#when i look into your eyes it's stars i'm seeing

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ No Longer Strangers — Awakened Pure Vanilla x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a part two to this fic as an apology for the angst, hehehe

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ��� ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It had been troubling, being apart without Pure Vanilla. It felt like a very piece of your souljam had been torn out, leaving you a devestated mess in the meantime. While this "Recluse" took off, you tried to pick up the pieces he had left. Yet, to your surprise, you were now face to face with the same Cookie who had said those terrible things to you. His clothes had a white tinge rather than black, the blues completely gone. The eye of his staff now sported a brilliantly shining star, matching the mark on his forehead. His expression was deeply troubled as he spoke with you. "My dear, I-... I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am" he began softly, voice thick with guilt.

You shook off your surprise at his new form, fixing him with a glare. "You should be. Do you have any idea what it was like, having you talk to me like I was nothing? Hearing you treat me like a problem?". Pure Vanilla winced, his hands nervously rubbing the handle of his staff. "I.. wasn't myself. I was under Shadow Milk's control, and... I thought you'd be safer without me. In some way, I... thought I was helping". "Well you weren't" you replied firmly. Pure Vanilla frowned more, slowly stepping closer to you. He extended a nervous hand, and you noticed how it shook. Your expression softened, and with only a moment's hesitation, you allowed him to take your hand into his.

You watched with a suspicious gaze as Pure Vanilla guided your hand to his lips, gently pecking the back of it "Oh, my dove... you didn't deserve such cruelty. Never in all my years have I ever dreamt of hurting you, even in my nightmares". As he spoke, you heard his tone waver. Something in your chest lurched painfully, but you tried to stuff it down. "But you did," you told him, voice now soft as the old aches returned "I know it wasn't in your control, but I can't forget it". "I understand" Pure Vanilla said.

He then kneeled down, bowing a little. He pressed your hand to his forehead. "Please, let me make it up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life letting you know that I adore you every day, each more than the last" he said, tone having warbled into near-begging. "Pure Vanilla..." You said, and he cut you off by opening up his eyes. You could see the darkness that once suffocated them was now gone, the soft blue and yellow you'd come to love being visible once again. He gently moved your hand to his cheek, and kissed your palm. "I'm sorry, my dove. And I can't say it enough. I can't spend another moment thinking of how you looked that last time we met"

The memory fluttered across your mind, the way it stung seeing your beloved look at you with such disdain. All traces of coldness was gone, now the healer was leaning into your hand like it was the last time he'd ever feel your touch. You felt some dampness from his eye reach your hand, and that alone broke you. You inched closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. "I- I thought you'd-" you began, voice breaking up with emotion. Pure Vanilla wrapped you in his arms, a sensation you previously feared never feeling again. "Shh, shh, it's alright. I'm back now, you see? It's just me" he murmured.

You couldn't help but melt into his hold, pouring all the agony you'd felt into tears while dissolving in his arms. He sniffled, a small whimper leaving him as he cried along with you. It took several moments, but when you pulled back, Pure Vanilla began kissing the tears off of your dough, wiping your eyes clean with his hands. "I love you, my dove" he said quietly "More than anything. You don't have to forgive me just yet, but I'll try every day to prove it to you". You chuckled a little. It was so uniquely him, and for the first time in a long while, you felt he was himself again. His voice, the one you remembered, the one that comforted you countless times, was back.

You gave a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. Almost as soon as it happened, Pure Vanilla gently cupped your face, bringing you back in for a proper kiss. It was chaste, but you felt relief fill your form at feeling his kiss again. You held it with him until it slowly broke, Pure Vanilla simply breathing in the moment. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Anything you want, my love, and I'll grant it to you" he said. You smiled, hugging him once more "I'll tell you when I think of it. Can we just stay here for now?". "Of course," Pure Vanilla said, shifting to be fully sitting and putting you right in his lap. He gently pet your hair while keeping a tight hold around your waist. You leaned into him, feeling whole once again.

[bueckersbitch]

greenlight part two - paige bueckers x reader

☆ warnings : angst, sexual context, strap, toxic!paige

☆ word count : 2k

☆ authors note : hiiiii! here’s part two! i could honestly keep going w this concept bc i love it sm! also how is it senior night im in shambles

☆ taglist : @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersfive @vamptizm

“I can’t believe I'm back here again.” Your words hung in the air, thick and suffocating to Paige, but it wasn’t new; it was the mantra you had been repeating to her over the last couple of months whenever you would see her on occasion. So, Paige had heard it more than she wished to. You watched as Paige took a hit from the blunt you guys were sharing, her low eyes revealing the high she was experiencing. But even then, the high was something that would eventually end, like the two of you.

Paige’s ego got the best of her, “I know, but we always find our way back to each other.” She referenced the text you received from her a month after you saw her new girlfriend on your feed. You snatch the blunt from her, taking a drag and exhaling, the smoke filling the car and the void of uncomfortable silence. You looked over at the blonde, being met with her eyes already looking at you. The cool air from the ac settled into your bones. You hated how this seemed to be your normal now, Paige pushing to see you, which led to the inevitable argument that made you come to the same conclusion every time: You would leave, and Paige would beg you to stay.

Paige licked her lips, taking the bottom one in between her teeth before tilting her head back to lie on the headrest of her seat, “Why do you keep pretending it’s gonna be the last time we see each other?” You broke your gaze away from her, looking out the windshield at the Dallas skyline, and while the city was buzzing with the lives and stories of countless people, Paige always managed to make it feel like it was just you two. She had taken you in her car to the very top of a parking garage, parking facing the beautiful skyline. 

You manage to find words, deciding that the truth wouldn’t hurt. “I don’t know. I want to move on, and everything in my head is telling me to, but my heart still wants to be with you, I guess.” Your confession lingers in the air. That’s when you feel the softness of Paige’s fingertips on your leg. Her hand travels to caress your cheek, moving a strand of hair that had escaped from behind your shoulder back behind your ear. “I fucked up, ma. I know that now. You don’t want to move on because you and I both know it was always supposed to be us.” 

You lead your eyes back to Paige, slightly admiring her appearance. Her signature braided ponytail she hadn’t been able to let go of. Even after going to the league, it was obvious she couldn’t let go of you when she went to the league either. Finding comfort in familiarity . Her legs spread as much as they could in the tight confines of her Jeep. Her bottom half covered in grey Essentials sweatpants, and her black Nike tech covering her top, slightly unzipped to show her “pb” necklace, an outfit you had told and showed her how much you loved when you were together.

Her hips shift up slightly when she reaches to adjust the temperature of the car, taking the blunt back from your hands.

You guys pass the blunt back and forth, Paige finishing it off and discarding the roach mindlessly, tossing it out the window and onto the asphalt. She shifts her seat back, opening the sunroof to look out at the night sky above you both. You follow suit, eyes tracking a shooting star. Piage had noticed it too it seemed, “Y’wanna know what I wished for?” Your eyes start to water, because you knew what she was going to tell you, “I wished that you would come back to me, for good.” You sigh at that, as much as you wanted to, and as much as you kept finding yourself in this situation, you couldn’t bring yourself to let yourself get lost in her again. Maybe you were being overdramatic, but how could you pass off your feeling of betrayal? Paige had left you as soon as she found someone whose smooth flirting eased its way into her mind. Discarded you, like she had with the roach, which left you feeling like the four years between you two wasn’t as serious as it had been.

Her hands reached for your thighs again, this time, it was to swing your legs over the middle seat, to rest in her lap. You were leaning against the window now, facing her as she turned her head to you. Paige was always more affectionate high, the warmth of it giving her the ability to be honest with herself and you. “Y’look so pretty ma.” Paige says, a soft smile adorning her lips as she rubs her hands up and down your calves. “I told you, no pet names anymore.” You set boundaries before you hung out with Paige, it was always, “behave yourself P, no pet names, and no arguments about what we used to be.”  Even you found that hard sometimes.

“C’mon, I just miss how it was, I miss when you were there for me, I miss coming home from practice to find you napping on the couch, how i would wake you up with a kiss to your forehead so you could pull me under the blanket with you, how we would fall asleep together.” You could lash out, tell her that this was the consequences of her own actions, but you couldn’t deny that you felt that way too. “Paige.” Is what you settled on, not wanting to argue with her, not wanting to ruin your high. “M’sorry” she groans. “I miss it too.” You confess, Paige being the one person who coild get the truth out of you. And you did miss it, your own couch feeling cold and lonely without your tall girlfriend.

“C’mere.” she coaxes you with her smooth voice, and for once, you don’t fight it, letting her hands wrap around your waist and lift you up over the middle console and into her lap. You let your arms fall around her neck, she hugs you by the waist, rubbing your back comfortingly as you inhale the scent of her Valentino colonge. 

She shifts her hips again, this time to try and get more comfortable. That’s when you feel it, pressing up against you through the clothing. It wasn’t foreign, she would wear it under her clothes when you were together, reminding you that it was “more convenient” that way. 

You pull away from her neck, and she knows, she knows what you’re about to say, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as her lips curve into a smirk. “Oh my God Paige, You’re not real.” She starts twisting the ends of your hair between her fingers, “You love it.” 

Her hands find their way to your hips, softly rocking you on her lap. You let out a soft whine, accompanied by a breathy string of curse words. “Missed this, missed you” Paige says, grabbing your head to crash her lips onto yours. Her lips felt so familiar it hurt, the air was being stripped from your lungs, you let yourself sink into her as her hands kept moving your hips against her. “I need you Paige.” You say, grinding down against her, feeling your slick start to get uncomfortable. “I know baby, I need you to cum in your pants first, been awhile since I got you right like that.” Her words were filthy, but Paige was always good at communicating what she wanted from you, “Give me a chance, lemme remind you how I make you feel.” You whine, the wetness in your pants providing enough to comfortably grind against what you yearned for in her pants. “Fuck, okay.” You say, wanting nothing more than to forget about all the hurt you felt over the last few months. 

That was all the confirmation Paige needed, she lifted your light pink tank top just enough to be met with your light purple lace bra, the one you bought for Paige’s birthday. “Fuck, Y’tryna kill me?” She sighed, rubbing her thumbs across your nipples before flicking them, watching your tits bounce slightly with the movement of your hips. You let out a whine, Paige continued to aide you with your movements, her sweet words helping the feeling in your stomach tighten, relief finally washing over you, whining into her ear as you do so.

Paige lifts her hips to take her sweatpants off, unzipping her tech right after, very quickly figuring you that she had decided to forgo a bra, being met with her supple tits, nipples pink and peaked due the the pleasure of getting you off. You mirror her actions, taking off your tank top fully, deciding to keep Paige’s favorite set on you on, you follow with your sweatpants, the light purple thong being corrupted with a darker patch from earlier actions. Paige let out a hum at the sight of you, cursing slightly to herself at the sheer thought of having you like this again. 

“I’ll do all the work for you ma, you deserve that.” Paige says, lifting your hips to place you above the tip of her purple strap, “Look at that, we go together real bad, huh?” You don’t get a chance to respond, she pulls your panties to the side and eases you down onto her length, the tip hitting your spot as she allows you to get used to the intrusion.

Paige pulls all of your hair over one shoulder, leaning you into her, lifting you up just enough for her to start thrusting her hips up. She moves your face into her neck, craning her head to start kissing your neck, you feel the slow suck of your skin into her mouth, biting it a little before smoothing it over with the cool of her tongue. 

“Fuck Paige, just make me feel good please.” You say through your moans, the car starts to fog up with desire. The faint buzzing of the vibrator against her clit cutting through the air, making you both moan, Paige sighing with pleasure. Your back arched as you got closer, taking in how Paige looked, needy, her lips more flushed and plump than usual, the rapid breathing pushed her tits out to you, you moved your fingers to her nipples, your short french manicured nails twisting one slightly, forcing Paige to let out, “Oh, fuck.” Paige started thrusting faster, harder, her hands underneath your thighs to support you through it, “Please tell me you’re close baby.”  You gasp, the direct punching of her against your spot made you moan out, “Yes, please.” Pressure in your stomach becoming unbearable, you decide to kiss at her neck, pulling her ponytail to yank her head to the side, giving you better access. You suck a mark, just as she had, and then you lick the letters of your name straight over it. Paige groans when she realizes, and you knew, the pressure snapped for the both of you, letting out satisfied moans as you both reahed your peak.

-

Paige had dropped you off at your apartment, you used your keycard to get into the building, walking past the complex's gym, straight to the elevator.

You questioned how much longer it would be like this, you thought about how you told yourself you would take her back if she truly apologized. But she had, and you still felt a sense of longing to go back to the way it used to be, young, and in love. Before the reality of the real world drowned you guys. She fucked up, she knew that, but you were also very aware of how it had you feeling, like Atlas, the weight of the whole sky on your shoulders. The elevator opens, and you step into it, hitting your floor and pulling your phone out. You needed to move on, so you find Paige’s contact, and hit the red text that says, “Block Caller”

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you’d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don’t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[cherryheairt]

Guilty Pleasure

Pairing: Salesman/recruiter x reader

Request: Already in an established relationship, reader and Salesman have occasional game nights or simply reader wants to play ddakji, and at some point Salesman forgets himself and automatically slaps reader. Immediately feels bad and tries to make up for it. Whether or not reader knows he's a recruiter I leave up to you.

Fake name given to Salesman.

It wasn't often that your husband got to spend time at home with you. Even when he was off from his evening salary job (which was rare) you were working in the days. On weekends, you consider yourself lucky if you got at least a few hours together. When you finally did, you both made sure to make the most of it and spend your time making valuable memories.

Seo-joon got paid generously, and even though he was vague about his exact job description, you had learned that he really only cared to spend it on you. Expensive dinners at five star restaurants, vacations to foreign countries, a luxurious night out for couples massages and wine-tasting events. You didn't much care for what the activity was, so long as you were together. Seo-joon seemed to think the same, but loved seeing your smile when spoiling you rotten.

This weekend, you noticed how tired he seemed from his long hours of the week. Instead of going out and being in the public eye, you asked him to wait for you at home while you finished up your own work. With a raised brow, he submitted to your request without a complaint and finished up chores at home while you went out to do your own errands.

Groceries, done.

Car note, paid.

Dinner for tonight, secured in your hand.

The two ddakji folded papers in your other hand, also secured.

Tonight you were determined to let your husband sit back and relax. Movies, candy, and a little childhood throwback to ease his stressed mind.

“I'm home,” you called softly, kicking off your shoes and replacing them with slippers at the entrance. Your little cat, Ink, rubbed against your legs and mewed for attention. Seo-joon stood up from the couch, putting down his phone after a hurried goodbye to his, presumably, boss. He wasted no time in greeting you, carefully stepping around Ink and wrapping his hands around your waist, kissing the corner of your mouth on each side before finally connecting your lips together. His little tradition, for ‘good luck’ he said.

The tint of peach lip gloss transferred to his lips but he never bothered to wipe it, instead rubbing his lips together and savoring the familiar taste of you. “Welcome back.” He said in a low murmur, hugging you to his chest.

You giggled at the affection, missing him just as much as he missed you. “I have a surprise planned for you.” You started, lifting the concealed bags in between you two.

He pulled away, tilting his head ever so slightly while eyeing the bags. “Hm? What is it?” Typically, he preferred to plan the dates and surprises as he always said was traditional and gentlemanly, but any little treat you brought him home always made his eyes light up in a way that made your own heart melt.

“You've been so busy lately, I thought it would be nice for a night in. I got some takeout and ddakji!” You hummed pleasantly, placing the two bags on the small dining table. With an arm still around your waist and lying on your hip, you felt him tense almost imperceptibly.

