer thought of you as more as a friend. For example, tonight. You had ever so sweetly asked Spencer if you could host a little party for your birthday and he had said yes, anything for you.

But now, Spencer had realised that the party was slightly bigger than just ‘little‘.

You were Spencer’s best friend; there was no one he loved more than you, but at the sight of some of your friends, he frowned. You were always mature and kind, but some of the people you shared classes with were seriously immature, and gave Spencer the impression that they were all frat boys when they they did their bachelors degree.

You were lost in the apartment, dancing to the music with a drink in hand. Spencer sat on the couch, watching as people danced around you, the conversation had by the two girls on the couch completely drowned out. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, huffing slightly. He didn’t like that your attention wasn’t on him. Worse, he hated that your attention was on a tall, finance bro looking guy, so typically masculine with his hand resting on your hip as he moved his body with yours.

Spencer stood up, making his way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. Your eyes lit up as you spotted him on the dance floor and you immediately abandoned the man you were dancing with to greet him with a big hug. “Hey Spence! Come meet my friend Denis!” Denis, Spencer thought. He had a finance bro name too. Spencer kept an arm around your waist as you dragged him over to meet your friend.

The two men introduced themselves with a solid handshake, and Spencer was glad to discover that Denis was shorter than him. “Oh, you’re the FBI guy, right? The genius?” Spencer grinned, looking down at you and attempting to guise his arrogance by teasing you. “Talk about me much?” “Can’t help myself, Spence.”

“Let me guess Denis," Spencer started. "Accounting and finance.”

“Shit, you really are a genius! How’d you know?”

“Well, the FBI doesn’t just hire anyone.” Spencer replied with a wink, dragging you away from Denis and the busy crowd of dancing bodies. His smirk dropped when he turned away from Denis, rolling his eyes. It didn't take a genius to take a guess at Denis's major. Spencer kept guiding you across the apartment until he was playing with his keys to open the locked kitchen door. “The kitchen, Spence? We have two bedrooms and this is what you choose?” Your roommate kicked the door shut, digging his head into the crook of your neck and whining softly at your words.

Giggling softly, you wrapped your arms over Spencer’s shoulders, a hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck. His hands tightened around your waist and he pushed you back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Spencer’s front laid flat against yours and he deeply inhaled your perfumed scent as you held each other in the kitchen.

“You sick of everyone?” Spencer nodded against the skin of your neck and you turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his head. Spencer dug his head out from your neck, glimpsing down towards your lips with a silent question. He leaned in closer, and you smiled softly, pressing your lips against his in a short kiss. ”Why don’t you hide away in your room? No one will say anything.”

“I want to be close to you.”

“Oh Spence, you know I’m right here.” Spencer’s hands trailed underneath your shirt, cold against the warmth of your body. “Hey, look at me.” Spencer abided to your request, lifting his eyes up to meet yours. “I promise when everyone leaves I’ll come to your room and cuddle.” Spencer licked his lips, staying silent for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay.”

But Spencer didn’t move away yet. “Spence?” “I-I don’t want Denis to flirt with you.”

“I’ll stay as far away from him as I can, okay?” Spencer looked back towards the kitchen door before turning back to you and dipping his head down to kiss you again, claiming your lips as his.

You and Spencer were not dating.

Even as he retreated into his room, locking the door behind him and you returned to your friends, you stayed away from a flirtatious Denis, just because you had promised him to. You knew Denis could have wooed you into bed, and you could have had an enjoyable night together, but you promised Spencer to return to him when the party was over to give him all the cuddles he could want.

Your friends asked you about him. Is he single? They questioned, because Spencer was undeniably an attractive man. And despite the raging jealousy you felt, you smiled with raised eyebrows, teasing them about their crush on him. But no, you told them, he’s not single. Because even though you weren't dating: Spencer was yours.

“Anyway he’s my best friend. He’s off limits anyway.” And your friends had shared a look, asking what he had pulled you into the kitchen for. You didn’t realise they had seen. “He got overwhelmed by the crowd. Wanted to tell me he’d be going to his room.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

You shooed away the last of your crowd of friends through the gap in the open door, telling them you loved having them over, but Spencer didn’t want anyone home past 1 am, hence the timing on the invitation.

Locking the door behind Amelia, who insisted for you to ‘Have fun with Spencer’ while winking at you. Of course she knew. Not because he was the person closest to you after Spencer, but because you were so obvious, and she had an eye for romance.

Knocking on Spencer’s door, it didn’t even take him five seconds to open it for you. He smiled at you, contacts replaced by his thickly rimmed glasses, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “I need to take my makeup off and change into pyjamas, but I just wanted to tell you everyone’s gone.” Spencer nodded, following you out into the narrow hallway and towards your room.

His hands found home on your hips when you came to a stop in front of your bathroom mirror, reaching for your cotton pads and micellar water. Spencer pushed his front against your back, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you take your makeup off. You grabbed your cleanser next, leaning over the sink as you watched away any last remnants of your makeup. Spencer was ready for you with some thick napkins instead of your face towel, dabbing gently at your face before you went in with moisturiser. "It's better than a towel," He'd say, "Since napkins are disposable, they won't gather bacteria like a towel. That would break you out."

“Want some?” Wordlessly, Spencer nodded, letting you spin in his arms to face him. You massaged the moisturiser into his skin, being carefully not to knock over his glasses. Spencer grabbed both your wrists, lowering your hands slightly so he could press kisses to your open palms.

You and Spencer were not dating.

He was welcome to stay in your bathroom though whilst you changed into your pyjamas. You lifted your dress over your head, stripping away your bra to throw a small tank top over your head. Spencer watched the exposed surface area of your body as you returned to your bedroom, fishing out large sweatpants before returning to the bathroom, still talking to Spencer as you let your panties slip down the expanse of your legs.

Tossing your clothes into your laundry basket, you hiked the sweatpants up your legs, humming attentively as Spencer gave you a break down on his opinions about each individual person who had been in your house just an hour ago.

You nodded, making a mental list of who you could never have over again. One that started with Denis, otherwise your best friend would go crazy.

“Let’s go to bed?”

You and Spencer were not dating.

But he guided you into his room anyway, and let you lay down on your preferred side of his bed, resting your head on the extra pillow he had just for you.

Spencer made himself comfortable against your back, light fingertips running alongside the dip of your waist. He pressed kisses to your shoulder, all the way up to your neck, where he had to move your hair to reach your skin.

You and Spencer were not dating.

His hand found the waistband of your sweatpants, licking his chapped lips before asking “Can I?” You hummed, lifting your hips up to make it easier for Spencer to drag your sweatpants down your legs. They stayed pooled around your ankles, but you had enough space to spread your legs for him as much as you could from your position on your side.

Spencer ran a hand up and down your thigh before ridding himself of the confines of his sweatpants. He brought a hand to his cock, stroking himself to make himself harder.

Changing your mind on the position, you flipped around on the bed so you could face Spencer, and he gasped at the sight of your low-cut tank top, exposing the sight of your tits to him, swollen from your compromising position on your side. Pushing away Spencer’s hand, you replaced it with your own, squeezing his shaft tightly. “Okay, okay, that’s good!” Spencer gasped, long fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop your movements on his cock, which was becoming increasingly sensitive.

His free hand eased your leg up to rest on his hip, opening you up for him. He slid his hand down to touch you, his fingers travelling down your slit before returning upwards to rub little circles onto your clit. “Not surprised you’re already so wet. You get horny when you drink.”

“Spence! That’s mean.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, I could say the same for you.”

“That’s no secret. But I’m always horny for you.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

Spencer slid a finger into your entrance, causing you to gasp loudly, a hand coming up to clutch his bicep. Removing his hand from you, he slid the finger coated with your juices into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he did, and the second his finger was out of his mouth, your lips were on him, eagerly kissing him.

The man moaned quietly, a hand wrapping around his dick to bring it to your entrance, beginning to push it in mid-kiss. You whined loudly, breaking apart from the kiss to throw your head back, pushing your chest up. Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight of your chest so close to his face, so with a final thrust of his hips, filling you up completely, he moved his attention to your tits, pulling your shirt up to expose them to him.

Leaning down, Spencer captured a nipple between his lips, sucking gently on the bud. You gasped, bringing a hand up to lace in Spencer’s hair. Your hips began moving on their own accord, grinding against Spencer to feel every inch of his cock inside you. Spencer pulled his hips back slightly, moving them forward to push back into you.

The movements were lazy, your hips rolling to support his motions. Spencer moaned out your name, feeling his balls tighten with his approaching orgasm. He separated his mouth from your tits, bringing his lips to your neck, where he immediately began sucking hickeys onto your skin, dragging his teeth against your neck. You shuddered, arching your back when his fingertips connected to your clit, adding pressure onto the already sensitive area.

You could tell he was pulling out all the stops to try and make you cum with him, but it was still working.

You and Spencer were not dating.

But as you both orgasmed, crying out each other’s names like a shared secret, Spencer couldn’t stop the confession from tumbling out of his lips like a prayer. “I love you.” He cried, hips stuttering before stilling, emptying his load inside you. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

When you came down from your high, you giggled softly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s lips and mumbling “I love you too, Spence.”

You and Spencer were not dating.

But he still made sure you went to the bathroom and drank plenty of water to rehydrate yourself, before forcing you back into bed with him, where he held you as you slept in his arms. Like, really held you.

You and Spencer were not dating, but it was in that moment that Spencer decided he would ask you to become his. Officially.

taglist: @dearlizzies, @tiaajosephin

[whatifitis]

♡ You Make Me Crazier - LN 4 ♡

Summary: this is based off this request! Lando spends most of the night playing Tarkov with Max and ends up keeping his gf awake for hours. so guess who's in a bad mood in the morning while the other is just vibing 😀

WC: 1781

CW: fluff, lando being loud (NOT IN THAT WAY PERVS), pillow tossing

Finally, the end of the season has come and the peace can begin. Lando and yourself had joined the team in celebration of Mclaren winning the constructors’. But Lando decided to leave the party quite early as he’d wanted to play some Tarkov with Max. You didn’t argue, you were pretty exhausted from such an eventful day, you were excited to hop into bed and get some much needed rest while Lando played some games. 

The two of you had arrived back in your hotel room and Lando quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before letting you know he was going to play Tarkov immediately. You watched him race to the desk with his laptop. You didn’t mind him playing video games, you knew it did him some good. Tarkov was sort of a safe place for him to forget about the real world a bit and you were grateful that he had something like that. Although, you’re not sure how he finds that game peaceful as it is one of the most stressful games you know of. It’s not like Animal Crossing where you just talk to villagers and hunt and gather. 

You got ready for bed, taking a nice shower to get rid of the smell from being out all day and partying. You think there was a bit of rose water still in your hair. Taking your time, you smile as you hear Lando’s laughter from the main room. It’s rare to hear it nowadays. 

Once you’re ready for bed, you walk over to Lando and tap him on the shoulder, “Love, I’m going to sleep now. Don’t stay up late, we have to be at the track early tomorrow for testing. And don’t be too loud, I wanna sleep a decent amount and I don’t want another noise complaint from the hotel.” you tease. 

“Alright, darling. I’ll try and keep it down and I won’t be long. Goodnight.” he says as he softly kisses you before returning to his gaming session. 

You got settled into bed and closed your eyes, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep. But the universe decided you weren’t going to sleep yet as Lando could not, for the life of him, keep it down. One second he was laughing his head off and the next he was doing some sort of accent that was a mix of German and Bulgarian? 

Slightly opening your eyes, you peer up at him and you silently scold him for being too noisy. You grab a small pillow off the bed and toss it in his direction, watching as it bounces off his back a bit. You can hear as he whispers “Guys, I think I fucked up.��� before removing his headphones and turning to look at you, “I’m sorry, love. I’ll keep it down now, swear.” 

With that statement, you flop back down and sink into the bed. Thinking you’ve successfully gotten him to quiet down, until you hear him nearly wheezing from something Max said. This went on for another few hours, each minute passing you got more annoyed. But you didn’t want to say anything because you knew that these moments were hard for Lando to get and you knew he needed this time a lot. He needed to spend time with his friends and enjoy himself. He deserved it. 

So there you were, eyes dry as Oscar Piastri’s humor, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for Lando to log off for the night. You look at the clock and it was already 2 am. Your alarm was set for 7:30 am so that you could get ready and maybe eat before heading to the track. You cursed the universe and time difference, questioning what you did to deserve 5 hours of sleep. 

Finally, you heard Lando tell Max that he was done for the night and that he was logging off. 

Praise the lord. 

Lando shut his laptop and quietly got up from his seat, turning to see you still awake and on your phone. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” 

“Are you for real?” you blankly stare at him. 

“What?”

“You were still loud, Lan. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to shut up? More than once? You know I’m not a very good listener.” he jokes. 

“I know. But you love being able to play Tarkov and stuff with Max and them. I didn’t want to stop you from doing that.”

“Oh, baby. Next time smack me over the head. I don’t like that I kept you up for so long.” he says, walking to sit by you on the bed. 

“It’s okay, Lan. Seriously. I can still get about 5 hours of sleep.”

“That’s absolute rubbish. Why don’t you sleep in? You can meet me on the track later or you can spend the day relaxing.”

“Nah. I wanna go with you and see the car. I also wanna mock Zak cause I know he’s gonna be hungover as fuck.” you laugh. 

“Fine. But I’ll make sure you get some Celsius tomorrow, even though they don’t sponsor Mclaren! Monster does. Just make sure to cover the can if there’s cameras.”

“Thanks. Now shut up so I can sleep.” you say, rolling to sleep on your side. 

“Alright, we’ll sleep now. Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

-=+=-

It was indeed not a goodnight. You woke up to your alarm blaring loudly in your ear. Your eyes felt as if they were glued shut, you couldn’t open them to turn off your alarm. After a few attempts of trying to find your phone with your eyes closed, you reached over to Lando and shoved him, “Lando, turn it off. If it keeps ringing, I’m gonna kick both you and the phone into a wall!”

“Damn, someone’s already in a bad mood.” Lando mutters as he reaches across your body to grab your phone and mute it. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. That was, until Lando’s own alarm started going off. You were already off your rocker and his alarm sent you off the edge. He was still hovering over you and setting your phone back down so you end up “accidentally” tossing him off the bed with your eyes shut. All you heard was the thud that came from his body hitting the floor. 

Lando was so thrown off. He quickly stood up with his hands on his hips as he stared down at you. “Okay, I was gonna let you off for slapping me awake and making me turn off your alarm. But that was rude! You just tossed me off the bed. Not cool, babe.”

“Your fault for keeping me up for so long. Now I’ve had about 5 hours of sleep and you’re already on my nerves.”

“Since I’m so generous, I’ll let you sleep 10 more minutes. If you don’t wake up, I’ll be rolling you off the bed.” With that, he softly kisses your head and goes and gets ready for the day. 

Lando had taken a shower and gotten dressed, so it was time to awaken the beast, aka you.

He quietly walked over to your sleeping figure and sat next to you. Gently, he places a hand on your back and slowly rubs it, letting you know it had been 15 minutes and that it was time for you to wake up. He was met with an annoyed groan and a swatting away of his hand. 

“Okay, wake up. If you don’t get up now, I’ll make sure all the Celsius and coffee are hidden from you today.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” you side eye him. 

“Oh I would.” He smiles cheekily. 

“Piss off.” you, hitting him with a pillow, causing him to dramatically flop onto the floor. 

“Damn, you make me fall all the time. I’m so unbelievably in love with you.” he says, trying to flash you a cheeky smile but you were not having it. You got out of bed and locked yourself in the backroom so you could get ready for the day. 

After about 4 minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Through muffled sounds, you could hear your boyfriend begging to be let in, “Baby, can you let me in please. I feel so lonely and bored. I want to hug you, please. Let me in, please. Let me innn, let me innnnnnn.” 

As much as he was pissing you off, you loved him too much to leave him out there alone. Plus, you were sure he was going to break something, a bone, if he’s left unsupervised for too long. Opening the door, you watched as Lando slid down the door and onto the floor. He was leaning on the door with all his weight so he didn’t land gracefully. 

“Oh would you look at that? I’ve fallen for you, again!” he laughs, still you’re not having it. 

You go back to doing your makeup in the mirror. You’re focused on your eyeliner when you feel something, Lando, grab your ankles. He pulls himself closer and wraps himself around your legs. 

“Koala mode. Oscah mode. Mark Webbah mode.”

“Off.” you try to shake him off. 

“Not until you love me again.” 

“I still love you, somehow. Get off.” you try and shake him off again. 

“Please. Please. PLEEEAAASSSEE” he squeals.

“Lan! Up.”

Almost as if he were a soldier being commanded, he jumped up to his feet. 

“I’m sorry, babe. Really, I am. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” he says, hugging you from behind and planting soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, “I shouldn’t have stayed up for so long and yelled so much. I’ll be better, I promise. Please, forgive me.” he’s gone all soft now, truly afraid he’s messed up. 

You turn in his arms to face him, “Lan, listen to me, yeah? As much as your late night gaming can annoy me, I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s a sense of peace I feel whenever I get to hear you talk and laugh. People would claw for pieces to get that type of peace. So don’t worry. I still love you and will continue loving you. Even if it means less sleep. You still owe me a Celsius though.” you smile at him. 

His heart feels like it’s surrounded by butterflies. He loved hearing how much you love him and he’s relieved that you aren’t too mad at him. 

He softly connects your lips with his. He only feels happy and safe when he’s with you. So he thanks god everyday for you. He also thanks god for the fact that you can be bribed with Celsius.

[rayaswrittings]

I just want to feel

Pairing: Colby Brock x Fem!best friend!reader

Summary: your best friends, Sam and Colby, ask you to be in one of their Q&A videos, but there’s alcohol involved… a lot of it.

Warning(s): SMUT! Mature Language, mature themes, kissing, alcohol, unprotected p in v, Friends to lovers trope :)), choking etc.

This is a long writing so I’m sorry for mistakes!

“Are you sure I should be in the video? I mean, your fans barely know about me” You ask for a final time as Sam leads you to the living room, his recording camera already set up in front of the couch where Colby had been sitting. The two of them were wearing all black so you did too, a black off the shoulder sweater that was old. It was one of the main things you’d leave at Sam and Colby’s in case you ever crashed for the night.

While most people would kill to be in their videos, you never really saw the point. You were somewhat camera shy and a complete nobody. Why would anyone care to see you on the screen? Not to mention all the random internet ships that come with it all. You grew up with Sam, which means you ultimately grew up with Colby as soon as they met. You were only a teenager and now that your adults, you stay at theirs from time to time when your out with friends and get wasted at a party.

Colby would always come and get you from them.

“Our fans will love you. Just be honest and chill, okay?” Sam nods toward Colby and you walk past him to sit next to the dark haired boy, his strong cologne filling your nose.

“Don’t be nervous, at least we have alcohol” Colby’s comment made a small laugh escape from your lips, and you shook your head at his playful smirk. He was right. Alcohol always calmed you down and made your anxiety a little bit less of what it usually was.

You watch the blonde lean forward to turn on the camera and Colby does the same, although you sit back and watch them do their intro. You’d only been in a few other videos of there’s as a small guest but they always made it known to their fans who you were. After all, you all basically started off nobody’s together.

You remember the last morning you had left for school with Sam in freshman year. It was the last day you’d left alone with him for the rest of high school. Your parents were close to each other so you and Sam had practically known each other for most of your lives, but that day, when he met Colby, it wasn’t just the two of you anymore.

The three of you would take the bus together every morning and walk home every afternoon, spending almost every second in between still with one another. It was perfect. Your group was so refreshing, it felt so right.

Your first argument was when you were in junior year, at a party you knew you shouldn’t of been at.

At the time, you’d been talking to this senior, James. He was the captain of your schools swim team and fairly muscular for his 17 years of age. That night at the party was the first time you’d really done anything, he kept handing you shots and like an idiot, you took them. Looking back on it now, you know it could’ve been avoided, but you also trusted the boy you liked. You truly wanted to just fit in with his friends.

That was until he tried to to undo your crochet top in the middle of the dance floor, whispering dirty nothings into your ear that made you feel disgusting.

When you told him off, he got angry with you, grabbing your arm and trying to pull you away so he could get you alone. People were starting to stare and you were starting to get embarrassed, like you were some random slut he’d been taking upstairs.

But then he was ripped away from you, and in only a matter of seconds, Sam’s hand was laid on the small of your back, checking you for bruises the boy might’ve given you. He was trying to talk to you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the chaos on the floor.

“Colby, get off of him!” You scream, noticing the blood coming from James’s face. Colby was on top of him, punching him the hardest you’d ever seen anyone punch, not sparing him anything. Sam held you back when you tried to get close, they saw what he did to you and there was no way in hell they’d let it slide.

The sound of police sirens fill the street and everyone is quickly running out of the house, and finally Colby stands up. He wipes his now busted lip before looking back at his two friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bloody mess laid on the floor.

You hated blood.

“Y/N-“ you push yourself off Sam and past Colby, looking out the window to watch the police cars pull in front of the house. It looked like a murder scene, and you were so in shock you couldn’t even think straight. “Y/N, we have to go” Colby tries to grab your arm but you quickly pull it away, and now he’s able to see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Get out of here!” You can hear the officers radio the closer they get, and all you could think about was getting Sam and Colby out of there. “Go! Please just go!” Your pleading words make it almost impossible to not listen, and with only a few more seconds, your friends were gone.

That was the day you realized the severity of your friendship— or at least you and Colby’s friendship. The fact that all of you would do anything for each other, whether that was beating up an abuser, or putting your life on the line for the other person.

Ever since then, you and Colby had this undeniable tension between the two of you. It was weird, like something you couldn’t figure out. It was only made purely visible that night.

You’d never even kissed Colby, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about it sometimes. Your usually able to hide it, your desire for the boy, except when your at parties.

Whenever you drink, it’s like everything has to come out the way you think it. Nothing like liquid courage, huh? That’s the exact reason you didn’t want to do the video.

You never stopped thinking about that night.

“Y/N?” You blinked at the touch against your arm, and Colby was looking at you with a slight confusion on his face. “You okay?” You notice the camera’s recording light and nod, sitting up with a smile. “I think it’s time to get drunk, huh?” He nudged you and you nod with a laugh “first question!”

One of your other friends was there reading the questions for you, and even though you thought you’d start off light, she did not give you a break.

“What’s the worst doing the dirty experience you’ve had?” Sam and Colby stare at each other for a second until one of them laughs, shaking their head with the dumbest response. Sam, of course makes a joke out of it but Colby has no shame in what he says, as always.

“One time I had a girl use a lot of teeth, and uh… we never talked again. It was very awkward” Sam hisses at the statement, which makes you laugh too. “What about you, Y/N?” Colby turns to you and your face almost turns red from the sudden eyes on you. Everyone in the room and the camera was waiting on you now.

“Uh… I guess the last time I was talking to a guy. I had to fake the whole thing and he finished quick so it just felt so awkward and it was silent the rest of the night” Colby and Sam raise their eyebrows at you but are laughing at the same time. They knew who you were talking about.

“Colby, why do you post with girls on social media and never tell the fans what’s going on?” The question takes all of you by surprise and Colby’s eyes go wide. That was exactly what happened with you and why you didn’t want to be on the channel that much anymore.

“Umm…” He laughs nervously, looking over at you for a split second. “Because sometimes, I don’t know what’s going on, alright? I’m just posting the post and maybe it turns into something or maybe it doesn’t?”

“It’s not like their your girlfriend” Sam interjects and Colby nods agreeably.

“Let’s just say if I had a girlfriend, you guys would know” After you guys are done with that question, your kind of sitting back and watching the two answer at that point. Except they had to drink once so you did too, now you were all one shot in.

“Colby, why do you have a pair of handcuffs in your room?” Everyone’s face is in shock in the room as they look at Colby, waiting for his answer. He laughs nervously again, looking over at same with wide eyes before sitting up.

“I uh… you know I-“

“Might have to drink on that one, huh?” You tease and he rolls his eyes at your words with a laugh, closing the alcohol bottle he was about to open.

“No, no. I um… I use them for personal fun. Yeah, that’s-“

“What the fuck does that mean” You and Sam burst out laughing but your friend shakes her head. “Judge says no. Drink!” Sam hands him the bottle and Colby’s face is now turning a slight red. A tint only you could see because of how close you were.

“I’ve used them for sexual fun” He says just as he’s about to pour the shot, but your friend rolls her eyes and nods that he doesn’t have to drink.

“That was luck” Colby nudges your arm and shrugs, that annoying smirk of his only making you laugh.

“Name two dirty kinks you have” The girl reads and all three of you are wide eyeing the camera. Sam curses under his breath and Colby is still in shock. It was still so early in the game, already?

“Wait, I’m not answering that. I already said one, right?” Sam agrees to Colby but the judge shakes her head. “Just one more then? I already day said one!”

“You go first, Y/N” Sam cuts off his clearly pressured friend and they both turn to you, but your face is an even deeper red then Colby’s now.

“Um… I don’t—I mean it’s been a long time so I don’t really know…”

“Oh come on, Everyone has them” Colby teases and you glare at him, letting out a sigh as you sat back on the couch.

Apart of you was afraid to tell them, because you’d never really been that open with them about sexual preferences. Sam wasn’t the one you were worried about, him and Katrina were perfectly locked in with each other and you knew whatever you said didn’t matter.

But with Colby, there was always this unspoken tension between the two of you. One you tried to ignore but always failed terribly when you’d see him make out with another girl. You were afraid he’d see right through you if you answered the question, and if there was one thing you couldn’t ignore,

It was the way he’d look at you.

“I think… I think choking is attractive, but like not too aggressively, you know?”

“So your submissive?” Colby’s words go through your ear and straight down. He was clearly trying to get to you with that question, and there it was again.

The tension between the two of you.

“Sometimes” You try to cover it up but you can feel his eyes piercing right through you, his smirk showing the small of his pearly white teeth that always made you blush. “What about you then, hmm? Mr. Talk shit” You push his face and the two of them laugh, but Colby is no longer embarrassed to say it.

“I like to be Dominant” He says to the camera and Sam blows air from his mouth, shake his head in disbelief. Colby isn’t looking at you on purpose. Oh god, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You lean back on the couch, scratching your nose to try and hide your burning hot cheeks from everyone’s eyes. It was like he was doing it on purpose. He was so clearly teasing you.

And you wished it wasn’t working, but it’s been so long that it’s impossible for your stomach not to twist into multiple knots.

Or at least that’s the excuse you gave yourself.

After many more questions and many more drinks, the alcohol started to take a toll on all three of you already. You had only had three shots and even the camera was hard to focus on. Sam and Colby’s eyes had been getting red but yours were harder to see because of your eyelashes.

“Who do you think is the most attractive clubhouse member besides Kat” Colby and your own eyes go wide and you both stare at Sam. Obviously he couldn’t answer that, but neither could you, right?

“None! Sorry, gotta drink to that. Can’t answer cause it ain’t true” Sam sasses the camera while opening the bottle. Colby laughs, both of you applauding your friend.

“Yeah, I’m gonna drink to that one as well” Colby reaches down to grab the other bottle from the floor, pouring it into his shot glass. “I can’t answer that, but I do have someone in mind” he cheers to the camera and his words alone make your stomach twist once again. It definitely wasn’t you, but saying something like that… after the other questions..

“What about you, Y/N?” The girl asks as the boys down their own shots. She raises an eyebrow, “might as well give us something here, right?” As much as you wanted to decline and run away embarrassed, you could feel the liquid courage increasing.

The way everyone looked at you, they all knew who it was. You leaned back with a huff, you could feel Colby’s eyes on you the entire time you were stalling, but when you looked at him, his eyes pierced through you.

“I think… I think I’ll drink too” Sam and Colby boo at you when you pour the shot. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t either so that must mean he doesn’t… feel the same, Right?

“I can’t even see the camera anymore, dude” Sam laughs at Colby’s words. Sam has more shots then the two of you so you’d imagine he’d be the one saying it, but of course it was Colby.

Maybe that’s why he was looking at you like that..

Towards the end of the video, all three of you were pretty drunk. Sam was the least, you were in the middle, and Colby… Jesus. Colby was so drunk.

“Fuck, man” Colby lays his head on the end table for just a second, you could tell his head was spinning. You rub his back, his body temperature is very warm. You look over to Sam and nod toward the camera, and Sam immediately understands.

“Maybe we should take a small break?”

“Where are you going?” You ask Sam, watching him put on his jacket and grab his keys. You finished the video about 30 minutes ago and Colby was on the couch watching tv, while you had just changed into night clothes which really were only comfy shorts and a crop top like usual.

“I have to go stay at Kat’s tonight. We’re heading to her parents tomorrow morning” You hum, pouring a glass of water for yourself and one for Colby. You had forgotten Sam was going away for a few days. “Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone” You stop and look at him with slightly furrowed brows, but he’s just raising his eyebrows with a shrug, leaving you with the confusion of his statement.

He doesn’t… he can’t know, right? You weren’t that obvious.

“Water?” Your voice is enough to catch Colby’s attention from the tv. He was watching some random scary movie it looked like but you’d never seen it so you weren’t completely sure. You hand him the water and take a seat next to him, leaving a gap between the two of you. You had thought the tension would be gone by now but it clearly wasn’t, you could only hope it was just your overthinking.

“What’s up with you? You were being weird the whole video” His question makes you somewhat relieved. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it really was all just in your own head—but how were you meant to explain you couldn’t focus because of how badly you wanted him. Even now, he was leaned back on the couch, his hair messy from running his hands through it and his tattoos on full display for you to look at. Jesus, it felt like torture.

Why did you have to get drunk?

“I just didn’t feel good” You shrug, looking over at the tv and tilting the glass of water toward your lips. You can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to give him a real answer but he doesn’t push you. He only takes a sip of his water, turning back to the movie.

“Are you going home tonight?” You glance at the clock, it’s already 11. Should you? You have a room here, you didn’t really need to.

But did he want you to?

“I was planning on staying but if you don’t want me to-“

“I want you to stay” Your stomach twists, with excitement and somewhat nervousness at the same time. He was being direct but he wasn’t even looking at you. You wanted to stay and watch the movie with him, but the more you looked at him, the more the drunken side of you just wanted to kiss him.

You wanted him.

“Come here” You hesitate for a few seconds before placing your drink back on the glass table in front of you, moving to sit closer to the boy. His arm was laid on the back of the couch and he opens the blanket he’d been using to you. He wanted you close.

Your practically curled next to him by the middle of the movie, head laid in the crook of his neck and your legs sitting on top of his own. Not much had been said all movie, but Colby was getting more and more touchy as it went on.

His fingers traced shapes on your bare legs under the blanket, the cold metal of his rings sometimes brushing against your skin. He made it seem so normal, like it was an every day thing the two of you did together.

But this only made you so much hornier.

His scent radiates from his neck, and it was almost as if you wanted to kiss his neck right then and there. It was so alluring—He was so alluring to you.

And he knew it.

“Do you want to tell me why you were really acting weird today?” He asks again, looking down at the tent his hand made under the blanket while he caressed your leg.

You bite your bottom lip, looking at the blanket as well. You could feel the tingling feeling between your legs as his hand touched you farther, as if he had been testing the waters before actually saying anything.

“Colby…” You can’t help but pull your legs even closer together, and that alone is all he needed to tell him how you felt. “Not everything needs an explanation. It’s just… complicated”

“Complicated, huh?” He hums sarcastically, in a knowing form. You bite your lip as you watch him rub his temple, frustration radiating off of him. “You know, For the longest time, I tried to let this whole thing go out of respect for you, Y/N” He mumbled, his voice low and husky with passion. God, he sounded so hot. Even if he was upset, you just couldn’t help yourself. “I always thought it would be you and Sam” He lets out a huffed chuckle, still keeping his eyes on his lap. “But I want it to be me”

What?

No. He isn’t… he doesn’t mean what you think, right? Colby Brock isn’t confessing his feelings for you, right?

“Colby, what’s wrong with you?” His body tenses when you ask that stupid question. What’s wrong with him? Like you didn’t know.

“What’s wrong with me? What about you?” He finally turns his head to look at you, his drunken, sad and very horny eyes staring lasers into yours. “You can’t seriously sit here and believe yourself when you ask me that question” You couldn’t think. You didn’t even move for awhile because of your lack of words or thoughts for that matter. You wanted to give in, but you were also so terrified of if it wasn’t real.

“Colby, I’m not the person you want. Trust me, you will figure that out soon enough” He scoffs as you get off the couch, trying to at least relieve some of the tension between the two of you. Colby was so tired of waiting, but you were just too scared.

“How do you know what I want? You’ve barely spoke to me the past few weeks!” The boy calls after you when your walking away from the couch, his voice only makes you stop. “You’ve been weird for weeks, Y/N. Don’t ask me what’s wrong with me when you can’t even tell me how you feel”

“Colby, I don’t know how I feel!” You turn around with frustration, staring at the back of his head. He was still sat on the couch, and part of you hoped he stayed there—but another part wanted him to go after you. “I haven’t just been distant because of you-“

“That’s such bullshit and you know it” He stands, turning to look at you. You were far too drunk for this. You could feel the unnecessary tears already filling your eyes, you didn’t want to argue with him. “Look me in my eyes and tell me that—then I’ll let it go”

“Can we please just talk about this tomorrow-“

“You know what I think? I think your just scared of feeling weak. Your scared of letting someone in, Y/N. And the past few weeks we’ve been getting closer than before, that’s why your distant now. That’s your biggest weakness” Colby scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the couch and slipping it on with ease. You furrow your eyebrows as he walks toward you, and past you.

You grab his arm, “Colby, your drunk. Don’t go out, Please” he’s avoiding your eyes but you can see the chisel on his jaw, clenching with what you thought had been anger. “I don’t know how to do this, Colby. I… I can’t even bring myself to say the words I want to say to you” He tears his arm away from you, snatching his keys from the countertop. No. You couldn’t let it end like that—not when you have so much to say. “Okay, fine!”

“You want the truth, Colby? For years all I felt for you for you, all in silence because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with Sam and Each other. I watched you with other girls since we were juniors! I couldn’t stand you, but yet I also couldn’t stand to be without you. Everywhere I go, I always want you with me—and when i’d see you with other girls, it would make me feel stupid, like my feelings meant nothing to you even if you didn’t know”

“How was I supposed to tell you that? How was I supposed to tell you that even after everything that’s happened, I still can’t stop loving you!” Your confession slips like words of anger said in an heated argument. Colby still wasn’t looking at you, which only made your heart ache even worse. You just poured your heart out to him—couldn’t he at least look at you?

“When you got put in the hospital during senior year, I was there every fucking second with you! I cried, Colby! I was a mess for days, and Sam was the one who had to juggle the two of us!” You remembered that day like it was yesterday. The day you’d gotten into a huge argument with Sam about your feelings for Colby. Sam always knew of both your feelings, but he didn’t say anything to the other. If you were going to admit, it had to be to each other. “I’m usually so good at hiding how I feel, but I’m getting so tired of it. The Same repeating cycle I just-“

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Y/N. Why didn’t you-“

“Are you serious? After all those talks we had about you not caring for a relationship and not wanting a future with someone? You were practically telling me no! I wanted to tell you but then you started going to parties more and kissing girls and-“

“Y/N”

“It hurt me, Colby. That’s why I didn’t tell you. It would physically hurt my chest to see you kiss another girl after flirting with me for DAYS. You played with my head and I know I played with yours too but-“

“Y/N, I’m-“

“No matter how hard I try or how many guys I find, there’s nothing for me. I can’t… I can’t move past you and it fucking sucks” You hadn’t even realized he moved until you were done talking. He was close now—close enough to hear his breathing if you’d been quiet enough. Your heart shatters with every passing moment that’s goes silent. You knew you couldn’t be the same after this, so you begged in your mind for him to say something.

Only he didn’t say anything, and for a moment you actually thought he’d leave you there alone.

But you two were meant to love each other, Remember?

A silent moan escapes your mouth as he crashes his lips into your own, the sound muffled by his. The kiss is filled with so much passion it could make one’s heart explode if you weren’t too careful, it felt like the two of you had been waiting years to do this.

Which you were.



After the first kiss, the two of you didn’t waste any time. Colby pulled you up, your legs wrapping around him as you continued to make out with the dark haired boy. His large hands cupped your ass, and soon enough you felt your back hit the cold wall. One of your hands were laid on the side of his neck while the other held the back of his hair, tugging on it slightly.

It had only been a few seconds ago you were sitting watching a movie—how in the hell did you both get here so quick?

He carried you to the couch, sitting down so you could straddle his lap instead of holding yourself up against his waist.

His hands release your ass and move up your back, slipping under your shirt to unclip your bra.

Colby smirks against your lips and removes his hand from your shirt, lifting your chin to pull away from the kiss. “Dirty girl” You hum as his lips attach to your neck, his comment making you all the more wet then you already were. You didn’t put a bra on—and Colby seemed to have really liked that you didn’t. “You make such pretty sounds—wish I could’ve heard them sooner”

You can feel the hardness under you, and the more you grind on him, the more you can feel his grip on you tighten. It didn’t hurt—it just turned you on even more.

“Colby, Please” You plead breathlessly. You wanted him to do more then just kiss your neck. You wanted him to take you to his room, to do everything he’d do to someone else. “You don’t have to be gentle with me” you tug his hair gently, meeting his lust filled eyes. You were desperate for him and you didn’t care, you’d waited since junior year to have your way with him—to have him want you.

“I’ll leave marks all over you, Y/N” he says in a slightly warning tone as if he didn’t want to completely destroy you in that moment, but you shake your head, grabbing his hand that slipped to the waistband of your sleeper shorts.

“I just want to feel something” You say in a tone he’d never heard you in before, one that made him want you even worse then before. You slip your hand off his own and place it on his chiseled chest, feeling the crease of his abs all the way down until you reached his belt. You wanted him, you just wanted him to know that. “I want to feel you, Colby. I want you”

“You want me to treat you like everyone else?” You hesitate but nod after a few seconds, slipping off his lap to stand to your feet. He stands in front of you, his height making a clear difference above you. His expression hadn’t changed yet, he was so hard to read. “I won’t do that, Y/N” Before you could say anything, he was already picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist again, crashing his lips back into yours as he made his way to his room.

This man… you didn’t know how to describe the feeling you had when he kissed you, but it was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He was so different from everyone else you’d been with, and you didn’t know why.

You did. Deep down you knew why he made you feel the way he did. Colby was the only guy you truly wanted. Even when you had a boyfriend, you still wanted him instead.

He drops you onto his bed, removing his black wife beater and throwing it to the side, revealing his tattooed body you’ve grown to love looking at. He looked so good in this lighting, and the way his hair fell messy over his forehead—you couldn’t stop your thoughts from running wild.