Turning to face him, he looked almost pale in the light of the evening. “Seo-joon?” You asked, rubbing the back of your hand on his cheek. “What's wrong, are you feeling sick?”

Easily, he took your hand in his own and kissed it, leading it back to your side and shaking his head. Chuckling, he answered, “I just didn't expect to hear that. I haven't played ddakji since I was young.”

Beaming, you nodded. “Me too! I thought it might be a fun throwback.” As you plated the takeout, Seo-joon set the table with silverware and pulled out your seat.

After some debriefing about your day, Seo-joon and you finished your meals and relaxed into the sofa cushions, playing a rom-com drama movie and simply settled into each other's company. His scent was still fresh even after he changed from his formal attire into a more comfortable turtleneck sweater and sweatpants. With your face buried in his neck and breath brushing over his skin with each exhale, Seo-joon couldn't help but coo at your sleepy eyes.

“Are you ready for bed, dear?” He asked quietly, brushing hair behind your ear to get it out of your eyes.

Jumping up, you blinked away all tiredness and rapidly shook your head. Seo-joon's eyes widened and sat up to watch you flounce around the room from the table and back to the couch.

Holding out both hands, you revealed the two ddakji papers to him. One was a bright blue and the other a deep purple. “You can pick your color.” You gestured, eager to play the game.

Slowly, almost hesitant if you didn't know your husband well, he grabbed the purple and stood up, slightly looking down at you as he did. “Since I picked, you can go first.” He straightened up his sweater as if it were his usual grey-blue suit, muscle memory coming into play with every movement he made.

You nodded, looking down at his paper on the floor before questioning: “What is the prize for winning?”

He thought for a moment. “How about a kiss on the cheek?” He tapped his own cheekily, eyes squinted with amusement as you wasted no time agreeing.

Slapping the blue paper down, you laughed with satisfaction as the purple one flipped completely over. “First try!” You exclaimed. Seo-joon chuckled, picking up the blue and getting ready for his own turn.

With a loud ‘slap!’ he flipped his, too. It looked almost effortless, as if he had played the childhood game a mere day ago instead of years.

“The stakes raise…” you murmur, slapping your own one down yet again. It flipped, and somehow you both managed to hit each other's papers perfectly for multiple rows at a time.

Sighing, you almost felt tired with the exertion of throwing and picking up at rapid paces.

With a responding smack, you frowned when you realized you were the first to lose. “Aw—”

SMACK

You registered the sound before the pain. Clutching your cheek, you could only stare wide-eyed at the man in front of you, who bore the same expression verbatim.

It was silent for a long moment.

Then another.

And another.

Then, he finally unfroze. He stepped forward to caress your face in both of his hands, brows furrowed so tight that you thought he might burst a blood vessel. “Fuck. I'm so, so sorry, my love. That was an accident, I swear that on everything—”

Your resounding giggle cut him off. You held his wrists in a loose grip, face buried in his chest as you uncontrollably laughed at the silliness of the situation. Seo-joon would never actually hurt you with ill intent, this you knew for certain, but the absolute absurdity of him instinctively slapping you after you lost a game of ddakji was probably the funniest thing that had happened to you for months.

Seo-joon’s hands hovered over your shoulders in the meanwhile, unsure of whether to touch you or continue profusely apologizing to you.

“Seo-joon, did you and your friends slap each other as punishment?” You managed to wheeze out through your laughs.

His completely tensed up body loosened slightly after you said that. He sighed one long and extremely grateful sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” He said vaguely. “Are you okay?” He lifted your face up to inspect it closely, the mark left behind already fading in both appearance and pain.

You bit your cheek at his cute consideration, kissing his nose and lips after running your hands through his once neat hair. “I'm just fine. That was fun, we could keep going—”

“Absolutely not.” He said firmly, though he let a slightly amused exhale leave his lungs.

You only snorted, kissing the apple of his cheek and tugging him to the bedroom. “Come on, it's not like you've never slapped me before.”

It was his turn to be completely stunned and silent.

Listening to Guilty Pleasure and After Midnight by Chappell Roan im so hooked

this was amusing to write, sorry it's pretty short aha

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ playlists / caleb x reader

synopsis; sharing your music streaming account with caleb; maybe you weren't the only one feeling something deeper than friendship.

🍎 pomme's notes - i had to put this on paper (? screen..?) before i forgot about it... big fan of love songs and i have my very own caleb playlist (which will be shared at the end of this post)!! do share your calebcore songs with me in replies :9

⋆ 400 words / fluff / reader is gender neutral / 2nd person / point form / two fools pining for each other..

✈︎ caleb who you've shared a spotify account with for as long as you can remember.

✈︎ you'd always check what he was listening to, and he did the same.

✈︎ "aww pipsqueak, this thing's full of love songs. you feeling lovesick or somethin'?", he'd say, with a boyish grin plastered on his face.

✈︎ he teased and poked fun at you, but secretly wished for the love songs in your playlist to reflect how you felt about him. after all, he'd listen to songs and think of you too.

✈︎ and they were. tons of sappy melodies, all of which reminded you of his bright purple eyes. those eyes that looked at you like you were the world.

✈︎ you'd send each other songs, all of which had some sort of message hidden within them. lines about falling in love, the warmth of one another's arms, how the world felt conquerable when they were by your side.

✈︎ that was caleb to you, and you to caleb. no matter what happens, you'd be the anchor he needs, and he'd be the star in your night sky.

✈︎ "shut up, caleb.. i've seen the bruno mars in your playlists! is there a secret someone i'm not aware of?" you'd reply, cheeks burning. you knew he spent all of his free time with you, but seeing the cute little songs within his rotation, you couldn't help seeds of doubt getting planted in your mind.

✈︎ "me? never", he chuckled and with the most sincere look he could muster, he looks at you; "you know you're the only one for me, pips. no one comes close."

✈︎ you could swear you see his ears turning a deep red. he reaches out, inserting an earbud into your ear, knocking the words you were gonna utter out of your mouth.

✈︎ "let's call a truce and listen to our sappy songs together, yeah? we can be lovesick losers together" and with a bit of a tremble in his hand, he grabs a hold of yours.

✈︎ you hum, interlacing your fingers with his. whatever it was that you two were, more than friends, not quite lovers, you were content not giving it a title for now.

✈︎ if you can stay by his side, in this small and warm world you created, then you're okay waiting, and he doesn't mind waiting even longer, just for you to take a step and open your arms to him.

✈︎ for now, it was just you two, shared earbuds, and a soft romantic melody.

🍎 pomme's final notes - he's so sweet.. i've been debating his music taste with my friends and all of my friends say he's got a 2010s loser music taste which i agree with, but i think he's oh so sappy.. he listens to doo-wops & hooligans and he's got the biggest smile on his face thinking about you when 'just the way you are' comes on!!!! i just know it.. 

click this for my calebcore playlist! this leads to a youtube playlist full of songs that remind me of him! he canonically listens to whatever you listen to i think? which is so so so sweet. need me a caleb!!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ dancing with our hands tied

chapter summary: After helping a young boy, you and Logan talk about trying again.

word count: 10.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm pretty sure that like half of this is smut so enjoy it y'all

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, slight angst, talks of trying for a baby, smut, oral (f&m!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, shower sex

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Logan took you into town after you said you wanted to try the new bakery that just opened up. You had mentioned it offhand a few days ago, and true to his nature, Logan didn’t forget. The smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries hit as soon as you opened the bakery door, a small bell jingling to announce your arrival.

It wasn’t overly crowded, but it was clear the bakery was already a hit. The cozy little space was dotted with people sipping coffee and chatting softly over plates of desserts. You adjusted your glasses, scanning the menu. Logan stood behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you debated between the chocolate croissant and the cherry tart.

"Why not both?" Logan murmured, leaning down so his gruff voice was low and close to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him a soft look. "I’ll never finish both."

"I will," he said with a shrug, making you smile despite yourself.

With a soft laugh, you turned back to the counter, placing an order for both with tea for yourself and coffee for Logan. As the barista rang you up, you stepped aside to wait. You didn’t immediately notice the little boy lingering near the door until he spoke.

"Excuse me," he said in a tiny, trembling voice.

You turned to see him standing there, his wide brown eyes full of uncertainty. He couldn’t have been more than five. His clothes were neat but slightly wrinkled, and he clutched a little Star Wars backpack to his chest like a lifeline.

"Hi there," you said gently, crouching down so you were closer to his level. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "I c-can’t find my aunt and uncle," he stammered. "They were here, and then I… I couldn’t see them anymore."

Logan was at your side in an instant, his tall, broad frame towering over both of you. Despite his intimidating presence, his voice was calm and steady. "Hey, kiddo. What’s your name?"

"Peter," the boy whispered, sniffling.

You gave Peter a kind smile. "Okay, Peter, my name’s Y/N, and this is Logan. We’re going to help you find them, alright?"

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack tightening. You straightened up, glancing at Logan. "Should we check inside the other stores? Maybe they didn’t realize he got separated."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. Let’s start close by."

For the next twenty minutes, you and Logan moved between shops, asking employees and passersby if they’d seen anyone searching for a lost child. Peter clung to your hand the entire time, his little fingers wrapped tightly around yours.

When it became clear his aunt and uncle weren’t nearby, you crouched down again to look him in the eyes. "Peter, do you remember their phone number? Or maybe where they were parked?"

He shook his head, biting his lip. "No. I don’t remember. Are they mad at me?"

"Not at all," you assured him quickly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Sometimes these things just happen. We’ll figure it out."

"We can call the cops, get them to put out a message," Logan suggested softly, leaning on the wall beside you.

You hesitated, noting how small and nervous Peter looked at the mention of police. Something about the idea didn’t sit right with you either. "Let’s try one more thing," you said. "Peter, do you want to come with us for a little while? We can go to a safe place until we find your aunt and uncle."

Peter’s gaze flicked between you and Logan. After a long pause, he nodded, his lower lip quivering again. "Okay."

Logan reached down, easily scooping Peter up and settling him on his hip. The boy’s small hands clung to Logan’s jacket as you both headed back to the car. On the way to the mansion, Peter’s initial shyness melted away just a little. You kept him distracted with stories about your favorite bakery treats and promises to show him your time bubble powers when you got home.

---

When you arrived at the mansion, Peter stared wide-eyed at the enormous house. "Whoa," he whispered, twisting to look at you. "Do you live here?"

"Yep," you said, taking his hand to guide him toward the entrance. "It’s like a big school. But it’s also kind of like one giant family."

"And you’re a teacher?" Peter asked, glancing curiously at your glasses.

"That’s right," you said with a small smile. "I teach physics. That’s like science and math together."

“Oh, I like physics! And I watch Star Wars with my Uncle Ben all the time!” Peter said, his eyes lighting up for the first time since you met him.

Your heart softened at the boy’s excitement, a smile creeping across your face despite the weight of the past few months. “Yeah? What’s your favorite part?”

Peter adjusted his little Iron Man backpack and said without hesitation, “When Luke fights Darth Vader, and then—then at the end, he saves his dad!” He blinked up at you eagerly. “Do you like Star Wars?”

“Like it?” you said with a mock gasp, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “I love Star Wars. Especially Empire Strikes Back. Do you know that one?”

Peter nodded, practically bouncing in place. “That’s the one with the snow! And Yoda! But the Darth Vader part was scary.”

Logan, who had been quiet while Peter rambled, glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a little fan,” he murmured.

You nudged Logan gently with your elbow before returning your attention to Peter. “It is a little scary,” you admitted. “But that’s what makes it so good—it surprises you. And Darth Vader turning good later? That’s pretty amazing too.”

Peter nodded sagely, as if your approval was the only confirmation he needed. He glanced toward the enormous doors of the mansion again. “Do you have any Star Wars stuff in there?”

Before you could answer, Logan chuckled. “Darlin’, don’t even get him started, or you’re gonna have him camped out in your lecture hall for the next week.”

You shot Logan a teasing glare but ruffled Peter’s hair. “Actually, I’ve got some posters and a little Yoda figure on my desk. Want to see?”

Peter’s face brightened. “Yes, please!”

The boy’s newfound enthusiasm made your chest tighten in an unexpectedly familiar way. You led the way into the mansion, Logan trailing closely behind as Peter’s little hand stayed tightly clasped in yours.

---

Once inside, Peter was immediately wide-eyed, craning his neck to take in the grand ceilings and marble floors. “This place is huge,” he whispered in awe.

“It is,” you agreed. “But you’ll get used to it fast.”

As you moved toward your office, Logan leaned in and asked quietly, “you sure this is the best way to handle this, sweetheart?”

You glanced at Peter, who was now marveling at a painting on the wall. His little hand hadn’t let go of yours once since you’d found him. “He’s scared,” you whispered back. “This helps distract him until we can figure everything out.”

Logan gave you a long look, something tender flickering in his expression. “You’re good with him,” he murmured.

You looked away, your face warming. “I’m just... trying to help.”

When you arrived at your office, Peter gasped at the sight of the little Yoda figurine on your desk. “He’s so cool!” he exclaimed, running to inspect it closer. His awe made you laugh softly, and for the first time in a while, it felt natural.

Peter was chattering about his favorite lightsaber battles when Jean appeared in the doorway. She looked between you, Peter, and Logan, her brow furrowed slightly. “New recruit?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Not exactly,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms.

Peter ran up to Jean without hesitation. “Hi! I’m Peter! And I’m here because I lost my aunt and uncle at the bakery!”

Jean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” she said softly, crouching to meet his gaze. “Well, hi, Peter. I’m Jean. And I’m sure we’re going to find your family soon, okay?”

Peter nodded quickly, his little hands still gripping the straps of his Star Wars backpack. “Okay,” he whispered, but his voice wavered, betraying the fear he was trying to keep at bay.

Jean glanced up at you and Logan, her expression laced with concern. “Have you called the local precinct yet?”

“Not yet,” Logan said, crossing his arms. “Kid didn’t look too thrilled when I mentioned it. Figured we’d keep him calm first, then call it in.”

You crouched down beside Jean, meeting Peter’s wide eyes. “Hey, Peter, do you want to hang out here for a little bit? We’ve got snacks, a big TV, and even a pool table if you’re into that.”

Peter hesitated, his gaze darting between you, Logan, and Jean. “You’re not leaving, right?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said firmly, his voice a reassuring rumble. “We’re stickin’ with you, kid.”

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack loosening just a fraction. “Okay.”

Jean rose and gestured subtly for you and Logan to follow her into the hall. You gave Peter a quick smile. “We’ll be right back, okay? Just stay here and make yourself comfortable.”

When you stepped into the hallway, Jean folded her arms and kept her voice low. “He seems pretty attached to you two already.”

“He’s scared out of his mind,” you said quietly, glancing back toward the office. “And honestly, I don’t blame him.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” Jean said, her brow furrowing. “There’s something familiar about him. I can’t quite place it.”

Logan shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. What’s the plan?”

Jean sighed, her expression softening. “I’ll go call the precinct, let them know we’ve got Peter here. If he’s reported missing, they’ll already be looking for him.”

“Good idea,” you said, your voice heavy with thought. “And I’ll stay with him, keep him calm.”

Logan gave you a look, his eyes soft but serious. “You sure you’re up for that?”

You nodded, pushing back the knot forming in your chest. “Yeah. He needs someone right now.”

Jean looked between the two of you, a flicker of understanding passing over her face. “Alright. I’ll handle the call.”

Logan followed you back into the office, where Peter had perched himself in your chair, spinning it slowly while inspecting the Yoda figurine on your desk. He looked up as you entered, his small face brightening just a little.