“I want you, Y/N. I need to know I have all of you—that your only for me” You pick your head up to look at him briefly, fingers playing with the string of his pants. “I won’t treat you like some random slut when your not”

The feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin made you shiver, it made you feel as if this might’ve not been real, maybe a dream after all. But after seeing his face and feeling his hand stop just above your waistline, everything felt at ease.

“I’ve always been yours, Colby Brock” That was all he needed to hear, all he needed to give into you.

And soon enough, here you were again, pinned against the bed while Colby’s hands grip your waist, peppering sweet kisses against your neck. You almost couldn't hold it in.

Your hand slowly found its way to the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair as his wandering hands went right under your shorts. You knew what you were doing with the outfit, and it only made him laugh just thinking about it.

“Please, Colby. I don’t want you to hold back… I want you to give me all of you” you were smirking to yourself, biting your nail like this was somewhat funny to you. Colby didn’t see the appeal, if he was going to fuck you, he was going to ruin you for anyone else.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N” He tells you with a sharp tone, moving to place his hands against the beds cloth, closing you between him. You smirk, looking him up and down once before looking back to his face.

“I’m tired of waiting” The two of you laid there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until He finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he completely explores your body with his hands. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

“Colby” You mumble in a breathless moan. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

“You are so fucking hot, Jesus” He groans against your ear, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin. Your moans are what encourage him the most. Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe god, he’d had that dream many, many times before.

“I’ve waited so long for this” Your breathless under him, gripping his hair between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big—he was so fucking big. It should’ve scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

“I know you have” He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his lips brushing your skin, he wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to. You wanted Colby Brock to let everyone know you were his.

“Nothings stopping me from walking out that door” You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. “I’ll find someone else—someone who hasn’t played with me for years” A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed eyes.

“You’ve waited so long I thought? So long your body even reacts when I look at you” He’s so obviously joking and you love every second of it. Every word of degradation is like music to your ears, like a forbidden kink you didn’t know you had. “This is what you wanted, huh? All those looks you’d give me after I’d make out with randoms—you were so jealous, Sweetheart” Your ears are perking at his every word but your eyes were filled with annoyance. Colby knew now so why would you hide it? Hide your jealousy? “All those times, you could’ve just told me you wanted me and I would’ve given it all to you. Nobody else”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I have you now” His eyes. Oh god, his eyes were so hungry. At first you didn’t know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

His chin sat against your stomach, staring up at you like he had been waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t know what he was planning until his thumb was ghosting around your clothed clit, that same smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you.

He slips your shorts off with ease, along with your black lace underwear, tossing them both to the side.

“Fuck” You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the sheets, not even realizing the boy under you was now fully under you. “S-shit!” Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on him under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn’t. “Fucking hell, Colby” You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn’t want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this boy knew how to use his tongue.

Your hand fell atop his head in hopes to gain some sort of stability but that quickly failed, given how badly he was attacking your clit. His mouth was warm against you and you already knew you’d come soon. It was like he knew your body inside and out.

“I know your not holding back on me, are you?” His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn’t squirm. Colby was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

“I can take it” He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his large, slender fingers inside you. “C-Colby, let me-“

“No” He only uttered one word but it was enough to make you listen like a trained dog, allowing your legs to tremble against his face. You could’ve taken it had you been prepared, but it had been far too long before any guy had done this to you.

“You taste so fucking good, Y/N” His fingers curl against your spongy walls, pushing his tongue against your clit quickly as your moan’s increased. It was so clear you were already on edge, about to let go without it being over five minutes. You find your pride slipping from you in a matter of seconds, begging the man to let you come as your fingers tug his hair. You couldn’t hold on, your legs were far too weak.

“Please, please—Colby, please” His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he’d take his time with you but now? He needed to release all that tension between the two of you from years ago, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you. “G-gonna come..!”

Your mind tried to come up with some sort of reason as to how you got yourself here, How you got your best friend between your legs, and definitely how you were about to fully submit yourself to this boy while your true feelings for each other were unknown. He was thinking the same thing; how did he get so lucky to have you above him?

“Let go for me, Pretty girl” In only seconds, you’re coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. Colby’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

“Colby!” You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn’t take it much longer. You had to push him away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs still, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you. “Holy shit” You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the large man above you, noticing once again how he towers over you.

He bites his lip, admiring your perfect body that had been on almost full display for him. He leans down when you notice how hard he is, lifting your chin with the hand he hadn’t used on you.

You watch through your eyelashes as he sucks his finger clean from your release, biting his lip with a silent chuckle at how lovingly you looked at him. You grab his hand, pulling it closer to you until his other finger was pressed against your lips—to which you copied his action from before, staring into his dark eyes as you did.

“Good girl” He knew you liked that. It was so obvious—the way your legs clench together at his praise. He pulls his hand away and moves it to your neck, pressing a soft but sloppy kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself from him, and God… it was so fucking hot.

Your hand feels his body effortlessly until you reach his aching print, a small smile pulling at your lips against him.

“Let me” You mumble breathlessly, placing your hand over his cock. You could feel how desperate he had been for you, how badly he wanted you in that moment. His hand wraps around your throat firmly, pulling your lips to crash back into his own. He was so rough and impatient—you loved it.

“I need you. Right here, Right now” His voice is deep and makes your skin shiver, the way his hands touch you so delicately but with control. His room was slightly dark, only lit by the strip of LED’s above his bed frame.

“I want to be yours, Colby. Make me yours, please” Your words make his and your own stomach twist into knots, he almost felt bad. He waited so long to make the move, afraid he misread the signs, but he’d never admit that. You allow your hands to travel down his bare abs, feeling every chisel between the pads of your fingertips. When you reach his belt, you’re quick to help him tug his pants off, watching him with the most admiration.

“After we do this, everything will change” He looks at you once more, both of your hands laid on the waistband of his underwear. You lay your free hand on the side of his neck and use the other to touch him lower—right where he wanted you the entire time.

His breath shutters at your bare touch, something he’s wanted for so long was finally right in front of him. You were all he wanted and he prayed you ensue him just as much.

“I love you, Colby. There’s no change in that” You tell him truthfully, watching his eyes soften just before you pulled his face down to kiss his lips. Except this kiss had much more

meaning—the kiss after you’d admit your feelings for one another.

He leans you down, closing you between his large body and his bed, your hand is still pressed into his print, but he’s already slipping his underwear off by the time you can notice.

Fuck. He was going to ruin you.

Your hands cup his face when his tip presses against your entrance, slick coating it by the second. You wanted him for so long, you didn’t care if it hurt at first.

You just wanted him.

From the moment he pushed inside of you, the only feeling you could endure was love. He was slow, gentle to help you get used to his size. The boy peppers kisses to your neck as he pushed further, comforting your slightly pained moans that slip from your lips without warning.

“Mmm” You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren’t prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt… full.

“Oh my god” You moan against his lips, throwing your head back as he strokes you slowly, massaging your thigh. You looked so perfect like this, so pretty in this light. Your body was almost bare for him, and your body was welcoming him with open arms—he couldn’t get enough of you. “Colbs…Colby” one of your hands release his shoulder to grip the sheet underneath you, teeth catching your bottom lip between them.

“Starting to feel good?” He hums while you nod, moving his head down to your neck, placing sloppy kisses against it. His hips find a steady pace at first and gradually work their way up, starting deep, then fast to your skin. “God, you feel so good” one of his hands travels up your body until it reaches the shirt covering your upper half, just wanting to rip in off of you.

“Take it off, baby” Your breathless words are too late when he’s already slipping it off your now fully bare body, completely discarding it to the floor next to him. Jesus, you were so perfect.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N” He presses a kiss to your lips before moving down your body, trailing his wet tongue down until he reached your nipple. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, the curves of your body… you were practically made for him. A shuddered moan escapes your lips when he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, kneading the other with his free hand.

“Mmm!” Between the stokes of his hips and the sensations he brought to your skin, you couldn’t hold much in. You were sure you were being too loud but the two of you didn’t care. It was just you and him, nobody else.

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. “Colby! I can’t… oh my gosh” Your little voice is projecting off the walls of the empty room but you don’t care, only worried about the boy above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks you endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Colby for more. “It’s so good… fuck! You’re so fucking good!”

“Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. You needed me just as much as I needed you” He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn’t look away from him. His big eyes were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

“Gonna come…! Colby, I’m gonna come!” Your a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before. Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

“Come for me. Want you to scream my name so the whole neighborhood knows who’s fucking you this good—so ever man knows your mine” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. “My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

“I’m coming! I’m—oh my god I-“ Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. “Colby…!” You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

“That’s it, Baby. Good girl” His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into your harder, watching your liquid spurt from between the two of you. “My god, Y/N. So fucking good for me”

“Colby… please—Jesus-“

“You can whine all you want, but your body is calling mine for more. You want more” You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn white, scratching along his tanned skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. “Fuck me? I’m only giving you what you want” You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips. Jesus, you were nasty, huh?

He pulls out of you all at once making you whine, not able to protest before he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach and pushing your ass in the air. You giggle, stretching your arms in front of you as you arch your back against him, begging him to forgive you. “I was only joking, Pretty boy” You hum, looking back at his face.

He doesn’t say anything and grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his length that so easily slipped inside of you. Your eyes roll back almost instantly as he bottoms you out, pushing his cock as deep as he could reach inside you. “This is what you wanted? Then fucking take it” He growls against your ear, slamming himself into your harder than he had been before. You couldn’t even think straight, you were already so fucked out you didn’t even remember what it felt like to not be fucked.

“fuck! Right there! Please, Colby—fuck me right there!” Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands gripping the ground under you as he pushed himself against you. “You’re so deep… so fucking good to me, baby” He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your skin. Once again, you could feel his sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

“Nobody can fuck you like I can, Pretty girl. Your mine. You’re all fucking mine, you hear me?” You cry out a yes, the sound of your skin slapping against each others being the only thing that could be heard. “That’s it, just like that, my love” He praises against your ear, holding your hips to press into his.

“Colby, I’m gonna come… oh my god” You whine into the sheet, feeling the pressure building up fast inside you. He’s a grunting mess above you so you knew he was close as well, he was only holding out for you. “Come with me. Please, don’t hold out on me”

The snap of his hips slow down the closer he gets, and now your body is flush against his own, rocking back and forth to his pace with his face buried in your neck.

“I fucking love you, Y/N. My girl, come for me and only me, yeah?” You moan at his words, throwing your head back against his chest as his fingers circle your sensitive clit. you couldn’t hold it anymore, and neither could he. “I’m right behind you”

Drunk sex always felt way too good but usually it was faster and much sweatier, this felt far too different. Even if your hips moved fast against his, it still felt like everything had been in slow motion. The way his hands held your delicate body in his embrace as he thrust his hips up to meet your own, how his lips parted in anticipation to kiss yours, Colby was so hungry for you—his body, was hungry for you.

“Colby… Colby!” His name rolls off your tongue in a beautiful moan. You can feel his slight hesitance but the eyes you give him are enough to tell him exactly what you wanted. You wanted all of him, just as you said.

“Fuck…!” He curses under his breath, your moans filling his ears as you clenched down onto him. He continues to coach you to it, and with one last snap of his hips and circle to your clit, you felt your body release it’s everything onto his. He shushes your loud scream while silencing his own grunts, fingers digging into your hips to pull you close, painting your gummy walls with his white, hot release.

For awhile, All that was heard was your heavy breathing and the sounds of the tv in the other room, and you soon found yourself collapsed next to each other on the bed. Your chests were heaving horribly, and the sweat that drip from your foreheads were now everywhere. You look over at the boy next to you, only to find he had already been looking at you, both of you breathing heavy—lips parted.

It only took a second for one of you to start laughing, and Colby leaned over to kiss you again, this time staying there for the longest he could.

You hum as he pulls away just a tiny bit, still close to your face. Your eyes are shut, relishing in the feeling you had. How do you go on from this? Clearly you two loved each other, but you prayed it wouldn’t be weird…

“Come here” He lays his arm out, pulling your body closer to his so you could lay your head against his chest. The room was hot and smelled of pure sex but neither of you complained. You were just happy.

“Colby…” You mumble after awhile in silence, tracing the tattoo on his chest for the 2nd time. He hums in response, the tips of his fingers brushing through your soft hair. You almost feel bad, as if you’re about to ruin the amazing night you had—but you had to say it. “Where do we go from here..?”

Your voice is low and nervous, so focused on the negative that you couldn’t even see the obvious answer. Colby made it clear what he wanted. He couldn’t go back to normal with you—not after this night.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N. I’ve always wanted that” He pushes your hair away from your face, placing his finger under your chin to lift it. “Please tell me that’s what you want too”

Your eyes soften at his hesitant tone, grabbing the hand that sat under your chin to intertwine your fingers. Of course you wanted that. It was all you ever wanted.

You nod

“Sam is going to be so happy”

Just a little something different 😉. See y’all whenever :))

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

The Long Game

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem!Aviator!Reader

Slow Burn & Smut

Call Sign: Cipher

I knew the stares were coming before I even stepped off the transport van.

The heat clung to me like a second skin as I walked across the tarmac of North Island, boots striking pavement with a rhythm I hoped sounded like confidence. Not nervousness. Not hesitation. Just movement—forward, always forward.

“Cipher,” a voice called out behind me, sharp and warm.

Natasha Trace—Phoenix—grinned as she jogged up beside me. Her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, uniform half-wrinkled, all confidence. She looked exactly the same. Like home, if I believed in that kind of thing anymore.

“Didn’t think they’d actually send you.”

“They almost didn’t.” My voice stayed flat. “But someone in D.C. wants me out of sight. I guess this is as far as they could push me.”

Phoenix gave me a look I knew too well. Soft sympathy, no pity. She knew better.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

We walked together toward the hangar. A wall of voices echoed ahead—laughing, teasing, steel-toed swagger and aviators. The squad.

“Anyone I should be nervous about?” I asked, already bracing for it.

Phoenix glanced at me. “They’ve heard of you. But they don’t know you.”

I didn’t ask what they’d heard. I didn’t have to. The Navy rumor mill worked faster than any news outlet. Cheated on. Lied to. Publicly. A man with a shiny rank and dirt under his fingernails made sure I was humiliated before he left the relationship and the country. I never responded. Not once. Let them guess.

“Great,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

The squad was already gathered in the hangar: familiar callsigns, unfamiliar eyes. I clocked them quickly. Rooster, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback—loud, easy energy. And standing off to the side, reading something on a tablet, was one I hadn’t met. Calm posture. Clean lines. Wireframe glasses. The only one not trying to look at me without looking at me.

Bob Floyd.

Nat nudged me. “Play nice.”

I gave her a dry look.

Hangman was the first to approach, of course. “So you’re Cipher.”

“That’s what the patch says.” I didn’t stop walking.

“Just trying to be friendly,” he said, flashing a grin. “We don’t usually get the Navy’s media darlings around here.”

“Must be my lucky day,” I replied.

A low whistle came from Fanboy, and Rooster elbowed him in the ribs, not bothering to hide his laugh. But I didn’t care about their games. They weren’t new to me.

Phoenix introduced me to the group with as little ceremony as possible. “Cipher’s your new wing. She’s flying solo until pairings reshuffle.”

Rooster offered a nod, more curious than guarded. Payback smiled politely. Fanboy seemed unsure if he was allowed to speak to me. Bob—quiet, thoughtful—just looked up from his tablet and met my eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Just offered a small nod.

No judgment. No awkward grin. No I read everything about you online vibe. Just…presence.

I gave him one back. Equally small. Maybe smaller.

That was all.

I didn’t speak in the locker room.

Not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn’t trust what would come out if I started. The squad filled the space like a living thing—teasing each other, trading sarcastic barbs, familiar in a way I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. It was like watching a party from outside the house, lights warm but unreachable.

I took a bench in the corner. Laid out my gear with muscle memory that felt mechanical. Helmet, gloves, checklist. Precision. Control.

Nat plopped down next to me without asking. “You good?”

“Always.”

She gave me a look. “You know, if you don’t talk to them, they’ll just assume you hate them.”

I shrugged. “They’re not wrong.”

That made her laugh—loud and unguarded. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Pairings?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Mav’s switching it up every run. Random at first. Says it’ll push us to sharpen instincts.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like a headache.”

She grinned. “Sounds like training.”

I didn’t ask who I’d be paired with. I didn’t care, or at least I pretended not to. But when Maverick strode in a few minutes later and started reading off names, I tuned in.

“Phoenix and Fanboy. Hangman and Payback. Cipher… you’re flying with Floyd.”

I barely blinked.

Nat did, though. Her eyes flicked to mine with a quiet curiosity.

Bob Floyd. The guy with the still posture and the eyes that didn’t miss much. I could do worse.

He met me by the Hornet with a nod.

“Cipher.”

“Floyd,” I replied, zipping up my G-suit. “You good back there?”

“I’m always good back there.”

I paused. Looked up at him. No arrogance. No smirk. Just quiet confidence. He meant it.

“Let’s see if that holds,” I said.

He smiled, just barely. “Let’s.”

—

Up in the air, everything felt sharper. Crisper. My hands molded to the stick like they belonged there, instincts kicking in before thought had a chance to catch up. Bob’s voice filtered through my headset, low and steady. Clear. Calm.

“Bandit coming in on your six—three clicks. Banking right.”

“I see him.”

“You’ve got two seconds to counter.”

“I only need one.”

I pulled the maneuver hard and clean, ducked the simulated missile, looped back through the canyon, and caught a second target dead-on with a lock I shouldn’t have had time to make.

Silence.

Then Bob’s voice again, softer now.

“Nice flying.”

“Didn’t do it for praise,” I muttered.

“Didn’t give it for you.”

That caught me off-guard—just enough to make my chest tighten, almost like a laugh. Almost.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t perform. He didn’t pry. He just… showed up. Flew well. Spoke only when needed. And when I pushed, he didn’t push back.

I wasn’t used to that.

—

When we landed, Maverick gave us a glance that meant “interesting.” He didn’t say anything, just made a mark on his clipboard.

Back in the hangar, the others were already pulling off helmets and razzing each other. Rooster gave me a subtle nod across the room—respect. Payback asked Nat how I flew. Hangman was suspiciously quiet.

Bob sat down on the bench beside me without asking.

“You don’t talk much,” he said, not unkindly.

I glanced sideways. “Neither do you.”

“Guess we’ll get along just fine.”

I didn’t respond. But my silence wasn’t rejection—it was something else. Consideration. And maybe he knew that.

Because when he stood up, he didn’t push for more.

“See you on the next run, Cipher.”

He walked away, shoulders relaxed, not waiting for a goodbye.

And for the first time since I’d landed on base, I realized I wasn’t bracing for impact.

I was waiting for something else entirely.

I didn’t plan to go to the Hard Deck.

In fact, I told Nat twice that I wasn’t going. Once while peeling off my flight suit, and again while half-watching her braid her hair back in our shared room. But she looked at me with that stubborn gleam in her eye — the same one she wore before every high-G maneuver — and said, “You’re not getting out of this, Cipher. You need to let them see you.”

“I’m not interested in being seen.”

“Well, they already see you,” she said. “Might as well be in control of what they’re looking at.”

Annoying. Smart. Phoenix.

I wore black. Clean lines. Minimal makeup. Something about dressing simply gave me control, let me decide what I was showing instead of what they’d try to dig up.

The bar was warm and humming with energy when we arrived. Pool balls cracking. Country music on a loop. Pilots gathered in loose groups — some I recognized, others I’d heard stories about. I followed Nat’s lead toward the squad, who’d claimed the high tables near the jukebox.