“You’re back!” he said, holding up the figurine. “I like this guy.”

“Me too,” you said with a soft laugh, settling into the chair beside him. “Yoda’s the best, isn’t he?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “He’s really smart. And he talks funny.”

Logan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. Despite the situation, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“So,” you said, leaning forward on your desk, “what do you think? Want to stay here for a bit? We’ve got a whole library full of books, some even about space and Star Wars stuff.”

Peter’s eyes lit up again. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, your heart warming at his enthusiasm. “I can show you later if you want.”

“Okay!” Peter said, his voice a little stronger now. He glanced toward Logan. “Are you staying too?”

Logan nodded, his voice gruff but gentle. “Yeah, kid. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Peter seemed reassured by that, and for the first time since you found him, he smiled—a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

As the minutes ticked by, the weight in your chest softened just a little. You didn’t know what Peter’s story was or how long it would take to reunite him with his family, but for now, he was safe. And that was enough.

---

As the day turned into night, Peter sat cross-legged on the carpet of the mansion’s rec room, playing Go Fish! with Kitty and Rogue. His laughter bubbled up every so often, filling the space with a warmth that made you smile despite the tension that lingered just below the surface. Logan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his watchful eyes rarely leaving the boy.

Jean entered quietly, her expression softer than before as she approached. “I spoke to the precinct,” she said, keeping her voice low. “His aunt and uncle are on their way. They’ll be here within the hour.”

A knot in your chest loosened slightly, though it didn’t disappear entirely. “That’s good,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back to Peter. “At least he won’t have to stay scared for much longer.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked to you for a moment, and then back to the boy.

Jean stepped closer, her tone gentler now. “Y/N, you’re really good at this.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a faint smile. “Good at what?”

“At being what he needs right now,” she said simply, glancing toward Logan as if daring him to argue.

“Yoda would call it ‘parenting,’” Logan rumbled dryly, but there was no edge to his voice.

“Funny,” you shot back lightly, though the way his words curled into your heart was anything but.

Jean smiled knowingly and then excused herself to check on Peter’s room arrangements, leaving the two of you alone in the doorway.

“She’s right, though,” Logan said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Kid’s been through hell today, and somehow, you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady.”

You crossed your arms, glancing at him. “I think it’s less me and more Yoda,” you joked, but the slight tremor in your voice gave you away.

Logan tilted his head, his piercing gaze holding yours. “Darlin’, it’s you. Don’t doubt that.”

A warmth you didn’t entirely know how to handle spread through your chest. “I just…” You paused, your fingers brushing your glasses. “I remember being Peter’s age and needing someone to make me feel safe. My grandma did that for me. Maybe I just… want to be that for him.”

Logan’s expression softened, his features shadowed by the rec room’s low lighting. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You are.”

You blinked up at him, your chest tight in a way that was both painful and comforting.

Kitty’s sudden exclamation broke the quiet moment. “Peter! You’re totally cheating!”

“I am not!” Peter squealed, clutching his cards to his chest and grinning wide.

“Are too!” Rogue teased, flicking a card toward him.

You turned back to Logan, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile. “He’s resilient, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed, his gaze softening as he watched Peter. “More than most adults I’ve met.”

Before you could say anything, the familiar sound of a car approaching the mansion echoed from outside. You glanced toward the window, spotting headlights cutting through the night.

“That must be them,” you said, your heart tightening again.

Logan pushed off the doorframe. “Stay with him. I’ll meet ’em.”

You hesitated. “Logan—”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but firm, “trust me. I’ll bring ’em up. You just keep him calm.”

Something in his tone settled the whirlwind in your chest, and you nodded, turning back to Peter and the girls.

---

Peter glanced up as Logan led a man and woman into the room, their faces pale and eyes red-rimmed. “Peter!” the woman exclaimed, rushing forward and dropping to her knees in front of him.

His wide brown eyes blinked in surprise before lighting up with relief. “Aunt May!”

You stepped back, letting Peter and his aunt share a tearful embrace while Logan lingered near the doorway, watching. You felt your throat tighten as his uncle crouched to hold him too, whispering something you couldn’t hear.

May looked up at you, her eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He’s a special kid. I’m just glad we could help.”

Logan’s quiet presence at your side grounded you, his arm brushing yours in a way that let you know he was there. Peter looked over at you, still holding onto May’s hand. “Will I get to see you again?”

Your heart cracked just slightly at his question. “You bet, Peter,” you said softly. “Anytime.”

Logan nodded toward the door. “Let’s give ’em some time, darlin’.”

You followed him out into the hallway, lingering by the door as you listened to Peter chatter to his aunt and uncle about Yoda and Go Fish!

---

Logan was already in bed, sketching something in his notebook as you sat down by his side, your nightgown bunching around your thighs.

You put your head on Logan’s shoulder, your glasses riding up slightly as you watched him sketch. His pencil moved fluidly over the paper, and though you couldn't quite make out what he was working on, you could see it was intricate—full of tiny details only he could capture so effortlessly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content in the shared silence, but Logan wasn’t one to miss when something was on your mind. He paused his sketching and looked over at you, his warm voice breaking the quiet.

“What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your nightgown. You knew he’d notice eventually—he always did. Taking a breath, you lifted your gaze to his face, his expression open and patient.

"I was just thinking about Peter… and his aunt and uncle," you admitted softly. "How relieved they were to see him. He means everything to them."

Logan nodded, his hand brushing lightly against your knee. “Kid’s lucky to have family like that.” He studied you for a beat, his gaze sharp but gentle, the way it always was when it came to you. “That ain’t all you’re thinkin’ about, though.”

You swallowed, your heart quickening. He always managed to cut right to the heart of things, but he never pushed—not until you were ready.

"No," you said finally, your voice quiet. "It’s not."

Logan put the pencil down on the bedside table, his attention fully on you now. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

You played with the hem of your gown again, gathering your thoughts. “It’s been seven months,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Since we lost…” You didn’t have to say the words—Logan’s hand was already wrapping around yours, steady and grounding.

“I know,” he said softly, the rasp in his voice turning gentle for you.

A lump formed in your throat, but you pushed through it. “Taking care of Peter, seeing how much he means to May and Ben… it just… it made me wonder if maybe… maybe I’m ready to try again.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he shifted, turning to face you more fully, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I ain’t gonna lie, darlin’. It scares me, what you went through. What we went through. Don’t want you hurting like that again.”

“I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I’m scared, too. But I keep thinking about what it felt like to be pregnant—how it felt to think about a future with a little one. Our little one. I… I think I want to try again. Not right away, but maybe soon?”

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his eyes softer now, filled with something that looked like both hope and worry. "Soon," he echoed. "We take it slow this time. No rushin’, no pushin’ ourselves too hard. Deal?"

You smiled faintly, blinking back tears as you nodded. “Deal.”

Logan pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll get there, Y/N. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, Logan holding you as if to shield you from all the pain and uncertainty. And for once, you let yourself believe it might be okay.

---

During Christmas break, Logan surprised you by taking you to a cabin in Upstate New York, apparently it’s one Charles owns but rarely uses.

You had suggested going to a Christmas tree farm to find a tree, and Logan had immediately agreed, despite the snow piling up in Upstate New York. His only condition? “We’re not getting one of those scrawny ones,” he’d said, crossing his arms as you both bundled up to head out. “I want one that’ll make the cabin smell like Christmas exploded in it.”

Now, you stood in a clearing surrounded by evergreens, your breath visible in the crisp winter air. Logan’s gloved hand was warm as it enveloped yours, his other hand holding an old-fashioned ax slung over his shoulder.

“What about that one?” you asked, pointing to a modest tree that seemed the perfect height for the cabin’s living room. Its branches were full, the green vibrant against the white snow.

Logan tilted his head, giving the tree a scrutinizing look. “It’s not bad,” he admitted, but then his gaze drifted further into the rows of trees. “But look at that monster over there.”

Following his line of sight, your eyes landed on a tree that was practically a skyscraper. You laughed, your breath puffing out in clouds. “Logan, that’s not going to fit through the door.”

His lips quirked in a grin, the kind that made your chest warm even in the biting cold. “Could cut it down to size.”

You shook your head, pulling him back toward the smaller tree. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. Besides, this one’s cute.”

Logan grumbled something under his breath about “cute trees,” but his smile stayed as he set the ax down. “Alright, darlin’. You win.”

Watching him chop down the tree was like stepping into a Christmas card. Logan moved with ease, his strength controlled but impressive, the sharp crack of the wood splitting echoing in the quiet forest. When he finally hefted the tree over his shoulder, he glanced at you with a smirk.

“Still think it’s cute?”

You grinned. “Very.”

---

Back at the cabin, you were in the kitchen setting up hot cocoa while Logan worked on securing the tree in its stand. The smell of pine was already filling the space, mingling with the scent of the cocoa you were stirring on the stove.

“Need help?” you called, peeking around the corner to see Logan wrestling with the tree.

He shot you a playful glare. “I got it. But if this thing falls, it’s your cute tree’s fault.”

Biting back a laugh, you brought two mugs to the living room just as Logan stepped back, hands on his hips, to admire his handiwork. The tree stood proudly, its branches brushing the cabin’s low ceiling.

“Not bad,” you said, handing him a mug. “You do good work.”

Logan took a sip, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “You just like bossin’ me around.”

“Someone has to,” you teased, leaning into his side.

The evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You strung lights while Logan hung ornaments, occasionally passing one to you with a quip about how your “little nerd hands” needed the practice. By the time you finished, the tree glowed softly, casting the room in a warm light.

Settling onto the couch with Logan, you pulled a blanket over both of you, your glasses slipping slightly as you rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a lightbulb warming up on the tree.

“Think we’ll do this next year?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the cozy stillness.

Logan turned his head, his lips brushing your temple. “Next year, the year after that… as many years as you want, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing over his knuckles where they rested on your knee. “I like the sound of that.”

Logan kissed your hair, his voice soft but firm. “Me too.”

---

The two of you had ventured out into Victor to buy a few gifts at the mall. Logan, for a brief period of time, had said he had to “find somethin’” and “not to worry your pretty head ‘bout it”. Which was fine, you were in a clothing store picking out a few items for Jean and Ororo for Christmas, even finding a simple dark red plaid dress you thought would be good for Christmas day, even if it was just you and Logan.

When the two of you made it back to the cabin, Logan started the fire while you unpacked your shopping bags and started wrapping gifts on the small coffee table in the living room. You glanced up occasionally to see him adjusting the logs in the fireplace, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, highlighting his forearms.

“I wanted to show you something,” you said softly after a while, tying a ribbon around a small package meant for Ororo. Logan grunted his acknowledgment, dusting his hands as he stood and glanced over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“Give me a minute,” you said, standing with the red plaid dress draped over your arm as you walked toward the bedroom. You returned a few minutes later, smoothing the fabric down nervously.

Logan turned, his brow lifting slightly when he saw you. His intense gaze softened as it trailed over you, taking in the way the dress hugged your figure just right. “Well, look at you,” he rumbled, crossing his arms. “That’s a damn good dress.”

“Not too much?” you asked shyly, adjusting your glasses as you stood there, your cheeks warming.

“Too much? Nah, darlin’, it’s perfect,” he said, stepping closer and tugging gently at your waistline. “You got a knack for makin’ things look better than they deserve.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Thanks for the help, Logan.”

He chuckled but took a step back, his smirk hinting at something as he reached into the bag he’d brought back from the mall. “Speakin’ of things lookin’ good...” He handed you a small paper bag with tissue peeking out from the top.

Curious, you peeked inside, pulling out the soft, red lace of what was unmistakably lingerie. You stared for a moment before bursting out laughing, your cheeks burning even hotter.

“This,” you managed between giggles, holding it up by the delicate straps, “this is what you went off to find?”

Logan leaned against the edge of the couch, entirely unbothered by your reaction. His grin spread slowly as he shrugged. “Figured you’d like it. Or maybe I just wanted to see you in it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’m more curious about you buying it. Did you actually go into one of those stores?”

“Yup,” he said without hesitation, his smirk widening. “Gal behind the counter said this was ‘popular.’ I figured, why not?”

“Why not?” you repeated, laughing harder.

His tone turned teasing as he nodded toward the bedroom. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see if it’s as good as the lady said.”

You hesitated, eyeing the lingerie before glancing at him. “You’re something else, Logan.”

“Damn right, I am.” He gave you a light swat on the backside as you turned toward the bedroom, his grin feral but amused.

“Logan!” you yelped, laughing as you scampered off to change.

---

A few minutes later, you stepped out of the bedroom, clutching the edge of the sheer, flowy skirt of the babydoll dress nervously. The delicate red lace and corset-style detail fit perfectly, the bow at the top adding an unexpected sweetness to the undeniably daring outfit. Your glasses slid down your nose slightly as you met Logan’s gaze.

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes darkening as they raked over you from head to toe. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice rougher, deeper. “That’s... yeah, that was worth it.”

You laughed softly, trying to ignore how his reaction sent heat pooling in your stomach. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze lifting to yours, a crooked grin softening the intensity. “But I know what I like.”

Your nervousness melted under the weight of his appreciation, and you crossed the room toward him. He didn’t move, waiting until you were within reach to hook an arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

Logan’s lips pressed against yours with a slow, deliberate heat, his hands still spread over the sheer fabric of the babydoll dress. His roughened palms seemed impossibly gentle as they slid along your sides, brushing the soft material and igniting a warmth that pooled low in your belly.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a rumble that made your knees weak. One hand moved to your waist, tugging you closer, while the other ghosted over the delicate lace at the hem of the dress, sending shivers up your spine.

“Logan,” you began, your voice soft but teasing as you started to reach for the straps of the dress. “Let me just—”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted, catching your wrist gently and lowering your hand. His grin was playful but commanding, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re keepin’ this on.”

“Why?” you asked, though the way his eyes darkened made your pulse quicken.

“Because I said so,” he drawled, one hand trailing lower to the garter strap on your thigh. His fingers slipped under it briefly before he let it snap back lightly against your skin. You yelped, a startled laugh bubbling out of you, and he smirked.

“Logan!”

“What? Feels like it’s got its uses,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He pressed a kiss to your jawline, then down the curve of your neck, nipping lightly as he went. “Plus, you look too damn good in it to take it off right away.”

You huffed a small laugh, but any retort you might have had died in your throat as his lips reached the base of your neck, lingering there. His hand wandered back to your waist, slipping beneath the flowy fabric to grip your hip, his thumb brushing the bare skin there.

“Logan,” you murmured again, a breathless edge to your tone this time.

“Hmm?” he answered, his mouth now teasing along your collarbone. He was thoroughly enjoying taking his time, and it showed in the satisfied little growl that rumbled in his chest when your fingers tangled in his hair.

Before you knew it, he was guiding you backward toward the couch, his lips never leaving your skin. When the backs of your knees hit the cushions, he gave you a gentle push to sit down.

“Right here, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hands eased your legs apart as he knelt in front of you, the sheer skirt of the dress pooling around your thighs. The firelight flickered behind him, casting a warm glow over the room and making his features even sharper, more intense.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you teased, though the way your breath hitched when he leaned in betrayed your composure.

“Damn right,” he muttered. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss just above one of the garters. “Now, let me take my time, yeah?”

You nodded, your glasses slipping down your nose as you watched him. His hands slid higher, pushing the sheer fabric up slightly, exposing more of you to his touch. His lips followed, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh that had you squirming beneath him.

“Logan...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, glancing up at you with a devilish grin. His fingers gripped the lace at your hips, holding you steady as he pressed another kiss against you, this time over the delicate fabric of your panties. The heat of his mouth sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your head fell back against the couch with a soft gasp.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he finally hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid them down your legs. The cool air hit you briefly, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his breath as he settled between your thighs again.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all damn day,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to your bare skin. His tongue followed, slow and deliberate, drawing a shaky moan from your lips.

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch as his tongue worked against you, his movements unhurried but precise. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you breathed, your fingers finding their way into his hair. He groaned at the contact, the sound vibrating against you and making your toes curl.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. When your hips bucked against him, he growled softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and filled with need. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body arching off the couch as the tension inside you snapped. He didn’t stop until you were trembling beneath him, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to recover.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was smug, but his eyes were soft as he looked up at you. “Worth every damn minute in that store,” he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the lingering shudders of your release making your thighs tremble. Logan gave one last playful nip at your inner thigh before rising to his feet in one smooth motion. He loomed over you for a moment, his gaze drinking you in, the sheer red fabric of the babydoll dress bunched slightly around your hips, your skin flushed and glistening.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands sliding under your arms as he pulled you to sit up. Before you could fully process the movement, he dropped onto the couch and tugged you onto his lap, guiding your legs to straddle him.

“Logan—”

“Uh-uh,” he cut you off, his hands firm on your hips as he adjusted you to his liking. “You’re stayin’ right here, sweetheart.”

The rough denim of his jeans pressed against your bare thighs, the contrast making you hyper-aware of every point of contact. Logan’s hands roamed over you, one sliding up your back while the other traced the hem of the dress where it barely covered your hips. His touch was possessive, deliberate, his fingers flexing as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you.

“Y’know,” he drawled, his voice thick with heat as his lips found your collarbone, “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you wearin’ this since I saw it on the rack.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled out of you. “You didn’t even let me look at it when you came back,” you teased, your fingers finding their way to his hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned at the sensation, his teeth grazing your skin just below your jaw. “Damn right I didn’t. Knew it’d be perfect. And look at you now.” His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and rocking you against him, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, giving himself more room to work. His mouth trailed lower, over the curve of your breast, and he nipped lightly through the lace of the dress. The sensation made you jolt, a mix of pleasure and surprise, and his low chuckle vibrated against your skin.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice a mix of frustration and need as his teeth scraped over the delicate fabric again.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence as his tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive skin beneath. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Before you could respond, his hands slid up your sides, pushing the fabric of the dress higher until it bunched just below your chest. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands were back on you in an instant, one sliding behind your back to pull you closer while the other cupped your breast through the lace. His thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, and you shuddered, your breath hitching.

“You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he said, his voice a rough growl as he leaned in to capture your lips again. The kiss was messy, desperate, his teeth catching your lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth, claiming you completely.

“Logan,” you gasped when he finally pulled back, your head spinning. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he shifted beneath you. The unmistakable hardness pressing against you made your pulse race.

“Need you,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent. “Right fuckin’ now.”

You nodded, your hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers trembled slightly as you worked them open, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. He shrugged out of the fabric impatiently, tossing it aside before his hands returned to your hips.

“Keep the dress on,” he reminded you, his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through you.

“I wasn’t planning to take it off,” you replied, a small smirk playing at your lips.

He groaned, his hands tightening on you. “Good,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck again as he began to guide you against him. The rough denim of his jeans added a delicious friction that had you both gasping.

Your hands found his belt, fumbling slightly as you unbuckled it and tugged it free. Logan’s lips never left your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as you worked to free him from the confines of his jeans. When you finally succeeded, he groaned, his hips lifting slightly to help you push them down.

“Goddamn tease,” he muttered, his voice thick with need as he lifted you slightly, positioning you over him.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, though your teasing tone faltered as you felt him press against you.

He didn’t reply, too focused on guiding you down onto him. The stretch was intense, stealing the breath from your lungs as he filled you completely. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

You couldn’t form words, your hands bracing against his chest as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. Logan’s hands moved to your thighs, his thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Take your time,” he murmured, though his voice was strained with the effort of holding himself back.

After a moment, you began to move, your hips rocking tentatively at first. Logan’s groan spurred you on, his hands guiding your movements as you found a rhythm that had you both gasping.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Just like that.”

Your movements started slow, each roll of your hips deliberate, drawing quiet groans from Logan as he leaned back against the couch. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, his touch grounding you as you adjusted to the rhythm. The soft material of the babydoll dress clung to your skin, the sheer fabric shifting with every motion.

Logan’s eyes burned as he watched you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Fuck, darlin’,” he rasped. “You’re somethin’ else.”

Your hands rested on his chest, your fingers splayed across his warm, scarred skin. His muscles tensed beneath your touch each time your hips shifted, his breaths turning into low, guttural sounds. Every inch of him felt alive beneath you, responding to your every move.

As your confidence grew, so did the pace, your movements becoming more fluid. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to leave an impression. He groaned your name, the sound rough and needy, and the way it rolled off his tongue sent heat pooling low in your belly.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. Your hips rocked faster, and Logan’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep control. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he began to move with you. He thrust upward, his movements deep and deliberate, meeting you halfway and sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers curled against his chest, nails digging into his skin as he set a faster pace.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands keeping you steady as he thrust harder. The couch creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. His movements became more urgent, his breathing harsh against your ear as he pulled you closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern. His eyes flicked up to yours, searching your face.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he moved again, deeper this time. “Uh-huh,” you managed, the word spilling from your lips without thought. Your head fell forward, resting against his shoulder as you clung to him, your body trembling with each thrust.

Logan’s hands moved to your back, sliding beneath the thin straps of the dress to hold you against him. Your chests pressed together, the heat of his skin searing against yours. His lips found your neck, trailing rough kisses along your pulse point before biting gently. The combination of pain and pleasure made you gasp, your nails raking down his sides.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin. His hips snapped upward with more force, each thrust dragging a whimper from your lips. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

The words sent a shiver through you, your thighs trembling as you tried to keep up with his pace. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your back as he shifted beneath you. He leaned forward, pressing you down against him until you could feel every inch of him, his movements driving deeper.

“Logan,” you whispered again, your voice cracking as his name fell from your lips like a prayer. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he swallowed your moans.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips. He shifted, pulling you down harder as he thrust up, his movements relentless. The friction and heat built between you, each motion sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back, a soft cry escaping your lips as he hit a spot that sent your body arching against him. Logan growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he moved faster, his grip on you firm and unyielding.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let go for me.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The tension that had been building snapped, your body shuddering as you reached your peak. Logan groaned, his movements slowing just enough to let you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands soothing over your trembling thighs. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

You clung to him, your breaths coming in short, shaky gasps as you tried to recover. Logan pressed soft kisses to your temple, his grip on you loosening just slightly as he gave you a moment to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Logan shifted beneath you, his hands sliding to your thighs as he lifted you slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with raw need.

“You good?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

You nodded, your fingers brushing his cheek. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathless but sure.

He grinned, a wolfish expression that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

With that, he shifted again, guiding you to lie back against the couch. The babydoll dress bunched around your waist, the sheer fabric clinging to your flushed skin. Logan loomed over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

His hips moved again, slower this time but no less intense. Each thrust was deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Every damn part of you.”

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. Logan groaned against your lips, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove deeper, each thrust pulling a moan from your lips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he pushed you to the edge again. His name was the only thing you could manage, your thoughts consumed by the overwhelming sensation of him.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice strained but steady. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And with one final thrust, you did, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan followed moments later, his groan low and rough as he buried himself deep, his body trembling against yours.

For a moment, the only sound was the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan stayed over you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His hands moved to your waist, his touch gentle as he smoothed over your skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with quiet concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight tonight.”

---

After waking up late the next day—only because Logan stuck to his word—you had made homemade banana bread that would have to cook for around 45 minutes before it was done.

While you waited, you decided to try something new. Logan was in the shower, and you knew his routine well enough to guess he’d be done soon. A flicker of boldness lit up inside you. Without second-guessing, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving them in a heap by the door. You placed your glasses carefully on the dresser—everything was a little blurry now, but it didn’t matter.

Quietly, you padded across the floor to the bathroom, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. The air was warm and humid, the sound of water cascading against tiles filling the room.

Logan was standing under the spray, head tilted back, water streaming down his broad shoulders and muscled back. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the tiles. Steam curled around you, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him.

“Darlin’, you forget somethin’?” Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t turn around, but you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You froze for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “Maybe I just wanted to join you,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

Logan turned slightly, enough to glance over his shoulder at you. His gaze flicked over your body, and his smirk widened. “Not that I’m complainin’, but what’s got you sneakin’ in here?”

You stepped closer, reaching out to brush your fingers against his arm. “Can I… do something?” you asked softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The question hung in the air, the intimacy of it sending a spark through both of you.

Logan’s eyes darkened, his grin fading into something more serious. He turned fully, the water flattening his hair against his forehead. “You don’t gotta ask,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You dropped to your knees on the wet tiles, the water spraying against your back as you settled in front of him. Logan’s sharp inhale was the only sound for a moment. He reached down, his fingers brushing your cheek as he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and heat.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his arousal was clear.

You nodded, your hands already sliding up his thighs. “I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. You weren’t nervous because of him—you’d done this before—but there was something thrilling about the spontaneity of it.

Logan groaned softly as your hands moved higher, his muscles tensing under your touch. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he muttered, his head tilting back slightly as you began to explore him with your hands and mouth. The warmth of the shower and the slickness of the water added a new layer of sensation, and you could feel his body responding to every movement.

Your tongue flicked over him, testing, teasing, before taking him fully. Logan’s hand found its way into your hair, not guiding but grounding himself as a low growl rumbled from his chest. His hips shifted slightly, his restraint palpable as you worked him slowly, thoroughly, letting the heat and steam build between you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Logan groaned, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

You glanced up at him, your vision a little blurry without your glasses, but you could still see the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut as he fought to keep control. His reaction spurred you on, your movements becoming more deliberate, more confident.

“You’re so damn good at this,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Always know how to take care of me.”

Your hands gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as you continued, the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. Logan’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he murmured your name, a low, reverent sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

When he finally tugged you gently back, his chest was heaving, his eyes dark and intense. “C’mere,” he said, his voice a rough command that you couldn’t ignore.

You stood slowly, water dripping down your body as Logan’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His mouth crashed against yours, hot and desperate, his hands roaming over your wet skin as the kiss deepened. The hunger in his touch was undeniable, but there was also a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Logan’s hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you easily. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he pressed you against the cool tile wall, the contrast of temperatures making you gasp. His lips moved to your neck, nipping and sucking as he positioned himself between your thighs.

You sighed his name, nails digging into his shoulders, the small crescent marks fading almost instantly. “I was s’pposed to—”

Logan cut you off, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “I know, sweetheart. But right now, I wanna be inside you.” His voice was rough, low, and the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he shifted his hips, pressing into you with a deliberate, maddening slowness. The heat of him, the thickness, made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your legs tightened around his waist. Logan’s eyes locked on yours, his gaze unwavering even through the steam curling around you both.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and tender. His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he sank deeper. “None of that holdin’ back shit. Just let it out.”

Your lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as he filled you completely. It had become a habit, one you hadn’t even realized—biting your lip, muffling your sounds against his skin, or burying them in kisses. You’d gotten used to keeping quiet, especially back at the mansion. Now, the vulnerability of letting go felt foreign and exhilarating.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice breaking as he began to move. The rhythm he set was slow but unrelenting, each thrust purposeful and deep. Your head fell forward against his shoulder, and you bit down lightly on his skin, trying to keep from being too loud.

Logan’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing against your temple. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with care. “You don’t have to be quiet. I wanna hear every damn sound.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though it was a struggle to let go of the ingrained instinct. When he angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside you, your head tilted back, and a sharp moan slipped free before you could stop it.

“That’s it,” Logan praised, his voice a low growl against your neck. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up. “Goddamn, darlin’. You feel so good.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the pleasure built. “Right there,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Feels so good.”

Logan grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing your jaw before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “Don’t stop talkin’ to me,” he muttered between kisses. “Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

Your legs tightened around his waist, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching into him. “So good,” you managed, your voice breaking as he thrust deeper. “Logan, please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips moving to your throat as he sucked lightly on the sensitive skin. His hips snapped upward, harder this time, and your nails raked down his back in response. “Use your words.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t ever stop.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that sent heat pooling in your belly. “Not a fuckin’ chance,” he promised, his pace quickening. Each thrust dragged a new sound from you, the intensity overwhelming in the best way.

But then the habit crept back in. As the sensations grew, you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan as your head fell forward against his shoulder. Logan noticed instantly, his movements slowing as his hand tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“None of that,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Don’t hide from me, Y/N. I wanna hear you. All of it.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. The apology was instinctive, but Logan wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice softer now. “Just let go, darlin’. No one else is here. It’s just us.”

His words broke down the last of your restraint. The next time he thrust into you, you let out a cry, your hands clutching at his shoulders as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan’s growl of approval only fueled the fire, his movements becoming rougher, more desperate as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

“Logan,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. The sound of it seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening as he drove deeper. Your vision blurred, not just from the missing glasses but from the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let it all out. Don’t hold back.”

You clung to him, your body trembling as you reached your peak, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless surges. Logan wasn’t far behind, his hips snapping one last time before he groaned deeply, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the steady spray of water and the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan’s hands softened their grip, sliding up to cradle your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

Logan chuckled, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he eased out of you, lowering you gently to your feet. Your legs were shaky, but he steadied you, his hands never leaving your waist.

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

You tried to meet his eyes, though you weren’t sure if you did or not, while giving a small pout. “But the banana bread is in the oven.”

His eyes widened for a moment before he turned off the shower, water still running down his face as he looked at you. “Well, don’t let me stop ya,” he said, though the twitch of a grin tugged at his lips, and his tone betrayed an unusual excitement.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “Are you—are you actually excited about banana bread right now?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing a towel from the hook. “I mean... it’s banana bread. Why wouldn’t I be excited?” His smirk turned mischievous as he turned back to face you, holding the towel open like a shield. “C’mon, sweetheart, outta the shower before I start thinkin’ you’re more fun than the bread.”

You snorted, water dripping from your hair as you stepped into his waiting towel. “Admit it, Logan. You’re acting like a kid waiting for dessert. I didn’t know you had such a thing for banana bread.”

Wrapping the towel snugly around your frame, he started to dry you off methodically, his calloused hands rubbing gentle circles against your arms through the soft fabric. “Ain’t just any banana bread—it’s your banana bread,” he said matter-of-factly, meeting your eyes briefly before going back to drying you off. “Gotta admit, though, you make the wait damn hard sometimes.”

The faint warmth of his compliment lingered as he continued his task. Logan’s attention was deliberate, unhurried, like he enjoyed every small moment between you. By the time he reached for another towel to gently dry your hair, you couldn’t help the grin pulling at your lips. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, giggling softly.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he teased, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before reaching for your glasses. He placed them on carefully, his fingers brushing against your temple. “There. Perfect.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re getting better at this, y’know.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning as he grabbed another towel to wrap around his waist. “Or maybe I just like seein’ you look all warm and cared for.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed one of the clothes bundles he’d laid out, already half-dressed himself as he guided you into a fresh pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt you recognized as his. The soft fabric hung loose around your frame, and you gave him a questioning glance as he smirked again.

“What? Looks good on ya,” he said with a shrug. “Now c’mon, let’s check on this banana bread you’re teasin’ me with.”

“Teasin’ you?” you repeated, laughing as you followed him back toward the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re the one making a big deal out of it.”