Hangman spotted me first.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, grin wide and bright like a billboard. “Didn’t think you were the social type, Cipher.”

“I’m not.”

“Then this must be a Phoenix miracle.”

“I’m very persuasive,” Nat said, smirking as she handed me a beer.

Bob was already there, quietly nursing his own bottle. He looked up as I approached but didn’t say anything. Just nodded — a small gesture, like punctuation at the end of a sentence.

Rooster pulled me into a round of darts with Payback and Fanboy. I went along, mostly to keep Hangman from drawing attention to me. But I kept catching glimpses — eyes that lingered just a second longer, conversations that quieted when I walked by. I’d lived through it before. The whispers. The That’s her… of it all.

Public humiliation has a way of making you infamous.

Especially when your Navy pilot boyfriend cheats on you with a junior officer, denies it, then accuses you of instability when the story breaks. The headlines were a storm I hadn’t asked for — just tried to survive.

I didn’t wear it on my skin, but the wind still howled behind me.

“Cipher!” Fanboy called, grinning. “Come sing!”

“No.”

“Come on! You look like you could use a little Springsteen therapy!”

“I’d rather get shot down in a simulator.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the group. Even Bob chuckled under his breath.

But Nat was already dragging me by the wrist toward the karaoke mic.

“You owe me for dragging you here,” she said, victorious.

I could’ve fought harder. Could’ve pulled back. But something about the way Bob looked at me — calm, not amused but… interested — made me step up. The music started, some vintage rock number I half-knew, and I sang. I didn’t belt it. I didn’t shake the walls. But I sang like I meant it.

People watched.

Bob did, too.

Not like the others — not dissecting me or sizing me up. Just watching, like he wanted to understand something I hadn’t said yet.

And for one second, I felt exposed.

When the song ended, I handed the mic off and stepped outside. I needed air. Space. Quiet.

The night was cooler than I expected, the salt breeze cutting through the heat of the bar. I leaned against the deck railing, trying to remember how to breathe without having to think about it.

Footsteps behind me.

Not Nat’s.

“You didn’t want to come,” Bob said.

I didn’t answer.

“But you did.”

He came to stand beside me, close but not too close. Just enough to make his presence feel intentional.

“I don’t like being on display,” I said quietly.

“I noticed.”

There was no pressure to say more. No prying. Just a pause, open and easy.

“I hate that they know,” I said before I could stop myself.

“About him?”

My jaw tensed.

“People talk,” he said gently. “Doesn’t mean they know anything.”

I glanced at him. “You don’t.”

He met my eyes. “No. But I listen.”

Something in my chest wavered.

He didn’t offer pity. He didn’t promise to fix anything. He just stood there, quiet and steady beside me, like air traffic control during a storm.

“Thank you,” I said before I could swallow it back.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

The beach was Nat’s idea.

Of course it was.

—

She told me it was team bonding. “Tradition,” she said, grinning like the devil. “Mandatory,” she added, when I gave her the look.

I tried to make excuses — had reports to finish, laundry to do, a thousand ways to avoid being half-buried in sand with people who still didn’t know if they were supposed to talk about the headlines or pretend they didn’t exist.

But Nat was relentless. And honestly? I was too tired to keep saying no.

So I showed up.

Black tank top, aviators, hair pulled back in a braid. No one asked me to play at first. They weren’t sure how close to stand, how much was too much. It was easier that way. I kept to the shade with a beer, watching as the others launched into a game of dogfight football like their lives depended on it.

Rooster dove into the sand, yelling something about a fumble that didn’t exist. Hangman and Payback were locked in some macho shoving match. Nat zigzagged between them like a bullet. And Bob…

Bob was steady. Patient. He didn’t move like the others — no showboating, no shouting. He ran clean routes, made smart passes. He played like someone who understood rhythm, not noise.

He caught my eye once — not because I was trying to look, but because I already was.

He offered a smile. Brief. Real.

I nodded. Sipped my beer.

Eventually, Nat called for me. “Cipher! You’re in.”

I could’ve said no. Probably should have.

But something pulled at me — not the desire to play, not the camaraderie I still wasn’t sure I wanted. Just the fact that for a minute, I forgot to remember what I’d lost. For a minute, I remembered I used to be someone else.

I stepped in.

Within five minutes, I had a touchdown.

Within ten, I was trash-talking Hangman so fast he missed a block.

By the time Nat shouted, “Last play! Winner takes bragging rights for the month,” I was breathless and wild and didn’t recognize the laugh that came out of me.

The ball snapped. I cut left. Bob tracked me — saw it before I even moved.

We locked eyes across the sand, and I knew.

The ball flew. I jumped.

Caught it mid-air. Fell hard into the sand.

Someone — Payback, I think — dove after me too late and landed in a heap next to me. “Damn, Cipher,” he groaned. “You don’t miss.”

I sat up, brushing sand from my arms.

Bob stood over me, just a little winded. “You okay?”

I nodded. “That a real pass or were you showing off?”

He smiled again — that small, crooked half-smile that didn’t ask for anything. “Wouldn’t dare show off with you on the field.”

Nat whooped. Rooster clapped me on the back. Hangman grumbled about bad calls. Everyone buzzed around us, the way teams do when the game’s done and the adrenaline still lingers.

But I stayed sitting for a second longer.

Watching Bob.

He’d already turned back to the group, offering someone else a water bottle. But he’d looked at me like I was here. Not the Cipher from the headlines. Not the girl who got cheated on and ghosted by command when she tried to report it. Just… me.

And that?

That was dangerous.

Because I knew what happened when you let yourself get seen.

-

The hangar was quiet, save for the soft hum of a floor fan and the occasional creak of cooling metal. Most of the squad had cleared out hours ago, eager for drinks, beach plans, or anything that didn’t involve more forms.

I stayed behind.

Old habit — staying late, cleaning up details no one cared about but me. Maybe I liked the quiet. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to go home to a dark room and my own thoughts.

Bob was still here too.

I hadn’t noticed at first. He moved like silence — neat, efficient, unobtrusive. But when I looked up from my logbook, there he was, at the desk across from mine, flipping through reports with a red pen and a furrowed brow.

“You always stay this late?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced up, a little startled, then offered a small shrug. “Only when the numbers don’t add up.”

I raised a brow. “You’re a perfectionist.”

Bob paused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Just… rare.”

Silence stretched between us, not awkward, not charged. Just… easy. A kind of stillness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then my stomach growled. Loudly.

Bob looked up again, startled — then smiled, just barely. “Guess we forgot to eat.”

I blinked. “You didn’t eat either?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t notice.”

That made two of us.

A beat passed. Then he pulled out his phone. “I can order something. You like Chinese?”

I hesitated.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve made up an excuse, pretended I had something frozen waiting for me back home.

But instead I nodded. “Yeah. Chinese works.”

—

We sat on the hangar floor, takeout containers between us, eating lo mein with plastic forks like two rookies back from their first flight.

“This feels illegal,” I muttered around a bite. “Eating greasy noodles in a government hangar.”

Bob grinned. “Don’t tell Maverick.”

A laugh caught in my throat before I could stop it.

He looked at me like he’d just won something.

After a while, the conversation quieted. Not uncomfortable — just… heavier. The kind of silence where everything starts to feel a little more real. A little closer.

“You don’t talk much,” I said quietly, still not looking at him.

Bob shrugged. “Neither do you.”

Touché.

“But,” he added after a beat, “I notice things.”

I glanced at him. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“You read the same three lines of that maintenance log five times,” he said softly. “Your left shoulder tenses when someone brings up press. You pretend you’re not watching people, but you’re tracking exits. And you never look at your phone unless someone else is looking.”

I froze.

His voice didn’t change. “That doesn’t scare me.”

I looked away. “It should.”

And that was when he kissed me.

Soft. Careful. Like a question. Like I could still say no.

I didn’t.

At least not right away.

His hand found the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek. The warmth of him — the steadiness — made something in me ache.

But just as my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, just as his breath hitched against mine—

I pulled back.

Fast. Like I’d been burned.

“I—” I stood abruptly, putting space between us. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Bob blinked, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” I said too quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But you did. You made me feel safe. You made me forget.

I forced a smile, already backing away. “I should go.”

He nodded, still sitting on the floor, still looking like he wanted to reach for me but knew better.

“Cipher—”

“Don’t,” I said, voice low. “Just… don’t.”

And I left.

Not because I didn’t want it.

Because I did.

But want had never been safe.

And I was done mistaking kindness for promises.

-

It had been months since I transferred in. Months of settling into this team. Months of drills and missions and inside jokes I somehow earned my way into. I had a seat at the table now — someone always saved me a spot. I sparred with Rooster, laughed with Payback, threw bar peanuts at Hangman. Phoenix still had my six.

But only Bob ever saw everything I didn’t say.

We never talked about it. The almosts. The whens and should we’s that hung like smoke between us. A kiss after late paperwork. A hug that lasted too long in the dark outside the Hard Deck. His hand brushing mine during flight checks.

We never let it go further. Not because we didn’t want to.

Because I couldn’t.

And he never asked me to explain why.

That’s how I knew it was real.

Now we were here — stranded in a half-frozen cabin, grounded and waiting out a blizzard that swallowed the world whole. 

“I keep things locked up,” I said again, quieter.

Bob looked at me like he could see the whole storm playing out behind my eyes. He didn’t press. Didn’t pry. Just passed me a thermal mug of weak black coffee and sat closer, the blanket tugged tighter around both of us.

The fire popped. My fingers were numb even with gloves. And his thigh was pressed to mine so solidly it felt like an anchor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, surprising both of us.

“For what?” he asked.

“For letting it go this far and… still keeping you at arm’s length.”

Bob’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered behind his eyes — something soft and steady.

“You don’t owe me anything, Cipher,” he said. “But if you want me to stop, you need to say so.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned in, my heart pounding in my ears. I pressed my mouth to his, the kiss slow and deliberate, like I was finally giving in to something I’d been fighting for far too long. It was nothing like the stolen kisses we’d shared before—no rushed moments in hallways, no hiding in the shadows. This one was deep, intentional, like everything I hadn’t let myself want was finally surfacing.

Bob kissed me back, his hands moving to my jaw, steady and reverent, like he was afraid I’d shatter if he held me too tightly. But I didn’t want gentle. I wanted him, all of him, and I shifted closer, until I was almost in his lap, the blanket forgotten.

His lips moved to my neck, his breath hot against my chilled skin. One hand ghosted beneath the hem of my shirt, his touch light but insistent, like he was mapping the contours of my body for the first time. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his touch set my nerves on fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his words a low rumble that sent a thrill through me. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, and he took the invitation, his lips trailing kisses along my collarbone. His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of my breast, and I gasped, my body arching into his touch.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

I closed my eyes, my heart racing. “I want you to take your time,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I want you to make me feel it.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, like he needed to see the truth in them. “I will,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll make you feel everything.”

His hands moved slower then, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of me. He unbuttoned my shirt, his fingers trembling slightly, and I helped him slide it off my shoulders, leaving me in just my bra. The cabin was cold, but his touch was fire, his palms warm as they glided over my skin.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his gaze lingering on my body, his admiration undeniable. “So fucking perfect.”

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I reached for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head, revealing the lean, muscular frame beneath. His skin was warm, his chest dusted with fine hair, and I ran my hands over him, tracing the lines of his abs, the ridges of his shoulders.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, my voice shaky.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and pulled me closer, his lips finding mine again. This time, the kiss was hungry, desperate, like we’d both been starving for this moment. His hands moved to my back, unhooking my bra with practiced ease, and I let it fall to the floor, my breath hitching as his gaze raked over me.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

I felt a surge of desire at his words, my confidence growing under his gaze. I reached for the waistband of his pants, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and pulled down the zipper. 

He hissed as my hand slid inside, wrapping around his erection, and I smirked, a wicked thrill running through me.

“You like that?” I asked, my voice low and teasing.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch. “You have no idea.”

I stroked him slowly, savoring the way his body reacted to my touch, the way his breath quickened, his muscles tensing. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered, echoing his earlier words. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine, his expression raw with need. “I want you to take control,” he said, his voice steady despite the desire burning in his eyes. “I want you to make me yours.”

The words sent a jolt of power through me, and I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him. His hands moved to my hips, guiding me onto his lap, and I straddled him, our bodies pressing together, his hardness nestled against my core.

“You feel so good,” I murmured, grinding down on him, my breath catching at the friction.

“Not as good as you’re about to feel,” he promised, his hands moving to my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, making me arch into his touch.

I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure washed over me. “Bob, please—”

“Soon,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But first, I want to taste you.”

Before I could respond, he stood, lifting me with him, and carried me to the couch, laying me down gently. He knelt between my legs, his gaze intense as he looked at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said again, his voice filled with awe. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me completely bare. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was so full of desire and reverence that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re perfect,�� he murmured, his lips brushing my inner thigh, sending shivers through me. “So fucking perfect.”

He kissed his way up my legs, his touch feather-light, his breath hot against my skin. When he reached my core, he paused, his gaze meeting mine, like he was asking for permission.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice desperate. “I need you.”

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue tracing patterns that made me gasp and squirm. He was gentle at first, teasing, his tongue flicking against my clit, his fingers parting my folds. But then he grew bolder, his tongue plunging inside me, his fingers joining in, thrusting in and out in a rhythm that had me moaning his name.

“Bob—oh God, Bob—”

“You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, his voice muffled but filled with delight. “So sweet. So fucking sweet.”

His words sent a rush of pleasure through me, and I arched into his touch, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close. He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling, his fingers pumping faster, and I felt the coil of tension inside me tighten, the pleasure building to an unbearable pitch.

“Bob, I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice a low growl. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words were all it took. My body shook as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my cries echoing in the small cabin. Bob drank it all in, his mouth never stopping, his fingers relentless, until I was a trembling mess beneath him.

When I finally came down, he kissed his way back up my body, his lips brushing mine, his eyes shining with satisfaction. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. “Your turn,” I said, reaching for his pants, my fingers trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and let me pull them down, his erection springing free. I took him in my hand, stroking him slowly, my thumb brushing the tip, and he groaned, his head falling back.

“Fuck, Cipher,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to kill me.”

I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him, my mouth moving in time with my hand. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me close, his hips thrusting slightly into my touch.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to feel you around me.”

I smiled against his lips. “Then take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom, and rolled it on with shaking hands. Then he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze meeting mine, like he needed my permission one last time.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. “Now.”

He thrust into me, slow and steady, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. I gasped at the fullness, at the way he stretched me, filled me completely. He was thick, his length pressing deep, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low groan. “So tight. So perfect.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the way my body felt around his. I met his rhythm, my hips moving with his, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The fire crackled, the blizzard raged outside, but in that moment, there was only him, only us.

“Bob—” I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built inside me again.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding. “Look at me when you come.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and saw the raw desire burning in them. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

“Cipher—fuck—I’m close—”

“Come with me,” I urged, my voice shaky. “Let go.”

His eyes closed, his face contorting with pleasure as he thrust deep one last time, his body stiffening as he came, his name on my lips. I followed him over the edge, my body shaking as my orgasm crashed into me, my cries mingling with his.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged, the world outside forgotten. Then Bob pulled out, disposing of the condom, and gathered me into his arms, holding me close as we caught our breath.

“That was—” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips soft against mine.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “It was everything.”

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. The blizzard raged on outside, but inside the cabin, we had found our own warmth, our own sanctuary. And as I snuggled into his embrace

—

The first thing I notice is the warmth.

The second is him.

Bob’s arm is slung over my waist, his chest pressed to my back, breathing slow and steady like he’s actually relaxed for once. I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but his hand tightens on my side, pulling me back in like I belong there.

I let myself stay, just for a moment. Eyes closed, heart soft, memorizing the feeling of him—his warmth, the faint scratch of stubble on my neck, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm.

Then I feel it—his breath against my ear, the faintest huff of a laugh.

“You’re awake,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “Didn’t want to move.”

I turn over to face him, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at. His hair’s sticking up in every direction, glasses askew, and he’s wearing that old, soft Top Gun t-shirt that’s probably seen more sunrises than either of us.

He brushes a hand gently across my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s his job.

“So, uh…” He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. “Are we… uh, are we a thing now?”

I blink at him, caught off guard.

“A thing?” I echo, voice soft.

His cheeks flush pink, but he holds my gaze, eyes wide and hopeful. “I mean… I’ve kinda wanted to be a thing since, I dunno… the first time you called me ‘Glasses’ in front of the whole team.”

A laugh bursts out of me—a real one, bright and unfiltered.

“That was a joke!”

“Was it, though?” he grins, that crooked, Bob grin that makes my heart stumble in my chest.

I look at him—really look at him—and suddenly, I know.

“I think I want to be,” I say quietly, the words feeling heavy and light all at once. “I want this. I want you.”

His eyes go soft, impossibly tender, and he leans in, brushing a kiss to my forehead—gentle, reverent, like I’m something fragile he’s been waiting years to hold.

And I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

We sit like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet, our fingers tangled together. The storm still rages outside, but in here, it’s warm—safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Eventually, Bob untangles himself and shuffles over to the tiny stove, fiddling with the ancient coffee pot like it might bite him.

“God, this stuff is terrible,” he mutters when the coffee finally sputters out, a thin, watery excuse for caffeine.

I take a sip anyway, wincing. “It’s… something.”

He laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.

Then the radio crackles.

“Rescue team’s ten minutes out. You two decent in there?”

Phoenix’s voice, clear as day.

Bob practically chokes on his coffee, coughing and wide-eyed, while I scramble to grab the radio.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Just cold, tired, and ready to get the hell out of here.”

I glance at Bob, and he gives me a little grin—quiet, shy, like we’re sharing a secret.

Because we are.

When the team finally bursts in, Bob and I act like nothing happened. Just two aviators, weathering a storm.

But as we step outside into the snow, his hand brushes mine—and this time, I let my fingers curl into his. Just for a second.

Long enough for him to know I’m not going anywhere.

And I know—neither is he.

—

Back at base, everything’s supposed to go back to normal. Briefings, drills, checklists, the whole routine like clockwork.

But nothing feels normal. Not when every time I glance up, I catch Bob already looking at me—soft, quiet, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something no one else does.

Like he knows me.

And maybe the others don’t notice at first. But it starts adding up.

Like how I’ll get up from the ready room table to grab a coffee or “go to the bathroom,” and not five minutes later, Bob magically has to stretch his legs, too.

“Oh, uh, I’ll—uh—head that way too, I guess,” he’ll mumble, cheeks pink.

The first time, no one blinks. The second time, Rooster’s eyebrow quirks up. The third time, Phoenix catches my eye and smirks like she knows.

And the worst part? We’re so bad at playing it cool.

Phoenix crosses her arms, smirking, and leans in toward Rooster, whispering loudly, “I give it a week before they start wearing matching sweaters.”

“Two days,” Fanboy counters.

“Guys,” Bob protests, flustered, but it’s half-hearted at best. His eyes find mine across the room, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot.

It only gets worse.

Inside jokes start cropping up—mostly between Bob and me. Like the time Mav asks a question during a briefing, and Bob murmurs, “I think we need… cabin coffee for this.”

I choke on my drink, snorting so hard I nearly spill it all over my notes.

Everyone turns to stare.

Bob just sits there, all wide-eyed and innocent, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he just did.

And the way he looks at me after—soft, secret, like he’s holding onto a memory only we share—makes my chest ache in the best way.

the other night at the Hard Deck.