He looked over his shoulder at you as he walked. “Damn straight I am.”

When you reached the kitchen, the warm, sweet scent of the bread filled the small cabin. You moved to the counter to check on it, glancing over your shoulder when you heard him shift beside you. Logan stood close, resting a hand lightly against your lower back as you crouched to peek into the oven.

“I’m just sayin’,” he added, leaning casually against the counter, “whatever made you think to make this today? Keep it up, darlin’. You might just have me makin’ excuses to stay in more.”

You laughed as you stood, shaking your head at him. “Logan, you already hate leaving the cabin. What excuses do you need?”

He grinned and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple as he mumbled, “Good point. Still, if it’s you bakin’, I’ll take the extra reason.”

It was such a small moment—banter layered in the comfort of your daily life together—but standing there with his arm around you, your shared laughter filling the cabin, it was everything. Every piece of grief and hope between you felt quieter, a little easier to carry.

Logan remembered the hardest things about you, the pain of losing you five times before. Yet in moments like this, you made him feel like he was learning you anew each day—and damn if he wouldn’t keep trying for a hundred lives more.

that is 2008!

also here is the lingerie dress reader was wearing - i honestly don't know the mechanics of this dress, so if something was wrong in the scene, just ignore it pls😭

i wanted to write a shower scene because it's something i've never done before, but i'm aware it's a bit inaccurate for some people (as someone with wavy hair, shower sex would never happen unless it was wash day, and even then i'm exhausted after washing it. funnily enough today is wash day for me, so i gotta go-).

y'all know i'm a marvel/mcu fan at heart, so i couldn't resist throwing in a little peter parker! <3 (i'm also in love with tom holland and his fiance so...)

[steddieas-shegoes]

lone stars

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'ride'

rated m | 453 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: cowboy/western-ish au, eddie is a sweetheart, getting together, first kiss, lowkey horsegirl steve harrington

🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎

He's sipping on the last of his broth when he hears it.

It sounds like a group of people, heading right for his spot near the river. He didn't expect to get interrupted this late in the evening, most intelligent travelers knowing better than to continue walking in the forest after sundown.

He stands and starts to mount Grit, his horse since childhood, but is interrupted by a hand on his leg.

"Stay quiet."

The shadow of a person is standing close to him, long hair tied back in a low ponytail. His eyes are glowing, but nothing else about him stands out. He must be wearing all black.

That's never a good sign.

"Let go of me. I'm not standin' around to see if they're friend or foe," Steve whispers as he tries to jerk the reins so they can ride off into the night.

"They're neither, but they'll bother ya for days if they see ya," the man whispers back.

Steve pauses. "You got a horse to get outta here?"

The man shakes his head, and he's becoming a bit clearer as Steve's eyes adjust.

"Hop on. What's your name?"

"Eddie," he says as he hops up behind Steve. Grit huffs, but seems to understand that he shouldn't make any other noises. He's always been an attentive horse. "Where ya headin'?"

"Not sure yet. You?"

"Anywhere you're goin'."

Eddie's hard to shake.

Steve doesn't really try too hard.

They ride together for a few weeks, getting to know each other. Eddie's past is dark, but so is Steve's in its own way. They're both loners trying to find a place to call home, maybe find others to help them feel a little less lonely.

Eddie's funny, and charming, and tactile. He's unlike anyone Steve's been around before. Even as a child, his friends were more of the burly boys who didn't hug type, but Eddie always finds reasons to touch him, to reach out to comfort or keep him warm or show him joy that can't be contained in a smile or laugh alone.

Steve doesn't know why he does it. The fire is warm, the stars above are stunning, and Eddie looks like the sun.

He kisses him.

Eddie hesitates. Steve thinks about being killed here, hopes Eddie will at least care for Grit.

"You too?" Eddie asks, voice shaking with what seems like fear.

"I s'pose so," Steve shrugs.

Eddie kisses him, he strips him down, covers them both up with the sheet they picked up at a general store a week ago. They push and pull, touch and kiss. They find each other and themselves.

"Want this every night," Eddie gasps.

"Take it, then," Steve bites his shoulder.

[blazinbeautywrites]

Behind the Scenes

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me unless stated otherwise. Full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

A/N: Whew I'm a lil rusty and this is my first time writing for Aaron so please bare with me.

Summary: Aaron has fallen for his co-star and has a feeling she wants him to. A night out with his favorite girl reveals just how much tension has been built up between them.

Length: 2,498 words

Genre: Fluff (kinda), smut

Aaron was irritated. His car was late, a bird shit on him, and to top it all off, he had to drop out of a role he really wanted due to a scheduling conflict. But all these little inconveniences dissipated once he heard her laughter. Kiki Davis. His beautiful and talented co-star whom he had a little crush on. When they first met she was so warm and welcoming and he immediately felt comfortable in her presence. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her energy was quite the contrast to the dark, gory horror film they were starring in together. He began making his way to hair and makeup when he heard her sweet voice.

“Okay I see you buff daddy all big and shit in ya lil suit.” Kiki said, smiling big trying to hold back her laughter.

“Girl you play too much but you look good your damn self, spin around for me real quick.” Aaron said, staring down at her shorter frame. Kiki raised her eyebrow at his boldness. Usually he would give her a cute laugh and blush a bit but she enjoyed this more confident version of him. Doing as he asked, she began spinning, showing off her beautiful figure in her cute little dress. He couldn't help staring at her ass and the way it sat up so nice. All he wanted to do was lift her dress up and spank her. Kiki noticed the way he was looking at her and gave him a wide smile. She moved closer to him and as she felt her nipples slightly graze his chest she scaled her eyes from his wide chest, neck, lips, and finally his beautiful eyes.

“You know, if you wanted to see my ass, all you had to do was ask.” And with a wink and a smile she was gone, whisked back to hair and makeup. Aaron was stuck. His own assistant ushered him to his waiting room. He had no idea how the hell he was going to make it through this press junket.

************************

“It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen. The way they just kept slipping and sliding, it was never ending.” Kiki laughed as she recounted watching the stunt people coordinate a chase scene on set while having to run on a bloody floor. Aaron was so enamored with her he completely missed the interviewer asking him the same question.

“Aaron? You okay my man?” The interviewer laughed, causing the audience to giggle.

“Yeah, you okay Aaron?” Kiki teased. Aaron had to recover fast so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ummmm, I actually loved Kiki's fight scene. I feel like she gave it her all and it was nice watching how she mixed her karate and boxing training. It was really cool to watch her in her element.” Aaron said as he looked at Kiki and smiled. Kiki winked at him and that sent a shiver down his back.

“Of course you'd pick one of my scenes as your favorite. I expect nothing less from the man who's madly in love with me.” Kiki joked. The whole audience “ooooohed” and laughed at that. Aaron looked Kiki dead in the eyes, not backing down.

“And so what if I am? What then?” Aaron challenged. Kiki's smile dropped, expecting him to go shy or laugh off her flirting like he always does. She was not prepared for him to flirt back. Oh the stakes have definitely been raised.

“Oh Aaron. Trust me baby, you don’t want this smoke.” Kiki said. Aaron still wasn’t backing down.

“Kiki, Kiki, Kiki………..I want all the smoke.” He replied. The audience erupted in chaos after he said that. Aaron and Kiki stared each other down with a pure, intense lust.

“Is it me or is it getting hot in here?” The interviewer asks, earning some laughs from the audience. The interview continues with a little more light flirting and more on set anecdotes from Aaron and Kiki.  Once the interview was done, their assistants came to bring them backstage. Before Kiki can enter her dressing room, she turns to Aaron, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Sooooo some of us are going to the Moonlight Lounge. You wanna come?” Kiki asks.

“I’d love to. I have to stop home first but I’ll meet you all there.” Aaron said. Kiki watched him walk away and she knew she was in trouble. She also knew that she would definitely have a piece or at least a taste of that fine ass man, tonight.

*****************************

The Moonlight Lounge 9:02 pm

Some of the cast and crew were already a bit tipsy by the time Aaron arrived. He was amused seeing them all let their guard down. He saw Kiki and their other costar, Vanessa Leon, sitting by themselves talking and laughing. Vanessa saw Aaron before Kiki did and smirked whole making eye contact with him.

“And looked what the cat dragged in. Hey handsome.” Vanessa flirted, making Aaron smile.

“Hey V, see you've had a few drinks already.” Aaron chuckled. 

“Boy I've only had like 3 of these weak ass cocktails.” Vanessa said. Judging by her hiccups, he could tell that they were getting to her. After damn near falling over she excused herself to the restroom.

Aaron took a look at Kiki and almost lost his cool when they made eye contact. He appreciated the way her dress accentuated her curves and breasts. He could just imagine sucking on them while she rode him. 

“There you go staring off into space again. What's on your mind, pretty eyes?” Kiki asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how much I enjoyed working with you this past summer.” Aaron spoke. Kiki’s eyebrow rose and she gave him a wide smile.

"Awww I really enjoyed working with you too. You wanna get out of here? I’m kind of over this and I’m ready to take this dress off.” Kiki said. Aaron gave her a devilish smile and helped her to her feet. Just as they were about to walk out of the door, they saw Vanessa coming from the bathroom.

“Leaving so soon yall?” She asked.

“Yeah and maybe you should be heading out soon too V?” Kiki said.

“Oh girl I already called my man to come take my ass home.  I don’t know why I thought I could hang. I am not in my 20s anymore. But yall get home safe.” Vanessa replied.

After saying their goodbyes, Aaron led Kiki to his car. He opened his passenger door and helped her secure her seatbelt before getting in himself. He let her put her address in his navigation system and they headed to her house. After a 20 minute drive filled with sexual tension and light conversation, they’d arrived at her beautiful, secluded Los Angeles home. Aaron parked and quickly got out to open her car door. Kiki thanked him and began walking towards her gate, punching in the code. After opening her front door, Kiki let out a sigh of relief and took off her heels. Aaron followed suit, taking off his own shoes. He watched as she sashayed to her kitchen to grab them something to drink. He was so entranced by her ass that he didn’t hear her ask what he wanted to drink. 

“Aaron?” Kiki called out confused. He snapped out of it at the sound of her voice and made his way into the kitchen. He looked in her fridge and saw she had a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He grabbed it and let her direct him to her glass cabinet and he poured them each a glass. They stood in a comfortable silence and just stared each other down. Kiki had some wild ass thoughts floating in her head that made her giggle. She took a sip and relished in the sweet taste of the cool wine. Aaron raised a brown, intrigued by her little outburst. He moved closer to her, stopping just short of her smaller stature.

“And what’s so funny Ms. Davis? He teased. He invaded her personal space, once again admiring her dress and how it clung to her gorgeous figure. He moved a piece of her hair out of her face with his finger then slowly trailed his finger down her arm. 

Kiki was stuck. All she could do was stare at him wordlessly. She got lost in his eyes and before she realized what she was doing, she’d kissed him. She pulled back quickly, embarrassed she’d let herself lose control like that.

“Shit I’m so sor-.” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as Aaron pulled her against him and kissed her back. Kiki gasped out of shock and Aaron used that opportunity to introduce his tongue to hers. Kiki was tonguing him down and he loved how sloppy it was. He tested the waters and slid his hand down to her ass, giving it a light squeeze. Kiki moaned into the kiss, spurring him on. He now had both hands on her ass and was rubbing and squeezing her to his heart's content.

“See this ass right here....it's gon get you in trouble.” Aaron spoke against her lips. Without warning he slapped both of her cheeks so hard, she just knew that he’d leave marks.

“Hmmm do it again.” Kiki purred. Aaron was happy to oblige. He gave her what she wanted and Kiki almost collapsed into his arms. She was in a state of euphoria. Aaron realized he’d accidentally unveiled one of her kinks. He would definitely be using it to his advantage. “So you like to be spanked? Hmmmm.” Aaron playfully taunted. He was in heaven. He’d finally got to see what Ms. Kiki Davis was about and he was more than ready to show her what the fuck he was about. He picked her up and sat her on her kitchen island, careful not to knock over their forgotten glasses of wine. Kiki’s was burning up on the inside. This man had her feral as hell and she couldn’t wait to rip his clothes off. Aaron was just as needy and wasted no time in pulling down the front of her dress.

“Mmmm, imma enjoy these.” He said as he latched onto her left nipple. He played with her right as he flicked his tongue against her warm flesh. Her moans were music to his ears and he loved knowing it was him that had her feeling this way.

“Yeessssss fuck babyyyyyy.” Kiki moaned. She’d never had an orgasm from nipple stimulation but there’s a first time for everything. Aaron switched sides and gave her right nipple the same treatment as the left. Once he’d had his feel, he pulled back and gave her a once over.

“You really are fucking beautiful. I’m glad I finally got you alone.” He said as he dragged his hands down to her ankles and brought them up onto the counter. He held one leg in his hand and admired her pretty lavender painted toes. She felt like he was staring into her soul as he picked up her foot and planted soft kisses on her ankle. Without warning, Kiki felt a warm, wet sensation and watch as Aaron’s tongue swirled around her big toe. He moaned and she almost came right then and there. She was enjoying the feeling of his mouth on her so much that she hadn’t noticed that he’d raised her dress up a bit and was slipping his pointer finger in her underwear.

“Oh my fucking god.” Kiki whined as Aaron’s finger circled her clit. His movements were slow and calculated as he continued to suck on her toe. The dueling sensations had Kiki feeling like she was floating on a cloud. He added his middle finger to the mix and she began grinding up against him.

“Fuck you’re so damn wet. I can hear that pussy talking to me. I bet she tastes even better than she feels.” He praised. He pulled his fingers from her underwear and put them in his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored her taste. He dipped his fingers into her entrance and collected some of her juices. He brought his fingers to her mouth and watched as she licked her own essence from her fingers. He kissed her once more and as they kissed, Kiki could taste herself on his tongue. Aaron took his spit and cum covered fingers and circled them around her nippled. He sucked her nipple back into his mouth and cleaned up his mess. He gently nudged her backwards so she could lay down on the counter. She spread her legs and felt a cool breeze on her soaked underwear. Aaron effortlessly lifted her up and slid off her underwear. He wasted no time diving into her pussy. He licked a long stripe up her center and began eating her out like a starved neanderthal.

Kiki grabbed his head and grinded against his lips, chasing her orgasm. He was breaking her down in the best way and she couldn’t get enough.

“Right there right there right there-OH FUUUUCK.” Kiki screamed. Aaron moved back and watched as she squirted. He leaned down and caught some of her juices, drinking from her as if she was his personal water fountain. He watched as she made a mess all over her kitchen, smiling smugly at his handiwork. He rubbed her thighs, helping her come down from her high. Kiki was shook. That was one of her most powerful orgasms ever and it was all because of her fine ass co-star. 

“You good Ms. Davis?” Aaron asked her, still smiling at her.

“Nigga wipe that smug ass smile off you face and help me down.” Kiki said, amused that he was so impressed with himself. After being placed on the floor, she walked to her hall closet, grabbing a big towel to clean up her mess off of her island. She knew she’d have to deep clean but tonight was not the night for that. While she cleaned up the floor, Aaron grabbed her from behind, and held her against his body.

“You know I’m not done with you right?” He whispered into her ear. She smiled and turned around in his arms. She gave him a quick kiss then pulled him towards her living room.

“Oh I know. Now go sit down so I can eat that dick up.” Kiki commanded. Aaron obeyed her and sat down on her sofa and watched as she crawled to him, stopping just short of his legs. He could just tell that she’d devour him and he was prepared to go all night with her.

He finally got his leading lady.

[tsunodaradio]

pick your poison, babe (i'm poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of alcohol consumption. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life. 

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful. 

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching. 

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races. 

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless. 

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time. 

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there. 

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it. 

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself. 

He’s not nervous. 

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’. 

Nothing else. 

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill. 

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage. 

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!” 

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed. 

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you. 

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?” 

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much. 

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?” 

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh. 

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?” 

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!” 

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away. 

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries. 

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise. 

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night. 

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights. 

You’re radiant. 

It’s not fair. 

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.” 

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.” 

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs. 

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters. 

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…” 

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment. 

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either. 

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through. 

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?” 

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing. 

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much. 

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.  

Your shoulders press against each other. 

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to her harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

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[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

• Chapter 41

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers

Warnings: none !

Words: 3382

A/N: Thank you for all of your sweet messages. Everything is okay, I'm just more tired than usual. But I'll try and update soon again (sooner than almost two years that is sorry). Be kind to yourself, 🩷❄️🪽

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(open)

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

The drive was smooth, having Yoongi as the driver, the said man paying close attention in the traffic. Seoul was always busy, it seemed, and so the minivan took its sweet time going through the many roads.

As soon as they left the main city, driving through a more secluded area of snowy nature, your attention was no longer on the movie you tried to watch. Jungkook especially enjoyed it, it seemed, as the young alpha giggled and would tell you about fun facts connected to it. The one that sparked your attention the most was when he told you a small story about one of the actresses in the Hollywood film—she used to be a professional in kickboxing, yet after a big injury, she took on a completely different job as she became a successful stuntwoman and actress.

The soft music played throughout the speakers in the car as the packalpha fidgeted with a few of the controls on the touchscreen, finally settling for one of the omega-centred radio stations after the second oldest grumbled and threatened about falling asleep at the last one Namjoon chose.

The pack was calm, occasional chatter ringing through the large car. Jimin, the alpha sitting just in front of you in the middle of the row before yours, turned to you suddenly, a soft look in his eyes as he took in your form—soft cheeks barely visible in the puffer jacket, your fingers hidden behind the sleeves...you looked comfortable, just as any omega should.

„Princess, tonight some of us are doing a VLive; is that okay? Alpha wants to spend time with you, but he must talk to the Armies too.” The young man whispered, his arm reaching over the seat as his knuckles brushed against your blushy skin.

„You can still stay with the other alphas, cub; don't worry!” The eldest alpha was quick to reassure you, noting your unsure gaze. „And it won't be for too long anyway, hm? Just before we go to bed, okay princess…?” The alpha whispered, not only trying to reassure you but also himself.

You nodded softly, having the man sigh out gently. He wasn't too sure if you'd throw a fuss over him and probably one or two others taking longer to finally settle into (hopefully) another cute nest you'd make for them. Jimin wanted to spend time with his fans; he loved every second of doing so, but now that you'd entered their lives like a snowstorm, they were mostly concerned with you and your well-being.

As you looked out of the window, you gasped softly, having a few of the alphas look and swiftly turn around to look at you, as if there should be any danger—only to be met with your big, star-struck eyes looking out of the window as you almost fully leaned over Hobi's lap to see better.

The huge mountain range just before you rippled through the cold winter air, the snow covering the nature as it just came into view after the car drew up the high hill—it looked beautiful.

You never had much time at all to go skiing or even into winter resorts like the one you were all going to now, but you were excited. „It's pretty huge, isn't it, peaches?” The alpha before you whispered softly, his fond eyes stuck to your adorable expression, his heart aching—he just wanted you to stay this happy forever.

„Pup, sit up properly... alphas will get worried otherwise.” The pack alpha strictly said, watching you in the rearview mirror, just about to click his tongue again when you finally sat back up, sharing a short gaze with the intimidating man.

You couldn't watch the movie any longer, saying a soft „So-rry Kookie oppa...” after the man tried to get your attention again with it, and you watched out of the window instead.

Just as you started to get a bit antsy with how long the journey seemed to be taking, the older alpha to your right was quick to jump in, both of you giggling as you created a creative and funny-looking photo for an Instagram story of Jin before you, the said alpha asleep as Hobi cleverly leaned forward to snap a weird-angled photo of him before he sat with you, laughing louder and louder at each sticker you placed in the Instagram app.

You didn't post it, though, saving it to his gallery instead as the alpha mumbled, „Jin Hyung would kill us if we'd let Army see this!” making you giggle softly and nod along.

And before you knew it, the car was already slowing down, as Yoongi drove it towards the parking lot where you could already see many of the staff members with all sorts of equipment—cameras, different clothes on many racks, makeup stations, and all sorts of other things.

„Okay... Let's see about this...“ the second eldest mumbled to himself as he drove near the lifting barrier, letting the window go down to talk to the staff member and one of the security members Hybe had hired. It took only a second before they were allowed an entry, though, so the pack was quick to park.

With the youngest helping you out, you held his hand tightly as you all stepped amongst the snowy nature surrounding you. You felt slight worry cloud the back of your mind at the number of foreign scents around, and your other hand reached out to grasp the alpha's clothed shoulder, the man quick to look down from listening in to a nearby conversation Namjoon was having with another security guard.

„Babybun? What's wrong? Alpha is right here, hm?” He said softly, his hands running up and down your sides in comfort. You didn't respond, letting only a soft crease between your brows set at the slight unease of everything.

„Babycheeks? Here, look what I have taken for you, baby angel...” The other alpha was quick to flank you both as you unsurely looked around at the big number of people. With Taehyung taking your soft hands in his, he crouched before you, a big boxy grin on. He had just the thing that would surely make you feel better.

Just then you noticed one of the comfort companions they had gotten you a while back, the soft plush black lamb the alphas were so careful to scent for you. At your soft whimper, the alpha was quick to hand it over, your hand grasping it to yourself as you breathed in the pack's comforting scent. Leaning your head on the older alpha's shoulder, you watched as more and more staff approached all of you, leading the alphas towards one of the makeshift tents.

„Come on, kitty, let's go now. You can stay with alpha, hm?” You nodded at the man who came back from one of the stylists trying to usher him along, taking your hand in his as Jungkook combed his hands through your hair, his scent lingering as he left a small peck on your temple.

The snow underneath crunched comfortingly as you tucked the lamb into your pocket along with your hands, holding it tight in your fingers so it wouldn't slip out. Somehow you felt shy with all of the unknown people around; should they see your comfort companion... Or were you protective over it? You couldn't tell.

„Here, this is for the young miss...” An older man said as he rushed past the pack alpha, who walked only a few steps before you and Yoongi, handing the man a black lanyard with a card hanging from it, similar to the one he wore.

The pack alpha thanked her, bowing softly as he turned to you, smiling with his dimples showing. „Here, little pup, wear this so the alphas don't have to worry, hm?” You breathed softly as Namjoon placed the item around your neck, carefully pulling your hair out from being trapped underneath the tag as he smiled at you comfortingly.

You took a look at the plastic card, noticing the simple BTS logo on a black background. Flipping it over, you read the tag: VIP; Member of close family/friends; All entries permitted;

„Don't lose it, 'kay, kitten? And keep it on for today, little kit.” The man from next to you mumbled as he adjusted the fluffy earmuffs, as he allowed his chin to rub against your head a few times, scenting you.

The pack alpha rubbed at your back as you looked at the snow below you whenever any staff member would pass by, too afraid of making eye contact.

The older alpha laced your fingers with his as you all made your way to the large tent set up by the Hybe staff, one of whom very kindly opened it for you all.

As you entered the bustling place, you were immediately met with warmth caused by the propped-up portable heaters all around the makeshift room. Even as many people hurried around it, you noticed that their smells weren't as overbearing as they were outside, since here it was just the staff, which was always required to wear scent blockers, and the air had been purified since the early morning. The lot, on the other hand, has usually been visited by many people, which, of course, weren't required to be scentless as they went to ski, and even if the resort has been closed off for today due to the photoshoot, all the mingling scents just lingered.

The first alpha you noticed as you carefully and warily looked up around the place, still worried about making eye contact with any strangers, was Jimin. The man was standing by a seemingly different section in the large tent as he waited patiently for three of the stylists around him to hand him over all of the clothes he would be wearing for the photoshoot.

At your scent, he looked up, your soft strawberries just then around, having the alpha smilinh widely, his eyes adorably almost disappearing. Before you could hurry to greet him, the older alpha holding onto you tightly stopped you as he crouched down before you.

„Kitten? Please listen to Alpha now, for only a little while, baby, okay? ...good. Kitty, you must always stay by one of your alphas now, okay? You're safe here, but I don't want you to be all on your own. Be a good girl now and always stay close.”

You nodded, whispering a soft, „I wi-ll oppa...” as he rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, holding your smaller hands in his. Standing up and sighing at the cracks of his knee joints, Yoongi leaned closer, his chin tucking your face underneath his as he let his scent turn into calm pheromones.

„Yoongi-ssi, please come to change your attire for the photoshoot!” he heard one of the staff members call out as he nodded along, acknowledging them. Before he left you, he made sure to take you to some other pack member, mumbling about you being careful not to trip on any of the wires and such on the floors as he pulled you along towards the alpha closest, already sitting by a set-up makeup station where two stylists paid attention to his good looks.

„Cub? Come spend some time with alpha, hm?” Jin smiled at you, holding your hand as Yoongi mumbled a soft, „I'll just be behind that curtain if you need anything, kitty; you just call. Alpha is always around.” Then he left, taken along by an older smiling woman who handed him the warm winter clothes.

You nodded softly, letting the eldest gently guide you between his knees as he gently pulled you to sit just at the edge of them. At your soft whine of worry that you will be in the way of the quickly working makeup artists, the young girl softly giggled and whispered, „It's okay, I can work around you well,” settling your worries.

She seemed like a kind lady, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her dark eyes focused as she applied some makeup product to the back of her hand, warming it up with a dense sponge before she gently angled your alpha's face to apply it.

Jin wore a different outfit than he did when he left the house with you all after the early swimming break. Now he was clothed as if he was about to scale the tallest mountain in the world and still look like a model whilst doing so.

The oldest pack member wore a very soft, cashmere sky blue sweater with cream white corduroy trousers. The same shade was the crinkly puffer he wore to go with it, and his snow boots were a combination of cream and brown. To top it all off, the man had been handed another soft scarf with occasional brown stripes.

He smiled gently as you admired his nice looks, untying his scarf quickly to drape it around you, giggling loudly as he wrapped your face tight so that only your nose and eyes were visible. Quick to snap a photo of you, the alpha called to the other pack member, who just sat down at another makeup station after changing as well, laughing. „Look at cub Hobi-ah, it's like the Tutanchamon has crawled from his tomb!” Turning to watch you both, the man clapped loudly as he also smiled and giggled, while you whined, shrugging the tightly laced garment off.

Jin let his hands wrap around your waist, watching you fondly as his scarf laid around your neck normally, your chin hidden within the fabric. You smiled as you noticed the bracelet you'd made for him, a combination of silver and pink with a few cute charms on his wrist. There was a little microphone, a star, a tiny llama, and a small flower. The alpha had thanked you profusely earlier in the morning, telling you that you were 'the clever-est little omega he had yet to meet and that he would wear it forever.'

You watched as the hairstylist curled his dark brown hair to part in the middle, hairspray applied occasionally but never in your direction so it wouldn't bother you. The pretty lady who did his makeup was applying eyeshadow with a brush, blending one of the colours from a different palette to another in a practiced ease. As she set the eyeshadows down, you inched closer to touch the product yourself but didn't dare to make the move, feeling too shy.

Just then you noticed another two of the pack members taking a seat, as Jimin and Taehyung appeared from behind the curtains chatting about something in a comfortable mood. Beckoning you over, the younger was quick to spread his arms out in an awaited hug after he met your soft gaze.

Quick to say, „I'm going to oppa now...!” as Jin opened his eyes in alert from resting against the headrest, feeling comfortable with you in his arms, but suddenly moving, the older let you climb off as he hastily said, "Careful, you eager beaver!” his brows furrowing a little as you stumbled. But Hoseok was quick to catch you, his hand holding yours to help you gain your balance. He tutted at you softly, but you were already in Taehyung's embrace before he could get too far with it.

The alpha picked you up, holding you to his chest as he raked his fingers through your hair, sitting down along with you, settling you on one of his knees with your legs dangling between his own. He wore a comfortable outfit just like Jin, yet he had subtle changes—his white jacket was much longer, going over to his knees, and he wore baggy joggers instead. And as his hairstylist asked him to kindly take off his woollen bucket hat, the alpha was quick to comply and pluck it right onto your head, adjusting your earmuffs.

You just held onto his palm tighter, slowly adjusting to all of the scents and people you didn't know around you. You felt comfortable and safe with the alphas all around you—Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hobi, along with now Yoongi as well—were all sitting either to your left or right, getting their makeup done and hair curled and styled.

In the mirror before you, you noticed Namjoon standing next to a different staff member, explaining something to him hastily, but he also wore the white-toned winter outfit they all seemed to be sporting for the photoshoot.

And Jungkook's smell was noted as being just behind one of the curtains as well, where the alpha was just changing. He was careful and considerate, his scent more calming (quite frankly, just like all of the pack members around you); the youngest worried about you dropping on them. But you were doing well today; the staff members were either not talking to you or greeting you with small bows you hastily returned.

Taehyung's makeup stylist, an older woman, worked quickly and well; his base makeup was already applied in less than a few minutes. She smiled at you kindly, not making a scene when you sat so close to the alpha. Holding the comfort companion close to yourself, you breathed in the pack's scents, finding comfort in them when you knew you couldn't lean to the alpha's scent gland, too worried you'd be in the way and get screamed at—even when you knew that wouldn't happen.

When the younger man handed you his phone to play on, you thanked him softly. All his games were boring, though, and so after you asked for his permission to download a different one, the alpha lent you his thumb to go through the touch ID needed for the App Store. Soon after, you were playing a cute baking game, with Tae choosing whichever treat you should make next when you couldn't decide: „Oh, the cake looks so adorable, babycheeks! How about you try that next time?”

After a while, the first few were ready to have their photos taken, Jin coming closer to you as he crouched down by your feet, smiling at you: „Shall we go take some photos now, cub? See the pretty view, baby peaches?” as he rubbed his knuckles over your cheeks. You nodded, letting the younger man help you slide off his lap after you gave him his phone back. You could keep the little hat for now, he thought. At least you'd be nice and warm.

Taking your hand in his, you held onto the eldest as he led you out of the warm tent, the cold air hitting you both as you walked out. Bright sun shone onto the sparkling whites around you as you allowed the alpha to tie his scarf around you even tighter, tucking it so none of your neck would be exposed.

„There, all warm now peaches. Let's go up, hm? Other alphas will come by soon; don't worry.” he said comfortingly as you begrudgingly took a step along with him.

The air was once again filled with all kinds of different scents, making you stick close to the man, his arm softly rubbing circles on your back to calm you. You both followed the many staff members going up from the parking lot to the end of the nearest ski trail, next to the ski lifts. They all carried a camera, a light, or something else, and Jin led you carefully over their already walked-through path.

You climbed a few meters upward the ski slope, and as you both turned to look onto the pretty view below, you felt at peace. The wind blew softly, carrying the overwhelming scents away, calming you slightly. The nature below was stunning, pure, and fresh. Looking towards the tents again, you could hear Jimin giggle and laugh from over here, as the said man rushed towards you both.

With the eldest alpha's scent surrounding you, you laughed yourself as one of the youngest came bounding to you both, his arms wrapping around you as he spun in the snowy nature, your face safely tucked by his neck. Before you could get too dizzy, he stopped, though, carefully setting you down above him, so should you fall, he would be there to catch you.