Everyone’s packed in, the bar loud with music and laughter, darts flying, bottles clinking. I’m at the bar, waiting for my drink, when Bob slips in beside me—close, but not too close.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soft enough that no one else hears.

“Hey, Bob,” I say back, fighting a grin.

It’s too easy, the way we fall into our own little world. He nudges my shoulder, and I nudge him back. We share a look when Payback tries to tell some long, winding story about a failed maneuver, and Bob’s eyes sparkle like he’s holding back a laugh just for me.

Then there’s the dart game.

Phoenix lines up her shot, eyebrow cocked. “Loser buys the next round.”

Bob steps up behind me and murmurs, “Aim a little left.”

I smirk. “Since when are you my coach, Floyd?”

He leans in—too close, definitely not regulation—and whispers, “Since the cabin.”

I nearly drop the dart.

Phoenix catches it. “What’s that about a cabin?”

Bob’s ears go bright red, and I’m this close to smacking him with the dartboard.

-

It was supposed to be a quick moment.

Just five minutes, tucked away in a quiet corner of the hangar after everyone had cleared out. Bob had been rambling about flight patterns, his hands waving in the air, glasses slipping down his nose, and I couldn’t help it—I had to kiss him.

And now here we are.

His back’s against the cold metal wall, his hands warm on my hips, his mouth soft and everywhere on mine.

It’s sweet and slow, like we’ve got all the time in the world, like the whole world shrank down to just this: me, Bob, and the sound of our ragged breathing echoing in the quiet.

I break away, forehead pressed to his, catching my breath.

“I like this,” Bob whispers, his voice so soft it feels like a secret.

“Me too,” I murmur, smiling against his lips, and then I’m pulling him in for another kiss—

And that’s when we hear it.

A loud, dramatic throat-clear.

I freeze. Bob’s eyes go wide, lips still parted, breath caught halfway between oh no and please let it be someone else.

Slowly—so slowly—we turn toward the noise.

And there, standing with his arms crossed and a very smug grin, is Hangman.

“Now, what do we have here?” he drawls, drawing out the words like he’s savoring every single syllable.

Bob practically jumps away from me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I swipe at my lips, cheeks burning, and try to come up with literally anyexplanation.

“Uh—” I start.

“Nope!” Hangman cuts in, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t even try. I know exactly what I saw.”

Bob’s face is a shade of red I didn’t even know was humanly possible.

“Hangman,” I say, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. “You can’tsay anything.”

He smirks, like he’s won the lottery. “Oh, I can say something. In fact, I’m dying to.”

Bob looks like he might actually pass out.

“Jake, please,” Bob says, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

“Please, Hangman,” I add, and I’m pretty sure my voice is borderline begging.

He taps a finger against his chin, pretending to think about it. “Hmm… what’s it worth to you?”

I narrow my eyes. “You would pull this.”

“Absolutely,” he grins, teeth blinding. “I mean, this is gold. ‘Glasses’ and ‘Cipher’ sneaking around like a couple of teenagers? The team’s gonna eat this up.”

“Jake.” Bob’s voice is soft, but desperate.

Hangman glances at him, then back at me, and for a second—just a second—he looks like he’s almost feeling generous.

I cross my arms, glaring. “Jake Seresin, if you say one word about this, I will personally make sure your locker mysteriously ‘loses’ all of your flight gear before your next sortie.”

Bob, bless him, tries a different tactic. “Look, we’re not trying to… make a thing out of it. Just… let us figure it out first, okay?”

Hangman’s smirk softens, just a little.

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now. But don’t think for a second I won’t collect on this later.”

Bob lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

I give Jake a long, warning stare. “Not a word.”

He holds up his hands, all innocent-like. “Scout’s honor.”

As he walks away, whistling like he’s the hero of the story, Bob groans softly, burying his face in his hands.

“Well,” I mutter, “that was… not ideal.”

Bob peeks at me through his fingers, and somehow, we both start laughing, breathless and a little hysterical.

Because of course it was Hangman. And of course we’re not gonna live this down.

But for now… at least our secret’s safe.

Sort of.

—

The sun’s low in the sky, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the Hard Deck parking lot where someone—probably Fanboy—decided it would be a good idea to haul out a grill and have an impromptu squad barbecue.

There’s laughter, music, the smell of burgers and smoke in the air.

And absolutely zero chance we’re going to make it through this without someone saying something.

Bob and I showed up separately. Obviously.

But it took exactly five minutes for us to somehow end up standing way too close by the drinks cooler, and exactly ten for Hangman to start hovering.

He’s leaning against the bar with a beer in hand, watching us like a hawk—grinning, of course. Just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Bob’s trying to play it cool. He’s got his glasses on, hair a little messy from the wind, and he’s nodding along to whatever Rooster’s saying about football, but his hand is gripping his soda can way too tightly.

And every few seconds, he glances at me like he can’t help it. Like he’s trying to check in, make sure I’m okay, like we’re still tethered even in the middle of a crowd.

I’m just as bad. I keep catching myself smiling for no reason when he looks at me, and the way my stomach flips every time his arm brushes mine is so obvious, it’s a miracle no one’s called us out yet.

But then Hangman clears his throat.

Loudly.

“Man,” he says, voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music, “this barbecue’s almost as hot as the sparks flying over by the cooler.”

Everyone turns.

Bob practically jumps. I freeze, a solo cup halfway to my lips, and glare daggers at Jake, who’s grinning like he just won the lottery.

Rooster’s eyebrows shoot up. Phoenix glances between us, her eyes narrowing like she’s connecting the dots.

Bob’s cheeks flush a deep, tell-tale red, and I can feel my own face heating up.

“We’re—” Bob starts, voice cracking slightly, “uh, we’re just… standing here.”

“Sure you are, Glasses,” Hangman smirks, stretching out the nickname in that infuriatingly smug drawl.

Bob sputters. I glare.

“Jake,” I warn, stepping in, voice low, “don’t.”

He just grins wider. “Relax, Cipher. I’m not saying anything… just making an observation.”

Phoenix folds her arms, watching us with a smirk, clearly enjoying the absolute trainwreck unfolding in front of her.

Bob’s about to combust. I can see it in the way he’s fidgeting, hands tugging at the hem of his t-shirt like it might save him.

So I do the only thing I can do—grab his hand under the table, squeeze gently, and shoot him a look that says we’ll survive this.

Because we will.

Eventually, the team drifts back into their conversations, the moment fading.

But Hangman?

He catches my eye, tips an imaginary hat, and mouths “You owe me”before turning away.

Bob lets out a long breath, eyes wide, and mutters, “We’re so bad at this.”

“Yeah,” I whisper back, smiling despite myself. “But I kinda like it.”

And when his fingers brush mine again, soft and quick, like a promise, I know we’ll figure it out.

Even if the whole squad knows exactly what’s going on.

-

The Hard Deck is loud tonight—music thumping, laughter bouncing off the walls, and the squad scattered across the bar like it’s home base.

I’m standing by the pool table, pretending to watch Rooster line up a shot, but really, I’m hyper-aware of Bob across the room, sitting with Hangman and Fanboy, a beer in one hand and that quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks now—stolen glances, “accidental” run-ins, lingering touches when no one’s looking.

And somehow, we’ve kept it under wraps.

Or… we had.

Because that’s when I hear it.

Bob, in his sweet, earnest voice, casually saying:

“Yeah, I think Cipher and I are just gonna grab dinner after this.”

Time freezes.

My stomach drops.

Hangman—sitting right across from Bob—slowly turns his head, a grin spreading across his face like a slow-motion car crash.

Rooster chokes on his beer, coughing so hard he has to thump his chest. Phoenix spins around from the dartboard, eyebrows halfway to the ceiling.

Bob?

Absolutely oblivious.

He’s still talking, going on about how there’s this new Italian place we’ve been wanting to try, and I can see it happening in real-time—the moment he realizes—

His voice falters.

His cheeks flush bright pink.

His eyes dart around the room like a deer in headlights, finally catching the looks being thrown his way.

“Oh,” he mumbles, blinking rapidly. “Uh. I mean… just, uh, as friends—”

“Bob.” Hangman’s voice is silk and poison, smug dripping from every syllable. “You sure about that, buddy?”

Bob opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He’s completely flustered.

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. It just bubbles up, unstoppable, and when Bob’s eyes snap to mine, mortified, I just shake my head, grinning.

“Smooth, Floyd,” I tease, crossing my arms. “Really subtle.”

Payback lets out a howl of laughter, slapping the table like he’s at a comedy show. “I knew it! Knew it, knew it!”

Bob groans, covering his face with both hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters behind his palms.

I reach over, gently tugging his hand down. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He peeks at me, cheeks still bright red, and whispers, “I’m so bad at this.”

“You’re adorable,” I whisper back, grinning so wide it hurts.

Hangman leans in, grinning ear to ear. “So… dinner date, huh?”

Bob looks at me, eyes soft and a little resigned, and then—finally—he shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, but with this quiet certainty that makes my heart flip. “Cipher and I are a thing.”

And just like that, the whole bar erupts.

Cheers, laughter, Phoenix throwing a coaster at us and yelling, “Finally!” Rooster shaking his head with a grin like he’d bet money on it months ago.

Bob looks at me, like he’s a little overwhelmed but also relieved, and I just smile, squeezing his hand under the table.

Because yeah. The secret’s out.

And it feels really, really good.

—

It’s late afternoon when I show up at Bob’s apartment, arms full of snacks, the weight of the week falling off my shoulders as soon as I step through the door.

Bob’s already in his cozy mode—sweatpants, a hoodie, glasses slightly askew as he fiddles with the TV settings, trying to make sure the entireMarvel collection is queued up for the marathon.

“Hey,” he says when he sees me, voice soft, eyes lighting up like I just made his day.

I grin, kicking off my shoes and dropping the snacks on the counter. “Hey yourself, Glasses.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, cheeks already turning pink, and I feel that familiar pull in my stomach—the one that makes it way too easy to get lost in those sweet blue eyes.

“I brought the essentials,” I say, holding up a giant bag of popcorn. “Also, drinks, candy, and…” I dig through the bag, “a whole lot of regret for the sheer amount of time we’re about to waste watching every single Marvel movie.”

Bob laughs again, softer this time, and I catch the way his gaze lingers on me a little too long.

The apartment smells like popcorn already—he’s got a batch going in the kitchen, and the windows are cracked open to let in the cool evening air. It feels comfortable, like we’ve done this a thousand times.

And maybe that’s why it happens.

I’m helping him set up the blankets on the couch—fluffing pillows, arguing over the best blanket placement—when I glance up and find him watching me.

Really watching me.

His mouth is slightly parted, eyes soft behind his glasses, like he’s thinkingsomething he hasn’t dared to say out loud yet.

My breath catches.

“What?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He swallows, shaking his head like he shouldn’t say it, but then—

“I just…” His voice is quiet, warm, gentle, like a secret he’s been keeping close to his chest. “I really like this.”

“Movie night?” I tease, even though my heart is racing.

He gives me a look—one that says, You know that’s not what I mean—and takes a small step closer, enough that I feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitches just a little when I don’t move away.

I swear the world tilts.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Bob reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and let his fingers linger on my cheek. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and electric.

“Bob,” I breathed, his name feeling like a promise on my tongue.

He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and kissed me. It was soft at first, a brush of lips that made my knees go weak. But then my hands were in his hair, and his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The kiss grew hungry, desperate—like we’d been waiting too long and couldn’t wait anymore.

His breath was ragged against my skin as his lips trailed down to my jaw, my neck. I tugged at his hoodie, pulling him even closer, my fingers digging into the fabric as if to anchor him to me. His hands slid down my back, pressing me against him, and I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with need. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I didn’t respond with words, just tightened my grip on his hair and pulled him back up for another kiss. This time, it was fierce, our lips moving against each other with an urgency that left no doubt about how we felt.

Bob broke away first, his chest heaving as he looked at me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “Bedroom,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my ears as he took my hand and led me down the hallway. The bedroom was dimly lit, the evening light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Bob didn’t waste any time, pressing me against the door and kissing me again, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every curve.

I moaned into the kiss, my hands sliding under his hoodie to trace the muscles of his back. He was strong, his body lean and athletic, and I reveled in the feel of him against me. His lips moved down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The praise sent a shiver down my spine, but it was the edge in his voice—a hint of something darker, more primal—that made my knees weaken. Bob wasn’t just gentle; he was hungry, and I loved it.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he hovered above me. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Do you understand?”

I smirked, arching my back slightly. “Prove it.”

The challenge in my tone seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Oh, I will,” he growled, before slamming his lips back down on mine.

The kiss was rough now, his tongue demanding entrance as he kissed me like he was claiming me. I moaned, my body arching against his as I surrendered to the intensity of the moment. His free hand slid down my body, pulling up my shirt to expose my bra. He traced the lace with his fingers before hooking his thumbs under the straps and sliding it off, his eyes devouring me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Your tits are perfect.”

I felt a flush of heat at his words, the mix of praise and degradation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. Bob leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his tongue swirling as his hand squeezed my other breast. I cried out, my head tossing back into the pillow as I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him closer.

“Bob, please,” I panted, my body thrumming with need.

He smirked against my skin, his breath hot as he moved lower, kissing down my stomach. His hands slid down my jeans, unbuttoning them slowly, deliberately, as he looked up at me with a mix of hunger and reverence. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against me through the fabric of my panties. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, my hips lifting off the bed as he hooked his fingers into my jeans and panties, sliding them down my legs. “God, yes.”

Bob’s eyes locked on me, his expression intense as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my core. 

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, my voice steady despite the desperation she felt. “Now.”

He smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of my lips before slipping inside me. I was slick, my body ready for him, and he groaned at the feel of my heat enveloping his hand. 

“So fucking wet,” he repeated, his thumb pressing against my clit as he slid a second finger inside me. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”

I moaned, my head falling back into the pillow as I squirmed beneath his touch. “Bob, please. I need you.”

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my thigh. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, even as my body betrayed me with another desperate moan. “Just get on with it.”

Bob’s smirk widened as he stood, shedding his hoodie and sweatpants to reveal his toned body. His glasses were askew, his hair tousled, and he looked utterly undone—and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He reached for his belt, his eyes never leaving mine as he undid his jeans and pushed them down, revealing his erection, thick and hard.

My breath caught at the sight, my body aching for him. He stepped out of his jeans, kicking them aside before reaching for me again, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself between my legs.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I nodded, my heart pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against my entrance. “Fuck me, Bob.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside me, his eyes closing as he let out a ragged groan. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his hips snapping forward as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, filling me completely as he set a relentless pace.

I met his rhythm, my body moving with his as I lost myself in the sensation. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers leaving bruises as he pounded into my, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“You like this, don’t you?” he panted, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You like being fucked by me.”

“Yes,” I moaned, my head tossing back as I felt her orgasm building. “God, yes.”

Bob leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words pushed me over the edge. my body tightened around him as I cried out, my orgasm ripping through me like a wave, my nails digging into his back as I rode it out. Bob groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his hips snapping forward one last time before he stilled, his body trembling as he spilled himself inside me.

For a moment, we were both silent, our breaths ragged as we clung to each other. Then, just as Bob pulled out and collapsed beside me, the doorbell rang.

It’s way too quiet when the doorbell rings.

Bob and I freeze, tangled up in each other in the middle of his bed, both of us flushed and breathless, the remains of the movie night snacks scattered across the dresser.

I stare at the ceiling, panting, my shirt somewhere on the floor, and Bob’s hair is sticking up in all directions, his glasses crooked, lips definitely kiss-bruised.

And then—

Ding-dong!

“Shit.”

Bob launches himself off the bed like the doorbell is a grenade.

I can’t stop laughing, the sound bubbling up in my chest as I pull the blankets around me and watch him scramble to find his sweatpants. He’s halfway hopping into them when the team starts knocking like they’re about to bust the door down.

“Bob!” Rooster calls, voice way too loud. “You alive in there, man?”

Bob fumbles with his hoodie, cheeks flushed red, muttering under his breath as he bolts to the front door.

The second it opens—

Hangman leans in, smirking so hard it looks like his face might crack. “Well, well, if it isn’t Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd.”

Phoenix chokes on her soda, Rooster wheezes, and Payback is dying in the back, barely holding it together.

Bob’s face goes nuclear.

“I—what? No, I—uh, we were just—” he stammers, his hands flailing.

“Oh, we know,” Hangman says, voice dripping with amusement as he pushes his way inside, holding up the pizza box like a trophy. “Just wasn’t expecting to interrupt.”

Bob looks absolutely mortified, rubbing the back of his neck as the rest of the team files in, smirking and laughing and throwing him looks.

I give it five whole minutes before I walk out of Bob’s room—wearing his hoodie, hair still a mess, cheeks burning.

The second I appear, the team erupts.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us!” Rooster crows, clapping his hands together.

“Confirmed,” Hangman grins, gesturing between us. “Bobby ‘I-Just-Got-Lucky’ Floyd and his very happy girlfriend.”

Phoenix is leaning back in the armchair, arms crossed, giving me the most knowing smirk like, you’re not even trying to hide it anymore.

Bob groans into his hands, and I can’t help it—I’m grinning.

“Alright, alright,” I say, throwing my hands up as I grab a slice of pizza from the box. “You guys gonna keep teasing us, or are we watching Iron Man?”

Hangman just laughs, leaning back on the couch, but the glint in his eyes says this definitely isn’t the last we’ll hear about it.

Bob catches my gaze across the room, cheeks still pink, but when I smile at him, he smiles back—soft, like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

And honestly?

Neither can I.

—

The apartment is quiet chaos in the morning light.

Half the team is still asleep, sprawled across Bob’s couch and floor in a mess of blankets and empty soda cans. Rooster’s got an arm flung over his eyes, snoring like a freight train. Fanboy is curled up in an armchair, drooling slightly, and Phoenix is half-awake, mumbling to herself as she tries to shove Hangman’s very annoying leg off her lap.

Hangman, of course, is the only one who looks remotely alive—sitting at the counter in a t-shirt and sweatpants, sipping a mug of coffee like he owns the place, smirking at me and Bob every time we brush past each other in the kitchen.

“Morning, lovebirds,” he drawls, lifting his mug in a lazy salute.

Bob flushes a shade of pink I didn’t know existed, fumbling with the carton of eggs, and I can’t help but grin.

“Careful, Bagman,” I say, tilting my head as I flip a pancake, “or you’ll be on dishes duty.”

Hangman’s smirk widens like I’ve just issued a challenge.

“Oh, I know what you two were up to last night,” he says, voice just loud enough to make Bob nearly drop the spatula. “Our boy Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd here—looking awfully smug this morning, aren’t you?”

Bob goes red—cherry red—and I nudge him with my hip, biting back a laugh as I plate the pancakes.

“You’re such an ass, Jake,” I mutter, but I’m grinning, because honestly? It feels good—to have this, to be teased like this, to have a place.

Bob glances at me, his eyes soft and warm behind his glasses, and for a second, it’s like the room melts away—just him and me, quiet and ours.

By the time everyone’s finally up, we’re gathered around the table, plates piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. The coffee’s lukewarm and the pancakes are a little burned at the edges, but no one cares.

The team is loud—joking, laughing, stealing food off each other’s plates. Payback’s recounting a mission gone sideways, Rooster’s half-listeningwhile arguing with Fanboy about who would win in a fight: Iron Man or Captain America.

And I’m just… watching.