Hugging you close, he whispered gently: „Alpha loves you, sweetheart; never forget that.” giggling softly, letting his nose caress yours in a soft bunny-kiss after he noted the cute blush warming your cheeks.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[legendofmorons]

Yooooo happy 2 year anniversary!!! As for the fic bingo,

SOULMATE AU WITH LEGEND I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I'm so normal about him I promise

Thank you!!!

I'm al SO normal about Legend ;)

(Soul) Marked hearts

Pairing: Legend x reader

Rating: T

Summary: In a world where you have the most important thing your soulmate says to you, printed somewhere on your body... you realize the man you love (and have loved for years) is your soulmate.

Warnings: cursing

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You sit by the fire, side by side with your long time friend Legend. Cool summer night breezes lazily pass by as the star shin above you.

The others sleep peacefully as your shift of watch drags on.

"You didn't have to take watch with me." You say to him.

Legend shrugs half heartedly. "You get bored."

"I do." You smile.

He snorts, elbowing you gently.

You just roll tour eyes, leaning against him. It's one of the many privileges you are afforded as someone close to him.

Legend wraps one arm around you, staring out at the stars as everyone else sleeps. He rests his hand on your arm, the metal of his rings cooler than his flesh.

It's easy, being here with him. The way your mind wanders to what a life with him might entail is... nothing new.

You soak up the warmth and ease that radiates off him. This is something reserved for you.

Legend is a sweetheart. Under the jaded attitude, he's still kind. He's earned the right to be jaded. But here? When it's just the two of you?

He is always more open with you like this. He's comfortable enough with you to be softer. Comfort enough to be affectionate.

"Did you ever find your soulmate?" He asks you. "I know you wanted to."

You laugh. "Not yet. I... don't know that I care, either. You know?"

"I do."

"Oh?" You prompt, "Is there someone you want to pursue, bunny boy?"

"That's not my name." Legend huffs. He gives you a playful glare, too.

You smile. "Answer the question."

"Maybe. It's... not important. I don't think I have a chance." Legend pulls you closer.

You lean with it, humming. "Why not?"

"I doubt I'm their soulmate. You know the world we live in." He gives a half shrug.

His tone is bitter, and he sounds genuinely resigned to a fate without whoever it is he is talking about.

You fall silent, searching the fire for answers as if it can reassure you. What are you supposed to say?

You can't let yourself hope he's talking about you.

The urge to reassure him is stringer than any jealousy you have over a man that isn't yours. You love him, you don't want him upset.

"Well... Fuck em." You offer and smile at him, "If they don't feel the same their a total fool."

"Really? That's all you got?" He huffs, raising one brow.

"Yep." You say, poping the 'p'.

Legend stares at you with unreadable eyes. He looks at you, searching for something but you can't say what.

He looks back to the stars.

You settle back down against him.

Legend rubs your arm with his hand where it rests, arm still around you like a promise.

You don't know what it's a promise of, just that it is.

Minutes pass, silent companionship a steady beat in your heart.

Legend finally asks, "If... I tell you something, you can't laugh at me. Okay?"

"I make no promises." You say immediately. "When people say that they tell me things that make me laugh."

"It's not a joke." Legend says.

His voice is firm, but his frame shakes slightly against you.

You frown, pulling out of his hold and sitting up on your own. You watch his face for any hint of what he wants to say.

"I'm listening." You tell him. "I won't laugh."

"Did you mean what you said, that I should tell them?" Legend asks, voice quiet and shaking.

You offer a nod.

He looks at you with a vulnerability you rarely see on him. He looks sea sick.

"Okay." He says, letting out a breath.

"Take your time." You soothe. "It's okay."

Legend nods weakly. He is looking directly into your eyes.

He takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders before he speaks.

"I don't care if you're my soulmate, I chose you. You're who I want at my side, as my partner, as my spouse if you want to get married." He says, voice firm even as he looks ready to run.

You let out a gasp.

He watches you, hands shaking as he fists them in his lap.

You know those words.

Those are the words that's are printed on one of your shoulder blades.

Legend said-

Oh.

"Fuck, man." You breathe out.

You want to laugh a little. You don't, but the surprise is there.

Legend flinches.

"It's really you, Link." You say in awe, "You're the one."

He blinks, confusion flitting across his face. "What?"

"It's your words on me. It's you!" You smile.

His breath catches. He knows those words. Those are the words printed on his sternum.

You're hugging him quickly, heart beating too fast as you knock your knee against his in the movement.

Legend hugs you back on reflex, sucking in a breath. "We're so stupid."

You laugh softly, setting your forehead on his shoulder. "We're soulmates."

"I'm glad it's you." Legend decides.

You grin, pulling away to look at him again. "How long can we go before the others realize we're together?"

"We're together now?" Legend asks with a smirk.

"Yes." You say, taking his hand in your own. "You're mine forever, bunny boy."

"Only if you're mine too."

"Good." You say, pulling his hand to up and pressing a kiss to it.

"Sap." He acusses. Then he gives you a smirk. "We could probably go for a week or two before they put it together."

You laugh, "Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

You lean against him again, setting your joined hands on your thigh. "This is nice."

He hums, "It is."

"For what it's worth... I chose you too, Link."

He smiles, face red. "Yeah?"

"Forever."

Legend hums once. "Forever sounds... great."

You smile up at him.

He means it, too. He knows he's prickly and he has bad days, but if you'll have him he'll stay with you. Forever.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 48. last words (half-written)

a/n: shorter than i thought it would be

your uber drops you off down the road from the pinned mark on lauren's location. you thank him and head out, making sure the cap and hoodie hide your features well.

the air in hongdae is thick with neon lights and crowds, but none of it registers as you make your way toward the bar. your heart and head pound from frustration and anticipation as you text lauren once more—hopefully this'll be the last time.

she tells you to meet in the alley nearby, which, definitely irks you since your last experience in an alley in hongdae consisted of you bumping into a couple getting all frisky. you shiver at the memory.

before she can spot you, you beat her to it. she's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking slightly disheveled. there's a hazy redness in her eyes that tells you she's not completely sober.

when you step closer, she blinks up at you, attempting a smirk that only twists your heart. "didn't think you'd actually come," she muses, but there's an edge to her voice.

you don't waste time. "cut the act."

her smirk falters.

"i know everything," you continue, voice firm. "you set me up. those pictures, everything... you planned that."

she exhales sharply, her gaze darting away from you. "yeah, so what?" she doesn’t even try to make up a lie, maybe this is characters development, you think.

you exhale sharply. "why?"

lauren lets out a humorless laugh before relaxing against the wall again, giving you a half-lidded look. "because I hate it," she admits, "you're famous, you're a star, and—" her voice cracks, and she swallows hard before continuing. "it's not even that, I mean, I've got my own success too. but really? all your songs, do you know what it's like hearing them everywhere? i scroll on social media and somehow you've made it to the sound. you're getting praised for the lyrics and all I can think of is how I'm the one behind them."

your chest tightens as you stare at her, the raw emotion in her voice cracks you slightly.

"i regret everything. there, i said it." she whispers, her voice thick. then before you can react, she steps forward, pressing her forehead against your shoulder as a sob shakes through her.

despite everything, you keep her against you, letting her cry for a moment. the weight of her sadness weighs you down too.

you step back immediately after, detaching yourself gently. lauren looks up at you, her eyes searching for something—forgiveness, maybe.

you tighten your jaw before saying, "i'm done, lauren." your voice is quiet but firm. "this is the last time. i don't ever want to see you again."

your final words completely break her. she flinches, her lips parting as if to argue, but she doesn't. she knows what she's done—and her consequences.

before she can say anything else, you turn and walk away without looking back. the sounds of chatter and music in hongdae swallow you whole, but the weight in your chest lingers.

—

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites @wonyoungssi

[brummiereader]

@call-sign-shark I'm sorry I'm so late commenting on this chapter, Shark 😩!

Arghh, but what a chapter it was! This one has left me with so many mixed emotions when it comes to Tommy and Heavens relationship. I still remain on the non-ship HYE reader side 🙈. Even more so after this chapter! Their toxic relationship has evolved into something very, very dark.

I'm often wrong when it comes to my understanding of things 🤦🏼‍♀️, but a part of me think that Tommy sees the way Heaven has helped heal Arthur over the years, and he's selfishly seeking the same from her. Whether that's the case or not, what happened towards the end of this chapter left me in shock!

“Do you think Arthur would want you to risk your life? Do you think I’d let you go on a rampage with my niece or nephew in your belly?” after having read this chapter, I'd say he doesn't care about his future niece or nephew. This seems all a little to calculated and selfish on his part.

“Above everything. Untouchable. But here we are. Both haunted.” I think it must have been this line and the use of "haunted" that made me think that Tommy's twisted attentions towards Heaven is him seeking her out to give him peace.

“Tom… No.” You thought you had spoken with a stern tone but your voice had been nothing but a whisper that melted in a moan and, consequently, he didn’t stop - In a final scream of intense pleasure he came, stars waltzing behind the blackness of his eyelid and the mighty hands of God ripping all his suicidal thought from him just enough time to finally be at peace. Arghh, noooo....you didn't have to make this kinda hot, Shark 😩😂. This was what I was talking about when I said you left me with mixed emotions. I can't help but think that Heaven wasn't in her right mind when she this happened. And another part of me thinks, that neither was Tommy. I'm on the side that, canon Tommy would never do this to his brother. But in HYE, he's a lot darker and a lot more desperate. And it seems he's sought out Heaven as the only one that can give him peace of mind. My heart hurts for Heaven though. Not only did she think she was losing her husband, she also thought she was gonna lose her baby. Tommy may have been drunk, but a degree of manipulation on his part was used for him to get off 😬.

Only after a few minutes Tommy looked up at you, the eyes that once stared at you with disgust and burning rage now softened – though the remnant of something dark and fierce burnt inside his black pupils. That sounds like the start of love, if you ask me 😳. With a dark drive to have Heaven all to himself!

Your heart is as black… As mine. - “Each other’s death.” wow, what a way to end this chapter! This feels a little forbading. And at this point in time, I could definitely see it all ending in one of their deaths if Tommy doesn't back the fuck up!

Amazing chapter, Shark ❤️.

Heaven in Your Eyes || Tommy Shelby x You

Summary: For safety purpose and following Arthur's death, you are forced to live under your enemy and unforgiving brother-in-law's roof. It's only you and Tommy between the dreadful walls of Arrow house where grief, hatred, and attraction blend.

some musical background to read + the song that inspired it.

Words: 6.5k

TW: angst, rocky dynamic, pinning, sexual tension, graphic description of violence, strangulation, very very strong sexual innuendos, mention of blood, murder and grief, alteration of canon events + time.

Notes:

✞ Heaven in Your Eyes is an Arthur Shelby story but considering what happens to him in this part of S4, this chapter and the next one will be entirely focused on Reader/Heaven's relationship with Tommy.

✞ This is chapter 17 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone.

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Your pale aquamarine eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, far too different from the ceiling of your house in Watery Lane. The soft glow of morning light filtered through the dark and heavy curtains of the guest bedroom that was bathed in warm shadows. The bedding was too smooth, giving you the unpleasant impression that the mattress was slowly but surely swallowing you whole. As for the room itself, it was too silent, with no trace of the reassuring sounds or smells of your own home, like the floral fragrance of the lily of the valley perfume Arthur sprayed on your pillow each night before sleeping, fully aware that it reminded you of your mother.

A little cry escaped your lips when you turned your head towards the half-hidden window; its blinding light making your head throbbed painfully. You tried to move but your whole body ached, like a cruel and dull echo of the chaos that had ripped your world apart the night before. The chaos who took Arthur, your sweet Arthur, from you.

 Arthur.  With your heart pounding in your chest to the rhythm of invisible drums, you sat up – certainly a bit too violently. As the room spun around you, you clawed the fabric of the blanket not to fall back on the bed. Breathe, Hev. Just breathe, you told yourself. Exhaling slowly through your nostrils, you waited a bit until the dizziness and nausea became bearable and only then did you proceed to scan your surroundings. The place you had woken up in was a spacious bedroom, impeccably furnished yet so sparsely decorated that it ended up cold and impersonal. Just like a furniture store. But despite the unfamiliar setting, the peculiar smell of wood and faint traces of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air rung a bell. You recognized the man who owned it immediately.

Arrow House?

Tommy.

The memories violently surged back. The images of Arthur’s blood, the frenzied struggled to save him, the stabbing of a first Italian, then the murder of another, all of this leading to the moment you had lost consciousness. What the hell happened after? Why were you in Arrow House? Where was Arthur? Questions buzzed in your mind like a hive of furious hornets crashing against your skull. Through the fog, you thought you remembered Thomas’ low voice and arms wrapping you just before you fainted, but you weren’t sure – so came the necessity of finding out. Your sly hands shook as you scrambled out of the bed, even though the cold surface of the floor managed to ground you when your feet touched its polished wood.

You needed to find Tommy and ask for an explanation – or excavate that same explanation from him by using sheer strength and torture if you had to. Yes, you needed to know if Arthur made it. If he was safe, because he had to be safe after everything you did. He had to be safe, or else what would be left of you beside an empty shell? Wasting no time, you rushed out of the room like a fury without minding your poor state. In fact, your legs wobbled beneath your weight as you pushed the door open and made your way through the cool hallway, head spinning with disorientation. For sure, staying in bed would have been the best option but, as was the case that night you fled from your little town in the mountains, a combination of rage and panic controlled you. You braced yourself against the wall, your fingers curling into the wood and tapestry for balance. Each meters reached took a disproportionate amount of effort, each step felt unsteady. Your determination might be spotless, but your body betrayed as you swayed, to the extent that you careened into the wall with a dull thud from time to time. And when it weren’t the walls, it was the uneven carpet that made you almost trip. That damn corridor seemed endless, but the more you walked the sharper the scent of Tommy’s tobacco reached your senses and lifted the haze you were embedded in.

Little King Shelby was there.

That sole observation swept away the remnant of sickness you felt, your energy all regained as your steps, usually light and ethereal, echoed through the expensive house of Arrow house – a sumptuous mansion whose beauty only equaled its claustrophobic and maddening emptiness. The grand, austere décor loomed all around you in rich, dark wood paneling, chandeliers and old paintings staring from their frames. Ironically enough, it wasn’t the old and slightly obscure ones that made you feel uncomfortable, but rather Grace’s gigantic portrait. She was overhanging the house, her piercing blue eyes seemingly glistening in the sunlight and judging your every move.  Silently asking you what the hell you were doing in her home. A shiver ran down your spine, as if you could sense her presence, heavy and utterly sad, sipping through all the walls.  Arrow House might carry a distinct scent of polished wood and smoke, but beneath it lingered something as heavy as the Grace’s portrait – sorrow. It clung to the air like a haunting memory, subtle but inescapable, much like what Tommy himself hid under his expensive after-shave.

Finally, you reached the heavy double doors of Tommy’s office, your heart a relentless thud in your tight chest. Usually, little King Shelby despised being disturbed when he was in his study but you couldn’t care less considering the emergency of the situation – and you wouldn’t have cared in a more casual one. Without the slightest hesitation, you threw the doors open and your voice, already sharp, resounded in the room like a tigress’ roar.

“Where is he?” You demanded, as your pale iris, which were burning with Hell’s fire, surveyed the room until they found Tommy behind his desk.  His ice-cold stare met yours with a calm that only pushed you further to the edge of fury, “Where is Arthur?!”