Watching Bob refill Phoenix’s coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Watching Hangman tease Bob and get a pancake thrown at him for it. Watching Bob’s hand rest on my knee under the table, his thumb brushing back and forth like he can’t not touch me.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

And it hits me, sudden and deep and a little overwhelming:

I don’t have to carry the weight of my past anymore.

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to my ex, not to the Navy, not even to myself.

This right here—Bob’s soft smile, the way he looks at me like I’m everything, the sound of the team laughing like family around the table—this is what matters.

I’m not the girl who got left behind.

I’m Cipher.

And I’m happy.

I catch Bob’s gaze, and he must see it—something in my face, in the way I’m holding myself, because he smiles at me like I just lit up his whole world.

And maybe I did.

[corpseontheloose]

Balcony ── .✦

summary: in which Nam-gyu comes home from work at a late hour just to find you on the balcony

Pairing: Nam-gyu x f!reader in a domestic life

A/N: this is so rushed and also I wrote this while being half asleep and semi conscious at 2 in the morning?? Might be messy

Story notes: just bcz it might be confusing for some, Nam-gyu works the night shifts while reader works during the day. So he sleeps during the day and wakes up during evening. Vice-versa with the reader. When Nam-gyu gets home, he gets at least 1 hour to cuddle with the reader before he falls asleep and wakes up without her. And when he's about to leave for work, that's the hour reader comes home usually.

Warnings: sweet Nam-gyu, domestic life, 18+ due to cigarettes/smoking, mention of alcohol

You and Nam-gyu were close to each other, almost too close. It 'wow-ed' people at how dependent he was of you. And vice-versa, of course.

They knew him, not perfectly, but enough to create different rumors about him. It's not something new, it's been happening ever since he started working at the club.

They'd claim they saw you in the grocery shop with him, in the park, at the café. And they were damn right. He's almost every day at every hour with you. When he's not working, that is. He just loves doing activities with you, and knowing you're close to him, even if that meant a simple thing, like a grocery shop stop during the night when you were both hungry and craving something sweet... Like pocky sticks for example (👀)

Half of the city knew him from his job, and how he put up a completely different personality and face when he was working. It was kind of a shock when they saw him calm, kind and soft towards you during a shopping day where you looked through the shelves, counting the grams of whatever you wanted to buy

He held the shopping basket for you, towering over you and calmly waiting until you decided if that's what you needed to get or not. He loved watching you.

"Do you think we need two or three sugar packs? I don't want the cake to be too sweet, but I can't risk making it too bland either"

He was so mesmerized. His eyes never left you whenever you were too focused on getting what you need.

"I think two is enough. Three would probably make it too sweet and...I have a second desert right here, already. I wouldn't want my blood sugar level to explode"

However, Nam-gyu was a completely different person when it came to his workplace.

He was more focused on being there, in the moment. Especially because he was surrounded by loud music and a thousand number of drinks. He had to hype up the place, make sure everyone was having fun and, when it came to serious problems, he needed to sort things out with a straight face and no sympathy.

A lot of people viewed him as the heart of the party. He was loud, insane even. No one left the club without a drop of alcohol in them.

He usually worked until late. Which wasn't as bad as it sounded since he got the whole day to rest until another night came by.

During his free days, he likes to take up on the opportunity of getting to cuddle with you all night and sometimes even keeping you awake to catch up with what's been happening with the two of you lately.

Tonight was unexpected though.

Keys rattled softly as they slightly hit the door while he tried to unlock it.

He usually found you curled up in your shared bed, holding onto the pillow or having the blanket over your head as you slept peacefully, waiting for your clock to hit the alarm ring and wake you up for work.

Why would tonight be different?

Maybe because you got a day off, and maybe because you missed your boyfriend so heavily that it made you stay up late. Because the moment he inserted those keys in the keyhole, your head snapped over your shoulder

He was surprised to see you in the living room's balcony, scattered on the floor with a half smoked cigarette in between your fingers

You were both silent. It's like the entire scene would break apart if you talked. Instead, you just inhaled each other's presence from a few feet apart until Nam-gyu decided to go and change

You knew he was going to come back, join you and sit with you until sunrise. You knew your boyfriend too well.

A few minutes passed and suddenly, with heavy steps from across the bedroom to your living room, Nam-gyu rushed to take his spot in front of you on the balcony

He looked at you, silently. And smiled.

"couldn't sleep?" he asks in a low tone, just above a whisper

You looked into his eyes before taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing the smoke lazily before sharing your cig with him.

"Had a day off. Couldn't really think of anything else other than you and... Others..." you whispered back.

"What's others?"

He took a drag before passing it to you once again.

You shrugged quickly, taking another drag of the nicotine

"Work. 'S been stressful lately. And we barely see each other anymore...Wanted to get things off my mind for a bit"

He understands it completely. Whenever he woke up to an empty bed, pits in the stomach formed and twisted as he got ready for his own shift, knowing yours is already almost over

You rarely ran into each other as he was about to leave for work; you'd be arriving at home.

"It's like we're ghosts. We live together, but almost never see eye to eye"

You chuckled at your own bittersweet words, finishing the cigarette. You took a quick glimpse in your pack, realising that was your last.

Nam-gyu noticed the empty pack as well, before sliding his own slowly to you, his eyes never leaving you.

You slightly smiled before opening it and taking another stick

He knew yours weren't as strong as his, he had heavy taste, while yours were modest, sometimes elegant and exquisite. Whenever you got the chance, you'd also buy minty ones. A bit more expensive, but something that lingers it's taste on your tongue that drove Nam-gyu crazy.

"I miss my boyfriend" you whispered, taking a long drag, trying to burn down the sentiments along with it.

He looked at you, almost guilty. He knew it wasn't his fault, that you weren't accusing him. It was your schedules that mixed so painfully unwell together

"I, do too, miss you..." he replied, lighting up his own cig.

And then silence fell over them again. But not the kind of silence that makes you go crazy, makes you suffocate and gasp for air, clawing for oxygen as you feel the life sucked up from you. It was the kind that settled in peacefully. It was mutual understanding and longing

Surprisingly, the streets of Korea were radically empty, considering it was almost time for people to wake up and leave for work.

And Nam-gyu looked at you, wishing, praying for more minutes with you like this before you decided it was time for bed.

It was so beautiful. How the dark blue sky showed off clear, with no cloud, as the moon went down slowly, making some space for the sun to rise.

How the colors blended together so perfectly that the yellows and oranges strike in your hair,as the last sparks of the moon shined in his eyes.

It made sense.

"Come here.." he whispered as he stood up and crouched down just for a moment, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to bed as you held onto his neck.

You loved the feeling of him holding you like this. It made you desire the day you're going to get married, the day he'll carry you like this in front of everyone, showing off his undying love for you.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tiny heels and future plans

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, soft!rafe, dad!rafe, toddler daughter, p in v sex, unprotected sex, talk of pregnancy, wedding (not readers)

words: 1.5k

“you always look gorgeous.” rafe says, a slight grin on his face giving away that he's not fully conveying his true feelings.

“but…”

“but that dress is ridiculous.” rafe lets his laughter out, watching you frown at first before joining him in chuckling as you look in the mirror.

“it really is horrible, huh.”

“well, it's your aunt's taste so…” rafe shrugs. you twirl back towards rafe.

“tacky.” you both say at the same time.

“i hope her idea for the flower girl dress is better than this.” rafe looks to the door, knowing jada will be getting up from her nap soon. 

“actually, i told her that we would take care of it.” you watch as rafe smile grows, realizing your daughter wouldn’t be stuck in a neon yellow dress covered in ruffles like her mama is.

“thank god.” rafe sighs. “and about you changing after the ceremony?”

“i was not able to convince her of that… yet.” you tsk. when your aunt invited you to be a part of her wedding, you didn’t even assume for a second it would be understated simply because its her fourth. she’s never been one to shy away from a big event, but being the richest woman in the outer banks means she gets away with her taste being pastels and colorful patterns.

“maybe you could tell her you still breastfeed jada sometimes and need a dress with a better top for it.” rafe shrugs. he doesn’t care what you wear, but he knows you would prefer not to be stuck in that so called dress for the entire evening.

“that’s actually not a terrible idea.” you admit before turning around, rafes hands coming to unlace the corset back as you let the dress fall to the floor. no point in trying to avoid wrinkles when there’s a million layers of ruffles.

“mmm, now that’s much better.” rafe smirks, eyes moving up and down your body, now only covered in your undergarments

you both move with a measured quickness, predicting each others next movements with fluidity until you both end up on the bed, lips attached together.

rafe is just about to reach behind your back to unclip your bra when you hear little footsteps coming down the hallway.

“the one time i need her to stay napping for longer…” rafe groans, rolling off the bed to intercept your toddler so you can get dressed in peace.

“this is what you get for always wanting her to get up earlier because you miss her.” you laugh as rafe sends a look to you before closing the door.

--

“i saw you shed a tear.” you say, causing rafe to whip around.

“jesus, how could i not.” he shakes his head, taking jada from your arms now that pictures with the wedding party were finished.

“are you hungry baby girl?” rafe asks.

“yes!” jada’s eyes light up. “wedding cake!”

you made the mistake of telling jada there would be cake at the wedding when going over what the day would look like, but you have been able to use it to your advantage, like promising her a whole slice if she walks straight down the aisle without stopping or crying.

“we have to wait for auntie tilly to cut the cake first, then we can eat.” you explain. jada looks to rafe with big eyes, her bottom lip pouting out.

“jada, don’t look at me like that.” rafe groans. jada has learned that she can get her way anytime she pouts to her dad.

“i think theres french fries inside, why don’t we have those first, hm?” you offer jada, who is happy enough to accept the compromise for now.

“so, yellow bridesmaid dress all night?” rafe asks as you head into the venue, your aunt continuing to take pictures with her new husband, only 30 some odd years her junior.

“yes, rafe.” you sigh. “i have not been able to convince her since you last asked me half an hour ago.” “well, you look pretty either way.” rafe turns jada in his arms so he can look at her, holding her close to his chest as a group of people walk by. “doesn’t mommy look pretty?”

you both know you should let her walk more, but she’s just so little you’re afraid of her getting trampled by wedding guests, and the fact that she’s not stable in her little heels doesn’t help your anxiety. “yes!” jada squeals her answer before cuddling into rafes neck.

--

“poor sleepy girl.” you laugh, one hand rubbing up and down rafes back while the other strokes jadas.

“i told her this was the last song we were dancing to.” rafe doesn’t bother to whisper, no amount of noise could keep jadas droopy eyes from closing. the party would still be going on for a few more hours, but as the final note of the song plays, you make your way quickly out of the venue.

“im gonna sit in back with her.” you tell rafe as you load jada into the carseat, knowing that if she happens to wake up on the ride home she won’t be happy about leaving the wedding.

“sounds like a plan.” rafe agrees, rounding the car to go to the drivers seat, wanting to get both of you home as quickly as possible.

after you’ve gotten back and unloaded the car (or at least most of it, some can always wait for morning), rafe takes jada to change her into her pajamas while you manage to get yourself out of the mess of ruffles.

“ah, my timing is perfect yet again.” rafe smirks as he walks into the room, just having taken off your bra.

“and definitely no baby to interrupt us this time.” you smile as you flop back onto the bed. with as big of a day as jada had, it’s even likely that she sleeps in tomorrow. 

rafe sets the baby monitor down on the night table anyways, always a little more cautious than you.

“can i say something corny?” you ask as rafe lays down next to you, his eyes moving from your exposed breasts up to your eyes.

“of course.”

“im so glad that when we got married i knew it would just be us. like- i just mean watching my aunt marry and divorce, marry and divorce. knowing that we would just be together.”

“i completely know what you mean.” rafe agrees. when he first told you he loved you, he also admitted you were the first person he's ever loved, that he had to do years of work on himself to get to the point where he even could.

you know about his past only through what he's told you and the little bit of gossip you've heard around the island, having not lived in the outer banks before moving in with your aunt in your early 20s.

“and now look at us.” you smile. “we have jada, this house, and a beautiful family.”

“a beautiful family that…” rafe bats his eyelashes at you, and that's how you know this is something he really wants. “i would love to expand.”

“i-” you can't help but laugh, a big smile stretching over your cheeks. “i already stopped taking my birth control. i was going to talk to you about it tonight.”

rafe can't help but surge forward and kiss you. he should have known that you were already feeling the same, already together in your future plans.

you pull rafe so he's hovering over top of you, your arms moving up and down his toned shoulders and biceps.

“let's get started right now.” you smile up at him.

--

“please.” you whine out, back arching off the bed. “please, rafe, i need it.”

his thumb circles teasingly around your clit again, never hitting it quite right to send you over the edge. 

“mmm, i guess you should cum first.” rafe pumps his hips again, knowing he's not too far from spilling into you himself.

“considering you work so hard growing out little ones.” its funny that rafe has already started to refer to your multiple children, despite jadas sibling being just a thought for now.

“yeah.” you nod. “let me cum.”

rafe finally relents, thumb not just touching your clit but rubbing into you, pulling and pushing on your flesh as your nerves light up, feeling the sensation throughout your whole body as your back aches and you let out a cry, wishing you could keep your eyes open to watch as rafe jaw falls open as he cums into you, but they squeeze shut, stars showing on your eyelids.

“fuck, fuck- y/n.” rafe grunts before whimpering your name, collapsing onto the bed but not before taking you with him, keeping your hips flushed together so you're now laying on top of his, softening cock still inside of you.

“can't pull out yet.” rafe just says, squeezing your ass as you nuzzle into his chest, knowing his mission from now until you're showing is to make sure there's another addition to your family soon.

[bananami]

The One Where Bakugo is Different With You (and your friends kinda called it but are too dumb to fully connect the dots) katsuki x fem!reader

No one understands what it is you did to make him like you. You insist that you didn't do anything. They don't believe you.

Bakugo isn't nice to anyone. He tolerates people. Sometimes. In fact, it's not like he's even nice to you. But he is different. And everyone has noticed.

"That's her seat, get up." He snaps at Mineta as the boy sits down next to him.

"What, she has to sit next to you?"

"Get. Up."

Mineta doesn't hesitate.

You've known him as long as the rest of them, but for some reason he seems softer toward you. Kirishima is the first to bring it up to him.

"Do you like her or something?"

"She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Denki is your friend, you don't like him."

"Hey!" Denki yells from the other side of the couch.

Bakugo just grits his teeth and doesn't respond.

Even when riffing with him, he takes what you say differently than he does with everyone else.

"What if I just cracked this egg over your head?"

He looks down at you. "I'd be impressed that you could reach."

"That hot head would probably fry it." Sero laughs at his own joke.

Sparks began to form from the explosion hero's good hand. "I will blast you out of this building!"

And forget about anyone else asking him for anything. He doesn't really do favors, not unless he's hounded to do them. But for you?

"I'm hungry."

Bakugo stands from the couch and holds out his hand to pull you up with him. "Let's go try the new sushi place down the block."

Or

"I have an interview with the talkshow next week but they want me there at like six in the morning."

He doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's opening his calendar to schedule himself off of work that day. "I'll stay by your place and drive you in the morning."

OR

A bag falls into your lap and the blonde plops down next to you. "They were on sale."

You open the bag to find your favorite candies, letting out an excited squeal. "They've been out the last two weeks."

"I told the guy to call me when he got a box in."

Denki tries to reach his hand out for a box but it's slapped away by the larger blonde. "Touch it or her and I will personally cut off that hand."

And then there's Kirishima's personal favorite interactions to watch. Something Bakugo has done since living in the dorms at UA, through your roommate years where all of you split an apartment to save up money.

Bakugo would get up to leave the room and stop in the doorway, staring directly at you. "Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Check your phone."

You would look down at your phone and laugh every time. "Are you embarrassed to say it in front of everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up and get over here!"

Everyone could read between the lines, and his blush on his cheeks.

But you'd never officially dated. Anytime any of the friend group would ask about it, you'd both deny it and change the subject. Kirishima and Mina would narrow their eyes in suspicion at you and one another.

"You just treat her different than everyone else." Kiri would point out.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do, especially not Bakugo." Mina would accuse.

The answers were always the same.

"Mind your own shitty business." Bakugo would snap.

"You all just look too much into things. He can be nice at times." You would always insist.

It would take all the way up until a random work party Bakugo's agency was holding for the truth to come out. For Denki to walk in on the two of you in the bathroom-

"Practically devouring each other! It was disgusting!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. His arms rested around the back of the couch with you tucked close into his side. "See this is why we kept it a secret for so many years, you're all being so dramatic about it."

"Years?!" Mina screamed. "How many years has this been a thing?"

You tried to avoid all eye contact with her.

"Since high school." Bakugo replied with ease.

"Since high school?!" Your friends gaped.

"When we were all living in the dorms?" Denki asked.

"Used to meet up on the old training grounds to make out."

"The apartment we all shared?" Kirishima narrowed his eyes.

"Snuck into each other's rooms like every single night, can't believe you guys never caught us then."

"When we all were interning at the same agencies?" Sero threw out there.

"Bribed the scheduling team to put the two of us on the same routes."

"Ok wait, but you guys told us you weren't and you used to talk about the different people you would go on dates with right in front of each other- oh my fucking god." Mina facepalmed.

Bakugo laughed maniacally as you tried to hold yours in.

"So you were talking about each other? Every single time?"

"Every. Single. Time."

Mina sighed. "This is actually insane, I can't believe you never said anything."

"I mean it's not like we should be that surprised, besides," Kirishima chimed in, "it's not like they're secretly engaged to be married or anything, right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit. "Please tell me you two aren't engaged."

Bakugo blinks a few times before responding. "Ok, we're not engaged."

"Bakugo!"

"Did you think I was just really nice to her all the time for no reason?"

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fem reader, soft dom!Logan, good ol’ face sittin’, sloppy oral (m receiving), swearing, use of pet names - babydoll, sweetheart, pretty girl - teeth rottingly sweet fluff, emotional(?) sex, mild angst, i think thats it but if there’s any more pls lmk!

Read pt.1 here

Summary: part 2 is finally here! I’ll be honest i think the majority of it is smut, but if you’re not interested in reading that, you can stop at the point where you and Logan drive home from the restaurant :) <3 this is probably the most detailed nsfw thing i’ve ever written so it’s a lil’ longer than what i’d usually write for smut but I really wanted to deliver on this one.

Taglist: @deardo11 @pastelpinkflowerlife @joyfulpeanutsalad @jonesem11 @carollinnasic @likeficsinthewnd @mrs-ephemeral 

Word Count: 9.5K

divider credit here and here

It had been about a month since the whole ordeal with Logan - the exchanging of fake rings, sweet nicknames and kissing in the driveway - and to everyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed.

You’d still taunt each other during training, bicker over the small things and butt heads on almost everything, but it was all accompanied by stolen kisses in empty hallways, nights on the roof spent stargazing and small, sweet moments in between. You were going to come out with it - tell the team what had been going on behind closed doors - but truthfully, you were both fearful of the possible outcomes. What if this didn’t work out? What, you’d go back to hating each other - for real this time? So you kept it hushed, intending to give the new ‘relationship’ - a word neither of you used, yet - a sort of trial run. Neither of you admitted it aloud but you knew this way, if it really wasn’t meant to be, it could save you the embarrassment of admitting you were both wrong.

As the days went on, though, it became harder for either of you to keep up the act and even more difficult to keep your secret. You came close to being caught more often, having to stutter out an excuse each time. Jean and Ororo still knew what was going on - having been the ones to greet you in the hall when you’d gotten back from that dinner party - but gave you their word that it would stay a secret. The former of the two even feigned surprise when Scott mentioned he thought he saw you nearly kiss Logan in the kitchen, insisting he must've been seeing things.

You’d been washing some dishes and handing them off to him to dry and put away, both of you alone in the kitchen after dinner. 

“Hey, do you wanna come up to my room in a little bit? Maybe watch a movie?” he offered in a low voice, standing so close that your arms touched.

Neither of you had actually had the chance to be alone like that yet and the idea made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

“Hm - If I didn’t know any better, Logan,” you chuckled, “I’d think you have some ulterior motive.”

“And If I did?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon,” he cooed, “what do you think?”

You were looking up at him, your noses inches apart as he leaned down further. One of his hands came to rest on your lower back.

“Hey, guys, have you seen my - “

Scott’s voice echoed through the kitchen and you both jumped, Logan trying to put distance between you and nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck and you kept your eyes glued to the dishes in the sink.

“Uh,” Scott tilted his head, “have you guys…seen my phone?”

“Nope,” Logan was quick to reply, drying and putting away dishes now like it was his job.

“Um, no - sorry,” you shook your head.

“Hm…okay,” Scott mumbled, clearly suspicious of whatever it was he’d just seen. You both exchanged a look of panic when he left the room.

“That was close,” you huffed, returning to the task at hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and he’s probably the last one we want to find out - Summers is a blabber mouth.”

You knew exactly what he meant. If you told Scott anything, he couldn’t keep it to himself. One time Jean had tried to plan a surprise party for your birthday and you already knew about it before she could even pick the decorations.

Jean and Ororo had thankfully kept their word, though. It was damn near torture for them to keep from shouting the truth aloud every time you got into your usual spats. The sly jokes, however, were another story.

“Will you two just kiss already?” Jean had blurted when you were pelting each other with beanbags during an outdoor game of cornhole. 

Ororo wasn’t any better. 

She was sitting next to you at dinner one night, Logan across from you. Everyone was chatting about their days or telling stories and she volunteered you to share.

“Anything new happening with you? You seem extra happy lately,” she was grinning.

Your eyes darted to Logan and then back to her, taking a deep inhale.

“Uh, nothin’ - nothin’ new,” you swallowed, "just happy.”

Logan was smiling to himself, his gaze focused on his dinner.

After everyone had finished dinner and vanished off to their rooms, he stopped you at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hey,” he nervously scanned the hallway while gnawing on his bottom lip, “can you meet me in the garden out back in fifteen minutes? I wanna show you somethin’.”

“Sure,” you nodded, “but the ‘something’ better not be beef jerky and a picnic blanket - which, by the way, is not a date.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, a contradiction to the smile tugging at his lips.

“That was one damn time - you’re still mad about that?”

“Eh - not really, but I am gonna mention it in every argument we will ever have,” you joked.

“Oh, shut up, ya’ brat.”

 You giggled and he beamed at the sound, already undeniably smitten with you. He’d never been so sure of any other feeling in his life. Your serene voice, your perfect hair, the smell of your perfume, the way you walked, the way you laughed and smiled - it was all things he’d taken notice of before but chose to bury within himself, terrified of whatever it was that had given you so much power over him. 

Set on trying to impress you, he’d gone around the garden that morning and picked a couple flowers out of each different plant he saw. He felt a little ridiculous - his six foot frame and two hundred pound body towering over a bed of tulips and daffodils - but he reminded himself this was for you; to see that smile on your face that could bring him to his knees. He had fallen for you and he fell fast. He didn’t know when he’d truly realized it - maybe during one of your midnight conversations or during one of the movie nights when you made yourself comfortable under his arm - but it was a feeling so intense that he’d never experienced anything like it before. He’d never had that ache in his chest, the pain of wanting someone so badly that it physically hurts; the twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of losing you, the way the thump of his heartbeat became so much louder and faster when he caught even a glimpse of you. Weeks ago, he probably would’ve made fun of the poor sap who was acting just as he was - like a lovesick dog on your leash - but he found himself finally starting to embrace the idea that there was someone for him in the way there was for Jean and Scott or Marie and Bobby. Maybe it wasn’t all permanent - nothing ever was - but whatever connection he had developed with you was one of the only things that he thought of first thing in the morning and right before he went to bed at night.

After what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life, you made your way outside and to the well kept garden. You admired every variation of flower in bloom while you walked, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the garden in the moonlight. You planted yourself in the middle of the extensive displays of flora, nervously rocking back and forth on your heels. You scanned the landscape and that’s when you spotted him. 

Logan was making his way towards you and even through the darkness, you could see the bright arrangement of flowers held in his hands. Your heart felt like it swelled so much with adoration that it was going to burst. He’d done this for you, went out and handpicked every flower. Receiving so much affection from him was unusual, in a good way. Recently, he’d absentmindedly begun holding your hand in his at times, talking away while his fingers intertwined with yours like it was second nature. He’d play with your hair, kiss your cheek, embrace you from behind, even pull you onto his lap so you could nuzzle into his chest. Even when you weren’t alone, he was having trouble keeping himself off of you. He’d place a guiding hand on the small of your back or let his touch linger when your fingers brushed up against each other - small things, almost unnoticeable. It was a stark contrast to his behavior weeks before and you couldn’t have been happier. 

“These are for you,” Logan held the bouquet in front of you, pointing at some of the bulbs, “a couple of ‘em might be a little bent - I may have accidentally yanked ‘em out of the ground with more force than I needed to.”

You were beaming, your hands on your cheeks in excitement and surprise.  You delicately took the arrangement of flowers from him, admiring the beautiful ribbon that kept them together. Jean had helped with that, of course.

“Oh, Logan,” you pouted, “these are beautiful!”

“I wanted to give you somethin’ nice, y’know - after being such an asshole for so long,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

You knitted your eyebrows, “you didn’t have to, you know.”

He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively, “c’mon, none of that, princess. You deserve ‘em.”

Your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest whenever he’d call you sweet names. He’d called you princess before, sure, but only to tease you. The way he said it now was affectionate, as if to say you really were a princess in his eyes. You were head over heels for him already but you held your tongue, fearful that it was far too soon to admit something like that. The last thing you wanted to do was drive him away and lose the only relationship you’d had in years that made you absolutely lovesick to the point of losing sleep.

“I wanted to, uh - I wanted to tell you something, too,” he began, resting his hands on your waist. He seemed a little nervous with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“So, tell me,” you smiled up at him. You’d be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous yourself, picking up on his hesitation.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, standing up straight and keeping his eyes trained on yours.

“I love you.”

You only blinked in response, lips parted in surprise.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t - “

“I love you - I love you, too.”

It was like letting go after holding your breath for so long, a sense of relief that couldn’t compare to anything else.

A wide grin crept onto his face, one he couldn’t hold back even if he tried. Your expression mirrored his - complete adoration for one another.

He was staring down at you the same way he had during dinner that night you first kissed. You’d wondered since then what it was, what made his pupils dilate when his eyes focused on yours or why he would tuck his lip between his teeth. You knew now that it was love.

“It’s gonna be even harder now to keep this - us - a secret,” he mumbled in a low voice. He brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He cupped your cheek after, unable to keep his hands off you.

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “we could tell them? Tell everyone, I mean.”

“Do you think you’re ready? I mean - not that I'm not ready, but I don't want you to feel rushed into anything.”

Your knees could’ve buckled right then and there at how truly sweet he was with you. You took his words into consideration and had a realization.

“We haven’t even really figured out what we are yet. What would we tell them?”

He nodded solemnly, grazing his thumb over your cheekbone, “Yeah, you’re right.”

You hoped this would be it - this would be the moment he finally told you that you were his girlfriend, you were something - but he gave a small smile and dropped his hand from your face.

“It’s getting late, we should get back before anyone notices we’re gone.”

You simply nodded, clearing your throat to replace the exasperated sigh you were about to let out.

You followed him on the way back, mind racing for the entirety of the short walk and drowning out anything Logan was saying. You wondered if he’d ever ask you that one question at all. Maybe he’d said he loved you to keep you hanging on, wrapped around his finger. Maybe it was meant to be casual and you’d misunderstood. 

But there was a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You’d fallen asleep on his chest more times than you could count, held hands at any moment you could and he did just tell you he loved you. So, maybe he did mean it.

As you snuck down the hallway to your bedroom with the arrangement of flowers, you wondered how long you’d have to keep this a secret.

Unbeknownst to you, it wouldn't be much longer.

It all came to a head when the team decided to go out to dinner together, settling on some chain restaurant. You’d coincidentally ended up next to Logan in the large booth, the both of you on the very end of the table. You were all reading from the menus and Marie piped up from across the table.

“Honey, do you wanna switch seats?”

She was talking to you. You didn't look up from the laminated paper in your hands, responding automatically without a second thought.

“Nah, I'm fine.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked at Bobby, who only shrugged. You two never sat next to each other, usually bickering so intensely that you’d be asked to shut up or leave the table. 

The unusual interaction was soon forgotten when your drinks were brought over, the waitress placing them in front of each of you. She was pretty and her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Logan being on the very end made him the closest in proximity to her and you being so close meant that you could hear her hushed voice when she leaned down before she walked away.

“And here, this is for you.”

She slid a napkin onto the table, your eyes automatically drawn to the movement. There was a clear phone number written in ink, her name scribbled underneath next to a smiley face.

Everyone at the table had noticed the interaction and waited for Logan to speak after she walked away. Instead, they watched in curiosity as he silently slid the napkin under his drink, the ink bleeding immediately from the condensation on the outside of his glass.

“Okay, what's up with you?” Scott questioned from across the table.

Logan raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know, what's up with you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marie chimed in then, leaning forward with her elbows on the table to interrogate him, “you always take girls’ numbers when they give ‘em to you. Why not hers?”

He shrugged, “just not interested.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Watch the language, kid.”

“Whatever, you’re so full of it!”

You pretended to be uninterested in the conversation, folding your napkin into unrecognizable shapes. 

“You know what? I think you might be in love,” she giggled, “you’ve been way too happy lately. Like, absurdly happy.”

You froze in place, gwaning on your bottom lip. 

It was true, though. He was waking up early, smiling more, making more jokes that weren’t at Scott’s expense - they really had never seen him so happy.

“Um,” he hesitated for a second when you stole a glance at him. He was smiling to himself already.

“I guess you could say that.”

Everyone turned to stare at him in mild disbelief, including you.

“What? I was just kidding! Oh my god, you didn’t tell us?” Marie exclaimed, “spill it!”

Jean and Ororo were smiling wide behind their hands and exchanging knowing looks.

“Well, she’s real pretty,” he started, “and she’s sweet.”

You were trying so hard to fight a smile, covering your mouth with your fist as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“I never thought i’d hear you talk about someone like that,” Marie knitted her eyebrows and stuck out her bottom lip - the kind of face you’d make when a kid confesses their first crush.

Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed, a grin stuck on his face. Marie was still asking questions, determined to not let the topic go till she knew every detail.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Logan was nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looked like he was thinking of an answer.

“Uh… I don’t know. I haven’t really asked her.”

You must have been pink all the way to the tips of your ears. You brought your glass of water to your lips, hoping it would help cool your face. 

“Why not?”

Marie was really not gonna let this go and you dreaded to hear the answer come out of his mouth.

Logan sighed, picking at the skin around his fingernails as a nervous habit.

“Just a little nervous, I guess. I don’t wanna screw it up.”

“A girl that makes you nervous? When do we get to meet her?” 

Your eyes were stuck on the wood grain of the table, both of your hands covering half your face at this point.

“When the time is right,” he responded, taking a sip of his drink.

Ororo rolled her eyes.

You’d all finished eating a good while later and the check came. After you’d both put cash down, he mumbled under his breath with his hand shielding his mouth.

“Meet me outside in a second, okay?”

He slipped out of his seat and you watched him disappear around the corner.

No one had noticed him leave his seat, too engrossed in conversation. After a minute or two, you muttered something about using the bathroom before you left the table and swiftly made your way back to the entrance you had come in through. It was starting to rain a little, barely drizzling.

Logan was standing in the parking lot with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He beckoned you over when he saw you, taking your hand in his and leading you to a spot outside that wasn’t directly in front of the door. His nose was starting to turn pink from the cold evening air and your cheeks were doing the same.

“So,” he swallowed hard, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I guess it’s about time I asked you, huh?”

“Ask me what?’

You were smiling so wide that your face ached. You knew exactly what, but of course you wanted to hear him say it.

His expression mirrored yours and he let go of one of your hands so he could cup your face.

“Would you be my girl?”

It may have been a little juvenile - the teasing, the hiding, the avoidance of labeling what you had - but it had worked.

“I already am,” you told him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He happily reciprocated, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you even closer.

If either of you had taken a second to look around you first , you would’ve spotted the rest of the team turning the corner the second you kissed him. 

“No way!”

Marie’s squeal echoed through the parking lot and both of you jumped, turning towards the sound. You both stood in stunned silence, Logan’s arms still locked around your waist.

“Uh…” He was like a deer in headlights.

“I should’ve guessed,” Scott clicked his tongue, irritated that he hadn’t figured you out sooner.

“Guessed what? We’re - uh, we were just - “ Logan shot you a look, hoping you’d be able to think of something on the spot - even with his arms still locked around you. You could’ve squirmed out of his hold, made some unconvincing excuse about having something in your eye and needing his help. You almost did. Looking up at him, his features highlighted by the flood lights that illuminated the nearly empty lot and his cheeks peppered in rain drops, you had a realization. You didn’t want to lie. You didn’t feel the need to anymore. You weren’t afraid it wasn’t going to work or that you might be better off as enemies rather than lovers. Everything felt like it was finally right - as if every piece of your life finally fit into its perfect place. If you were wrong - fuck it. You’d deal with the consequences later if you had to. 

“Kissing. We were kissing - we’re dating,” you sputtered out to your friends, looking back to Logan after. You almost expected him to be embarrassed, to tell you to keep your mouth shut.

 But he was smiling. He was smiling wider than you’d probably ever seen. He leaned his head down to kiss your forehead affectionately, mumbling into your hair, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

You hummed in affirmation and peeked back at everyone else. 

“How? Since when? Oh my god, I need to know everything,” Marie was as giddy as could be, nearly jumping up and down.

“Since they went on that mission where they had to pretend to be married,” Ororo piped up, “they liked pretending a little too much.”

You all began walking to the two cars you came in, Logan’s arm draped around your shoulders. He was holding you so close that you were practically stepping on his boots.

“Aw,” you heard Marie whisper to Bobby from behind you, “they’re so sweet together.”

“Now that they're not trying to kill each other? Yeah,” he replied with a small laugh.

“I thought you guys hated each other,” Scott said, “what happened?

“Well,” you smiled to yourself, “he’s a good fake husband, so I figured he might make an alright boyfriend.”

You stopped when you approached the car and Logan wrapped you into a tight embrace, your face smushed against his chest. You giggled into his shirt until he finally let you go.

“How’d you guys even keep it under wraps anyway?” Scott asked.

You looked up to Logan, “Willpower?”

He chuckled, “I don’t know, really,” he rested his hands at your waist, “I guess we got lucky that you guys aren’t too bright.”

Ororo lightly smacked the back of his shoulder, rolling her eyes but holding a smile on her face.

You all piled into the cars you’d came in - you, Logan, Marie and Bobby in one and Jean, Scott and Ororo in another - and made your way home. Logan drove and you sat beside him, his hand in yours for most of the ride.

When you all got home and everyone went off to their rooms, Logan stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist.

“Would you, um,” he looked to the floor for a moment, biting back a smile, “would you maybe want to spend the night in my room?”

You and Logan had been alone together a handful of times, but never like that - in his bedroom. The thought made your palms start to sweat. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought of it - you’d been together about a month now and every time you’d gotten the chance to make out, you usually didn’t have an opportunity to go any further. Someone would call your name, Logan’s phone would ring, you’d hear footsteps - always something to pull you apart. It was torture, knowing you could kiss him till his hands started to creep up your shirt or your hand rested on his belt buckle but never actually get to go any further.

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep,” Logan could see the hesitation in your expression, “whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’d love to,” you replied, letting him take your hand in his and lead you down the hall. 

“How about this - I'll change into pajamas in my room, you can change in yours and then come down,” he swiped his thumb over your knuckles, “is that alright?”

You almost wanted to insist you could change in his room - let him see you bare in front of him like you wanted for weeks - but you simply nodded and slipped your hand from his grasp as you walked the short distance to your room. After changing into a tank top and pajama shorts, you shuffled up to his door in your slippers and gave a small knock.

He answered in an instant, wearing sweatpants and his usual white beater. You unintentionally let out a sigh, eyes immediately scanning over his muscular torso under the thin white fabric. 

Christ, he’s hot.

“Everything alright, pumpkin’?”

It didn’t help that he was so damn sweet to you.

“Huh? Uh - yeah, I just,” you stopped, realizing there wasn’t much of a need for an excuse, “I like the way you look in that.”

You boldly reached out to playfully tug the hem. He smiled and used your hand on him to pull you out of the hallway and into his room, wrapping you in his arms. 

“Yeah?” He said softly, kissing your cheek and forehead before finally meeting your lips, “I like the way you look in these.”

His hand slid down to the hem of your shorts, hiking them up a little to squeeze your upper thigh.

You giggled, a blush forming across your cheeks.

“And you’re so damn cute,” he led you to his bed, laying down and patting the spot next to him, “c’mere, sweetheart.”

Still, even after all those weeks, the pet names made you feel weak in the knees.

You obeyed instantly, crawling onto the mattress and snuggling up next to him. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong. 

Logan had a mirror across the room, coincidentally angled so that, from where you were, you could both see your reflection. He was playing with your hair when he began to stare at your reflection, smiling to himself.

“What?” You interrogated, looking up at him and then back to the mirror.

“We look good together,” he admitted, “well, you look good.”

You clicked your tongue, “are you kidding? Please, girls practically throw themselves at you.”

“Well, there’s only one girl I ever really wanted to throw herself at me.”

“I think you got your wish.”

You still had that spark - the back and forth quips and competitive nature - except that it was always something sweet now.

“I love you, a lot,” he muttered into the top of your head, pulling you as close as you could lay to him with your leg slung over his thighs.

“I love you too, Logan,” you smiled into his shirt, taking in the smell of him.

His hand came to rest on your thigh, gently kneading and squeezing. You already felt your breath quicken and heart start to race again as his fingertips traced the hem of your shorts. 

“Like I said,” he cooed, having picked up on your rapid heartbeat, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Staring up at him, his large hand still kneading your upper thigh, you’d decided - just like in the parking lot earlier - you’d had enough of holding back. You swiftly brought yourself further on top of him, straddling his lap with your knees on either side. You didn’t give him time to protest as you cupped his face and kissed him in a slow mess of tongues and teeth, savoring the feeling of finally having him beneath you. It wasn’t long before his hands found home on your thighs, his fingers already slotting beneath the fabric of your shorts. He then slid his hands up to squeeze your ass, pushing you even further into him while your tongue explored the inside of his mouth. When you finally pushed yourself up with your hands on his chest, he almost looked dazed. 

“I wouldn’t start somethin’ you can’t finish,” he panted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

“Oh, I think I’ll finish,” you joked, raising your eyebrows at the innuendo. 

“Yeah? I know you will.”

You squealed and giggled when he flipped you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head. 

“Been wantin’ to get my hands on you like this forever, you know,” he continued with a wicked smile, peppering kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, “thinkin’ about you.”

“W-What were you thinking about?” you managed to stutter out, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he began to lightly suck and bite at your warm skin.

“Having you here, in my bed. Getting to undress you, having your thighs ‘round my head.”

You nearly choked on your saliva at the filthy way he was mumbling against your skin and squeezing your hips.

“Me too,” was all you could say, lost in the feeling of his hands now sliding under your tank top, resting right below your tits.

“ ‘s that what you thought about?”

You can tell he wanted you to say it, let him know just how bad you wanted him.

“I thought about being in your bed, sitting on your lap,” you took a deep breath, “and having you - having you, uh…”

Your sentence trailed off, cheeks tinted pink.

“What, sweetheart? C’mon, don’t be shy. What do you want me to do, huh?”

He still knew how to tease you, even if it wasn’t out of spite anymore. 

“Fuck,” you swallowed audibly, “want you to eat me out, fuck me - anything.”

You sounded desperate and you knew it. You really didn’t care, too engrossed in everything about him to even consider it. 

“Really?”

Your eyes met his, filled with lust and ambition to please you any way you wanted. His lips were parted in surprise when he first heard your words, slowly turning into a devious smile.

“Please.”

That was all he needed to trail his lips down your shoulders, gently pushing the straps of your tank top down. He sat up to let you pull it off and if he wasn’t already set on worshiping you, he definitely was now.

You’d yanked the garment over your head and onto the floor, revealing your bare chest. 

Logan groaned, laying you back down and almost immediately latching his lips onto the newly exposed and incredibly soft skin. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbled against you as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you huffed quietly, arching your back to push yourself even further into him.

He was trying to hold back a smug grin, switching between each breast, sucking and biting gently.

“ ‘s good, baby?”

You were lost for words, even more so when you could see the string of spit that connected his mouth to one of your tits.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, your fingers having found their home in Logan’s hair. 

You whined when he pulled his mouth from you with an audible pop.

“Words, sweetheart,” he told you, his eyes glued to yours while he licked his own spit off his lips. 

“”Fuck, yes, yes -“

You were cut off by your own moan, gasping when you felt the pressure of his thigh in between yours. He slid his hands down your body to grab your ass in an attempt to grind you down on his leg.

“I like it when you make those noises for me,” he muttered into your chest, his hands still kneading your ass when he pulled you forwards.

You wanted him for so long that the reality of being with him had made you over sensitive to his touch. Even through the fabric of your panties and shorts, the feeling was intoxicating.

You were practically whining as he ground you down so hard that you were soaked all the way through your shorts and panties, the fabric of both sliding to the side.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he chuckled a little, feeling the soaked patch on his sweatpants, “all for me?”

You hummed, hands tugging at his hair, “for-for you.”

His hands came around to the front of your shorts, his fingers hooking onto the fabric.

“Can I take these off you?”

“Please,” you responded immediately, already lifting your hips off the bed so he could drag your shorts down your legs. 

When he turned to throw them somewhere on the floor, he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place from rolling around in the bed. He could see that you were still looking up at him, even when he was turned away.

“I got an idea, scoot up a bit,” he told you suddenly when he turned back to face you. You moved forward on the mattress as he momentarily stood up, stripping himself of his beater. He sat behind you and arranged himself so that he was holding your back against his chest with his arms around your waist, his legs spread out so you could lay between them.

You instantly caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. Your head was leaned back on his shoulder and he planted delicate kisses down your neck.

“ ‘s that why you wanted to sit like this?” you nodded weakly in the direction of the mirror, your eyes nearly fluttering close when he slid one of his hands to rest on the inside of your thigh.

“You look real pretty, I wanna see all of you,” he explained, his middle finger grazing your cunt through your damp panties.

Your eyes were glued to your reflection - your legs spread with his hand between them and purple hickies darkening on your chest. Logan was staring at your reflection too, his mouth still working on your neck.

“Look at you, all spread out for me,” he mumbled into your ear, “so fucking gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. If he kept saying all those filthy things, it wasn't going to take long before you were coming apart in his arms.

You shivered when his fingers hooked around the wet crotch of your underwear and moved it to the side.

You could hear him swear under his breath from behind you, his fingers barely grazing your heat.

“God, Logan,” you were squirming, trying to push your hips towards his hand, “you’re gonna make me beg?”

You could see him smirk into your shoulder in the mirror, “you know what?”

He moved his hands to drag your panties off, nearly tearing them in the process.

“Yeah, I am.”

He let his head fall back to rest on the headboard, lidded eyes staring into your reflection while his hands laid still on the outside of your hips - even farther away from where you wanted him. He really wasn’t going to move an inch until he heard you beg for it, though he couldn’t help himself from digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

You groaned in frustration, “Fucking hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

His lips grazed your earlobe and you wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look on his face, “Now, c’mon, baby. Beg.”

You moved your hands behind you so you could thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Fuck, please, Logan - need you.”

“Need me how?”

He really was an asshole.

“Need your hands - need your fingers, please,” you groaned.

“I don’t know, you think you’ve been a good girl? Think you deserve it?”

You would’ve been pissed at him had he not turned you on beyond belief. You gave in, becoming putty in his arms.

“ ‘m good - been good for you,” you whined, using one of your hands on his to try and move it between your legs, “please.”

He sighed, returning his hand back to the hot skin of your inner thigh, “Shit, need me that bad? Huh, pretty girl?”

You were so worked up you could have cried from his teasing. You nodded eagerly, attempting to clamp your thighs together to force his hand to at least graze your cunt that was dripping onto his sheets.

He clicked his tongue and used his strong hands on the inside of your thighs to spread your legs again, “Gotta keep ‘em open for me, sweetheart.”

He dragged two of his fingers between your folds, messily toying with you. You gasped, gripping his arm and inadvertently leaving imprints from your fingernails.

“So fucking wet,” he huffed, gaze glued to the reflection of your spread legs in the mirror, “Pretty pussy’s all mine.”

You were already whimpering and moaning from the slightest touch.

“ ‘s yours - fuck, I‘m-I’m yours,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

He hummed in agreement, his fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please, please, please,” you whined, trying to push your hips forward.

“I think you’ve been real good, angel,” he was slipping his fingers further into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “think you deserve it.”

You were whining and whimpering so loud that you were sure someone had to have heard you by now. You couldn’t help the noises slipping from your mouth, feeling like you’d black out just from the sight of Logan’s fingers slipping between your swollen lips and into your cunt.

When he finally thrusted his fingers into you all the way down to his knuckles, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle what you knew would be a pornographically loud moan.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing at your wrist to tug your hand away.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he panted into your ear, curling his fingers inside you, “wanna hear you - want everyone to know who’s makin’ you feel good like this.”

His thumb started to draw circles around your clit in rhythm with the movement of his fingers and you could feel the pressure in your stomach starting to build.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his jaw hung open while he watched his fingers disappear inside you over and over again with ease, “takin’ my fingers so well. I think you’d take somethin’ else real well, too.”

The intent of his words nearly drove you over the edge, your mind unable to stop conjuring up images of what it would be like when he finally did fill you like you’d wanted him to.

“Logan, Logan, I’m -,” you groaned, so close to finally coming on his fingers.

Until he slipped them out of you and pulled his hand away completely.

You choked out a sob, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration.

“I’m gonna let you finish, don’t worry,” he promised. You watched him suck his fingers clean before he used his arm around you to rearrange you both so that he was laying on his back and you were facing him with your legs straddling his torso. You could feel his erection poking at your ass and you licked your lips when you imagined being able to take him in your mouth, letting him fuck your throat to the point that your chin and the base of his cock were coated in your drool.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Logan’s voice brought you out of thought and you let him guide your legs up until your knees were on either side of your head.

You looked down at him in curiosity, not yet understanding what it was he wanted to do.

Noticing your expression, he wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull your dripping pussy closer to his mouth.

“I’m gonna let you finish, baby, but it’s gotta be on my mouth. Sit.”

“You…” you hesitated for a second, feeling your face redden, “you want me to sit on your face? What if I crush you? Or suffocate you?’’

He chuckled at your concern, lovingly caressing your thighs, “You won’t, trust me. It’ll feel good, I promise. Besides, If you did suffocate me? I don’t think I’d wanna go any other way.”

You laughed nervously and let him pull you down further, sinking onto his face. His tongue swiped up your folds and you gripped the headboard so you wouldn’t fall forward.

“Jesus, Logan,” you gasped, your other hand gripping his hair, “feels so fucking good.”

“Uh-huh, told you, princess. Jus’ lemme take care of you,” he mumbled into your pussy, eating you like he was starved. He moved his head back and forth and up and down to lick every inch of you he could.

“I think I would’ve - ah, would’ve said somethin’ to you much sooner if I knew you could do this,” you joked a little, your small chuckle turning into a gasp when he slipped his tongue even further down so he was inside you. He hummed into you, his nose nudging against your clit. You began to grind your hips back and forth over his mouth, drunk off the way he moved his tongue.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, “use me, c’mon.”

His hairy arms were hooked around your thighs like a vice, to the point that you couldn’t lift your hips even if you wanted to. When his eyes weren’t trained on you above him, they were squeezed shut in an attempt to savor every second his tongue was in your pussy. He was pulling your thighs forward every time you rocked yourself back and forth, desperate to feel you come on - in - his mouth. 

You could already feel the pressure building in your stomach. The obscene wet noises coming from his mouth messily eating your cunt didn’t do much to ease it, either. Your eyes rolled back and you continued to ride his face, mouth hung open in ecstasy. Logan could tell you were close just from how sloppy your movements had become. 

“Gonna come for me already, honey?”

You hated how hot it was when he teased you, mocked your desperation.

“Fuck, yeah,” you groaned, your hips rolling forward.

“Lemme see it, pretty girl, come for me.”

You gasped at the filth spilling from his lips into you. It was more than enough to finally make the tension snap in your lower stomach, still rocking your hips over his mouth while you whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer.

Logan was practically growling into your cunt, feeling your muscles contract around his prodding tongue. He was trying to catch anything that possibly came from your release. You tasted good, but when you finished? Even fucking better.

“Lo-Logan, too much, s’ too much,” you tried to protest as he kept your thighs locked around his face, still lapping at you without slowing his pace. He hummed in response and finally let you go when he was sure he’d licked you clean.

You lifted your hips and moved to sit beside him on your heels, almost in pain at the loss of physical contact. When you finally got to see his face, his lips were red and raw, his chin and even the side of his cheeks coated in your slick. You watched in awe as he wiped his cheek, bringing his hand up to his mouth after to lick it clean.

“Taste fucking amazing,” he assured you, keeping his eyes on yours when he sucked on one of his fingers.

You caught sight of his obvious and rather large erection and your mouth began to water. Once again, you were lost in the thought of how good it would be to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth.

“You alright, baby?”

“Yeah, I - um,” you sighed, leaning forward on your hands, “can I - can I have it in my mouth? Just for a little bit?”

Your hand rested on his hip, fingers grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, dangerously close.

“Shit,” he huffed, his cock twitching from the anticipation, “you wanna?”

You nodded eagerly, pulling his pants and boxers down his thighs when he lifted his hips.

“Hey,” he tenderly stopped your hand as you reached to touch him, “I’m tellin’ you now, girl -  you can suck it ‘cause you asked so nicely but I’m not comin’ unless it’s in you.”

He let go of your wrist and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, continuing to speak.

“I can fill your throat another time, yeah?”

You were speechless, lidded eyes switching from his face to his swollen cock and back again. You nodded in agreement.

You guessed Logan would be big - he was generally a large guy - but you could feel the drool gathering in your mouth when his cock sprung out of his boxers to hit his stomach. He was fucking huge. You might’ve been nervous if you weren’t so eager to fit him into your mouth. You finally leaned down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, softly licking at his leaking tip.

Logan threaded your hair between his fingers, gathering as much as he could to form a makeshift ponytail that was held together by his fist. 

“Like seein’ your pretty face. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?”

His words only spurred you on and you gathered as much saliva as possible so you could spit onto his cock. When you did, you started to stroke him in a slow rhythm that had him rocking his hips towards your hand already. His mouth hung open and his eyes were glued to your movements, watching you work your hand up and down. Your spit coated your hand and his cock to the point that it was dripping down his balls.

The moment you finally closed your mouth around him, he was practically a mess.

You took him as deep as you could, relaxing your throat and steadily breathing. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned. He watched your head bob up and down while you simultaneously stroked whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. He huffed out your name in between cursing under his breath. His gaze caught the mirror he’d nearly forgotten about and he could’ve came just from the sight of your mouth drooling around him.

“So good, baby,” he sighed, licking his lips, “you look so pretty suckin’ my cock.”

You reveled in the praises spilling from his lips. Chasing more, you used your hand that wasn’t around him to cup his balls and massage gently. He actually whimpered and you could feel Logan’s legs start to shake a bit.

“Alright, enough - ,” he grunted, using his grip on your hair to pull your mouth from him and push your hand away.

You almost looked hurt, pouting while looking between him and his glistening cock. Truthfully, you liked the taste of him. Loved it, really, so much so that you had to hold back from diving right back into position. Just the idea had you clenching your thighs together when you thought of it. When your mouth was already on him? You were so wet again that it was starting to smear across your inner thighs.

“Sorry, doll,” he apologized while swiping fallen strands of hair from your face, “too close.”

It felt exhilarating being able to turn big, bad, scary Wolverine into a whimpering mess after only a couple minutes in your mouth.

“I’m gonna come in you,” he reiterated, “gonna make you mine.”

You just about melted into putty from his words.

“ ‘m yours, ‘v been yours.”

Your voice was desperate and you crawled onto him, straddling his hips. Your bare cunt slid against the base of his cock and his hips jerked up.

“Fuck,” he panted, “you wanna know somethin’? Been thinking about this for so long, even when I thought you hated me - I couldn’t help it.”

“Me too,” you replied, hands on his chest to steady yourself, “even when I thought you hated me. Used to think - to think about jus’ getting you alone.”

“Yeah?” He teased, one of his hands coming down to align his cock with your entrance, “what did you think about doing when you got me alone, hm?”

“I - ah, f-fuck,” you tried to speak, stuttering when he started to slip himself in as slowly as possible, “letting you fuck me, having - having your fingers in me.”

“So, is it as good as you imagined?”

“Mm,” you tried to respond and only whined from the pressure of Logan pushing you down further onto his cock and stretching you out, “better, it’s better.”

“You think you can take all of it, sweetheart?”

“I need it, please, please, Logan - need you.”

You could rarely recognize your own voice, strained and desperate.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nice.”

In one hard thrust, he pushed your hips down onto his.

Your jaw hung open and your eyes rolled back into your head. You’d never felt so fucking full before, like he reached every inch of where you wanted him. 

“Fucking - Christ, Logan, you - ah,” your sentence was cut off when he began to grind up into you, using his grip on your hips to keep you steady and gently help guide you up and down. 

“Hm? What, baby?”

When you sat back down on him, he used an iron grip to keep you where you were, pushing himself as far into you as he possibly could. The friction on your clit made your pussy twitch and he definitely felt it, pulling you back and forth a little bit.

Again, you couldn’t speak - too distracted by the indescribable feeling of having him sheathed completely inside you. Your eyes started to water, tears forming from the overwhelming pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck me,” you nearly sobbed, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, “please, please.”

He finally let you lift your hips up and down again and you were a whining fucking mess. Logan could see over your shoulder into the mirror and he marveled at the white ring you left around the base of his cock every time you lifted your hips. You were messy, exactly how he wanted you - he’d probably lick you clean after, if you’d let him.

You were rambling into his neck, panting, “so fucking - you’re so big, oh my god, need you all - ah - all the time.”

He was smirking to himself, smug from how he was able to fuck you to the point that you were just letting go completely - telling him every thought that popped into your mind while you were still on top of him. You worked yourself up to a steady rhythm and he indulged in the image of your tits bouncing above him when you sat up. 

“So good, honey - takin’ me so well, like you were made for me,” he groaned. His eyes never left yours.

“ ‘m made for - for you,” you slurred, rolling your hips.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s this pussy belong to, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours, I - it’s yours, Logan.”

Your thighs started to ache pretty quickly, your pace faltering as he kept steadily drilling up into you. 

“Are you sore, baby? You wanna switch?”

His voice was so soft in comparison to how he was speaking moments earlier through gritted teeth. You nodded and let him lay you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, both cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally, your lips. You were absolutely giddy from the sickly sweet moments you shared inbetween the times where he was fucking you so hard you were out of breath. 

Your ankles locked behind Logan’s back to pull him into you while he tried to guide himself with his hand. He slipped back in effortlessly and ground his hips forward, pinning you down to the mattress. One of his arms was snaked around your back to hold you closer and the other was holding your wrists together above your head.

His hips rolled forward and he hit a spot inside of you that made the fire in the pit of your stomach rise.

You choked out a sob and tried to squirm in an attempt to free your wrists, but you both knew there was no way you’d wiggle out of his grip unless he let you. To no surprise, a man made of mostly metal was almost impossibly strong when he pinned you down with his hands and hips.

“I gotcha’.” he panted, so close that your noses brushed together when he thrust forward, “you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

As if you’d want to move from your spot underneath him.

Your eyes caught the shining metal of the dog tags hanging from his neck, swinging back and forth over your chest when he moved. When you looked back up to his face, his eyes were boring into yours. His face was flushed and his mouth hung open, sweat accumulating on his brow. He looked fucking gorgeous. You were going to tell him so, try to lean up to kiss him, but he spoke again before you could.

“I’m in love with you - ‘m so in love with you, you know that?”

The pace of his thrusts quickened and you could’ve cried at the sincerity had he not been drilling into you so hard that you could barely open your eyes.

“I - I’m, ah - in love with - with you, too,” you choked out between gasps.

“So pretty,” he muttered, finally letting go of your wrists so he could hold your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him, “i’m so fucking lucky.”

It was all too much - the sincere adoration in his voice combined with the filthy way he was snapping his hips into yours - and you could feel the knot in your lower stomach start to come undone.

“Logan, fuck, I’m -,” you tried to tell him you were close, but his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you.

“God, please - c’mon, c’mon,” he was pleading through gritted teeth, trying with everything in him to hold back from coming before you did. His hand slipped between your bodies so he could draw tight circles around your clit and your eyes squeezed shut in ecstacy. 

You were chanting his name after a couple more strokes, tears rolling down the side of your face while he pounded you through your orgasm. You were practically seeing stars, your legs shaking around his waist.

He could feel your muscles contract around him and his movements became sloppy. He was grunting with every roll of his hips, muttering praises under his breath.

So fucking pretty

Look so beautiful like this

So perfect

He was spilling into you seconds later, animalistically groaning into your ear. His hips slowed to a halt, his arms still wrapped around you. You were both shiny and sticky with sweat, panting with flushed faces. When he pulled his face from your ear, he was beaming like an idiot, already drowsy.

“Was that good, baby?”

He was still out of breath, using one arm to weakly hold himself above you while he stroked your hair. 

“Are you serious? More than good,” you chuckled, “amazing.”

He tenderly kissed your forehead and rolled beside you, immediately wrapping you in his arms.

“Don’t we have to clean up?” you asked, eyes already starting to flutter closed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck, “can do it later - wanna cuddle.”

You grinned wide, amused by how damn cute he was. You simply hummed in agreement, resting your hand over his.

“Logan?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

A/N: I had to close my laptop and walk away a a couple time while writing this so I hope it drives you as insane as it did me! I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

If you enjoyed, thank you for reading and pls like/reblog!! <3 and thank u sm for the love on part 1!