The blue-eyed demon might have many flaws, but stupidity wasn’t one. He knew you would make a mess when you woke up so he had spent the last few hours patiently waiting for the chaos to storm, a glass of whiskey for sole companion to brace your thunder. He let out a sigh and reached for that same glass, which had remained untouched on his desk until now. After a sip, he leaned back on his chair, his eyes wandering on you as if he was calculating every possible outcome of your conversation.

Then only he spoke.

“Heaven, would you calm down ay?” He said with a smooth yet firm voice that carried an irking placidity. How could he be so serene after his brother got attacked and butchered? Was it the same Tommy who, overwhelmed with emotions you recalled, tried to help you last night? Or was he some kind of evil twin, who locked up his good brother somewhere in Arrow House most of the time?

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”  You snapped, walking toward him with your first clenched and stopping in front of his desk while he was still sitting, “After everything that happened last night, I wake up here and you think you can just sit there and act like this is normal? Tell me where Arthur is now.” You spat, your words like a winter blizzard.

Tommy stubbed his cigarette in the crystal ashtray that was on his deck before he stood, sky-blue eyes narrowed as he moved around slowly around the furniture. Your whole little body tense when he approached, his sole presence irking you.

“Arthur…” He started, his voice drawling, “Had to make a quick exit. We had to make him disappear for his own safety.”  His statement was heavy with the implications of danger and truth he didn’t wish to fully reveal. Tommy and his little secrets, you thought bitterly. Your jaw clenched, your icy eyes narrowing as you tried to swallow your burning fury in favor of a cold, quiet, anger.

“Disappear? Is he alive? Where is he?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any more information.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing on you. Was he serious? Momentarily stunned by the audacity of the Peaky Blinders’ boss, you blinked. He couldn’t be serious.

“And I’m just supposed to accept that dumb answer? After everything I went through trying to save him?”

Tommy moistened quickly his lips with the tip of his pink tongue, his face an unreadable mask. Still, you could see through it, and you knew he was searching for his words, “It’s not about accepting or not. We suggested the idea to him, and he agreed. Arthur made his choice – he’s lying low, and right now, that’s the best place for him.”

A slap across your face would have been less painful that what he was saying. Trembling with frustration, you shoved your fist into his chest. Tommy didn’t move nor show any hint of paint. If anything, he just let you lash out at him.

 “So what—you’re just hiding him? Keeping him locked away while I’m left in the dark?”

“I’m not hiding him. Not keeping him from you. He’s the one who decided to leave.”  

“You’re lying. That’s just another of your fucked up games.” You hissed, plump lips curling and revealing your sharp canine teeth you dreamt of sinking into your brother-in-law’s throat.

Arthur had left. Without saying anything. Without a fucking warning. Without a fucking 'hi, I'm alive love". You couldn't believe it.

Tommy shook his head, cold but resolute, “I’m not playing. There are people out there looking for him. And if they know you’re alone and vulnerable, those same people will come after you, too.”

Another blow to his chest. The charming gangster closed his eyes a few seconds and exhaled loudly through his nose to swallow the pain.

“Go fuck yourself! I’m going to find him and murder those bastards myself!”

When Tommy reopened his eyes, his large and warm hand grabbed your wrist suddenly in mid-action and kept you from punching his strong chest again.

“Do you think Arthur would want you to risk your life? Do you think I’d let you go on a rampage with my niece or nephew in your belly?”

Your breath suddenly caught, the mention of your pregnancy striking a far too sensitive nerve. With your eyes wide-opened in surprise, you studied Tommy with an expression of pure shock on your seraphic face. How could he possibly know about the baby?

“You nearly lost that kid,” Tommy’s intense gaze softened as he continued, his husky voice dropping lower and his grip loosening around your frail wrist.

“How?” You whispered, your lower lip trembling.

“Polly is not the only one who can sense things eh,” Apart from being gifted with animals, Tommy had a sensibility you had never expected. He had known about the baby the same day you had talked to him about keeping Arthur busy during their meeting. It was the way you touched your belly sometimes, the way you had acted more feral than usually – which he hadn’t thought possible, “But that’s not the point. If you leave, you’ll risk everything. Arthur wants you safe, and right now safe means staying here.”

The air between you grew thick with desperation and frustration. You gritted your teeth so harshly you wouldn’t have been surprised if they would all broken, but it was the only thing that helped you biting down the urge to scream.

“So, you’re telling me I have no other choice than stay?” Your voice wasn’t loud, but its defiance and hatred cut as deep as the razor blades he kept in his cap. To be fair, the fact he talked about the baby made you falter more than you’d wish to admit. Your shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat.

“Yes,” Tommy said simply, leaving no room for argument, “You stay here, under my roof, until this fucking mess is sorted out and until it’s safe for both you and the baby. I don’t expect you to like it, but you just have to accept that situation.”  He finally released your wrist in a surprisingly soft gesture – the fire of your fury had been so bright you had completely forgotten that Tommy had been holding you during your entire exchange. And now that he had stepped back, you realized that his touch had been grounding, and you found yourself missing it.

“It will be temporary, I promise.”  He added, heading back to his office to grab his whiskey and gulp it down. The glass chimed when he put it back on the wooden surface.

Your fruity lips pressed into a tight line, your gaze falling to the floor. That burning anger that had fueled you earlier felt dulled, swallowed by exhaustion and creeping darkness settling deep in within the marrow of your bones. As much as you wanted to fight, to demand answers and storm out of the cage Arrow House was, you knew deep down that Little King Shelby was right. The stakes were too high and your strength, for once, too fragile. This was with reluctance and resignation that you looked up to meet Tommy’s eyes.

“Fine,” You muttered, “But don’t think this means I trust you.”

“It wouldn’t have crossed my mind.”  Tommy made a little tilt with his head while raising one brow, “So you’ll stay ay?”

“Hm. But I’ll get the fuck out of here whenever it will be safer. ”

A little glint of something — approval? Satisfaction? — flickered briefly in his eyes, “As long as you respect the terms of this arrangement, that’s all that matters, Devil.”

With a final, deathly glance, you turned on your heels and left the room, feeling the burn of his scorching gaze on your back. Staying with him was an awful idea, but for now you had no choice but to play along.

To abide by the rules he would set.

The fire flickered low in Arrow House’s main yet darkened living room, the dancing flames casting their undulating shadows along the wooden walls. Wrapped in Arthur’s long coat, you sat curled up in the armchair closest to the fire in a vain attempt to warm your cold soul up. A glass of whiskey was in your small hands, barely tasted. There was exquisite alcohol here, at least. To be honest, you hadn’t planned on staying up this late but killing time here was better than tossing and turning in bed, feeling near suffocating at the sensation of the bedsheet around you. A little sigh escaped your plump lips, whose skin had been picked at until you had bled at the bottom right. Sleep had been quite elusive ever since Arthur’s death – or rather, absence. A deliberate absence that gnawed at you, leaving you restless and hollow the same way you did after the tragedy that took your family from you on a cold October night.  The same way it did when you had left your former fiancé.

Another chill ran down your spine as the events that brought you to Arthur and what followed played in your head like a broken record: you felt like only a few days had passed from your unexpected encounter in the church to the awful evening during which you had held your husband bloodied and limp body. And with the memories came an even more aching revelation: all the people around you always ended up dead or hurt in the end, whether you pulled the trigger or not.

At this moment you would have given everything just to switch your brain off and let someone handle the rest. Everything to be in Amos’ reassuring arms, his tender velvet voice whispering in your ear that everything was going to be fine.

A thought that occurred for the second time, the first appearing when you danced with Luca Changretta.

The door suddenly creaked, the darkness of Arrow House’s corridor subsiding as Tommy appeared in the orange light with an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His steps were heavy and his mesmerizing turquoise eyes slightly glazed. As was always the case when you breathed the same air as this asshole, your body tense entirely, every muscle ready to pounce on him and shred him to piece. However, you only raised your head, your pale eyes falling on his face. What you saw made you frown: he was well into a drink himself, judging by the loose expression he wore and the very faint flush on his salient cheekbones.

Despite being intoxicated, the sharpness in his gaze didn’t dull when he spotted you by the fire. If anything, it intensified.

Ah! It was still the same old and hateful Thomas Shelby you knew.

“Couldn’t stay in your room, could you?” You muttered, your tone soft but laced with a mix of sarcasm and intrigue as the man approached. Tommy didn’t answer though and sunk onto the couch opposite you.

“This is my house, remember?” He retorted, husky voice almost making the air rumble around him. A few days had passed since you argued in his office. A few days during which you mainly stayed locked up in the room, stubbornly sulking.

“And believe me, I’m counting down the hours until I can leave it,” He met his gaze when you finished speaking but, as surprising as it was, Tommy didn’t find defiance in your eyes. Only fatigue. For once, the insolent brat you usually were seemed too exhausted to bite. "I’d rather not be here, but we don’t always have the choice.” You had wanted to add that the choice was scarce when Tommy Shelby was around, but you didn’t. Not only would it be pointless, but you weren’t in the mood to fight.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, “You’re right. Just like I didn’t have a choice when Arthur took you in, dragging all the trouble that followed,” He paused, attentively studying how your seraphic traits expressed your spitefulness at his words, then pointed at you with his finger “Thought you were above it all, didn’t you?”

“Above what?”

“Above everything. Untouchable. But here we are. Both haunted.”

Your grip tightened on your glass. So strongly you almost snapped it. “Don’t you dare blame me for what happened to him, Thomas. I know you’re used to do so but don’t fucking do it this time.” You warned.

Tommy’s blue eyes darkened as he looked away, shaking his head as if he had just remembered something awfully painful. The same thing that was plaguing your dreams: Arthur and his almost severed throat, “I don’t blame you for that – not for the attack nor for trying to save him.” He admitted. Wow, Tommy not blaming you for something was unexpected!

The gangster sighed and finally brought the cigarette to his mouth, rolling the filter onto his lower lip first before lighting it. Then, he threw the lighter on the small table near him and took a long drag. You carefully observed him all the while, afraid he would jump at your throat if you ought to lose your focus for one microsecond, “But it doesn’t change what came after, does it? You’ve done nothing but bring trouble to me. To all of us.”  He added with a hoarse voice, punctuating his sentence by blowing the smoke noisily. His voice didn’t carry the slightest aggressiveness though, only exhaustion. Yes, you were both drained by this fucking life.

Your jaw clenched, his word cutting deep. “I tried to save him with everything I had, Thomas. I’ve always tried to do my best for this family. Tried my best to make it work. But you –” You sneered, “You’re so determined to hate me that you won’t see it.”

Tommy snorted, the ghost of a desperate smile floated on his lips before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The look in his eyes was hard as steel, unyielding, but utterly melancholic. “Save him? Yes, it’s true, but you think that changes a thing? He was better off with you from the start.”

Things were always like this with Tommy. Even though you told yourself that you weren’t going to give in to your anger, the blue-eyed demon always knew which buttons to push to annihilate your self-control. And even if you didn’t want to play his twisted game, you always ended up getting pulled in. Your heart pounded in your tight chest, anger sparking beneath grief and the pain. Driven by a furious rage only he could fuel, you stood up from the armchair, Arthur’s black coat falling on the floor as you moved. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you know what is best for him. You only know what’s convenient for you. It’s always about you, innit?”

Following your movement, Tommy also got up from the couch to face you, cigarette hanging from his mouth and icy turquoise eyes burning fiercely. “What do you think you know about about me? Or about Arthur, for that matter?”

“About Arthur? Everything. About you? More than I needed to know.”  Your body moved instinctively, taking a step closer to him in utter defiance. “You really think you’re that unfathomable, do you? You think that no one except Thomas Shelby can understand what’s happening in this twisted and scheming mind of him, right?  No, let me correct my mistake, even you cannot understand yourself.”  Trying to calm down sheer anger and the acid you were made of, you took a quick gulp of whisky from your glass before putting it on the table.  Once the glass left your mouth, your lips curled in a mean smirk.

“I know the man you are because my former fiancé was cut from the same cloth. An egocentric criminal with bulging ambition, a far too high sense of self esteem and a greed beyond words. A man who dragged his loved ones down with him without even realizing it. But Tom, you are a poison. And even with good intentions and genuine love, everything you touch ends up rotting. Just like you.”

And just like him.

Your voice sounded like an angelic lilt as you spoke, but there was something horrifying in its softness: a belittling tenderness that was only aimed at mocking and hurting.

Tommy’s jaw clenched, dimples digging in his already sharp cheeks. Bitter, he stubbed his cigarette against the couch’s armrest and threw it right onto the carpet, not minding the damage he just did. For fuck’s sake, he had enough money to buy a new one. Even a new mansion had he wanted to.The tension that was floating in the room became thicker, intoxicating, as your cutting remarks threw sparks into the gasoline of his soul. One could even wonder if the crackling sound of the fire really came from the hearth or if they were made by the flames of your hatred. 

The gangster didn’t reply, yet his eyes were locked with yours, speaking a silent challenge none of you was willing to back down from. He might have remained mute, but his body didn’t. All of sudden, he walked closer to you, reducing the distance step by step until he stood in front of you only from a few inches, fierce and unafraid. He was so close that you could feel the warmth of his bare chest radiating off him, gently warming up your frozen skin without even touching it. The musky scent of his after shave, worn off by the shower but still strong enough for you to catch its fragrances, mixed with his whiskey breath.

“You think I’m scared of you?” You whispered only for him to hear, light tremor of defiance in your voice. “Be careful Thomas, you know I could kill you right here right now.”  You spat, the warm fire reflecting its dim light against the pearly white enamel of your sharp canine teeth and making your ivory mane shine like moonlight.

“It’s Tommy.” He corrected. The way you kept using his full name was starting to get on his nerves, especially after how delicate his nickname had sounded, melting on your tongue like sugar, the day you threw yourself in his arms, mourning John. Crying real tears and not staged ones.

“No, it’s Thomas. You said it yourself years ago.”  You cut him, the name as sharp as the shards of a broken mirror, whose cracked surface reflected Tommy on one side, and your own being on the other, like two perfectly intricated parts of the same puzzle.

A short silence hovered above the room, sharing the space with the electric air as you glared at each other, waiting for the next unpredictable move the other could make.

The blue-eyed demon didn’t bother picking up your little taunt, but rather went on with what you said just before, “Kill me…” He repeated, leaning over you. His void pupils relished every trait of your doll face, “That’s what you want ay?”  Tommy’s voice was dark and daring, but it held a flicker of something different. Something more dangerous. As he spoke, his husky and hushed tone feeding the electric tension, you both stood locked in that heated moment, your breaths mingling in the space between you. Why were you realizing how close you were, both invading each other’s private space, only now? 

This time, Tommy’s expression shifted again and before you could react, he reached for you, his strong calloused hands wrapped around your wrists with a firm yet tender grip and pulled you even closer. “Do it”, he urged in a low growl as he guided your hands around his neck. “Show me how strong you really are without that evil magic of yours...”

Your heart raced, missing a vertiginous beat, as your sly fingers curled instinctively around the hard line of his throat. There was a thrill in the danger, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins when you felt the steady thump of his pulse under the soft pulp of your thumb, a reminder that Tommy Shelby was indeed a mortal man. Without control of any sort, your eyes fell on his throat, which was a striking canvas of both strength and vulnerability, the sinewy muscles taut beneath his smooth, pale skin. The very, very thin layer of sweat which covered him glistened under the dim light, attracting your attention even more on the angular lines of his jaw. Your breath stopped for a few seconds when you noticed how the coolness of his complexions contrasted sharply with the heat that was radiating off him.  Tommy Shelby was a walking paradox, as cold as ice, as hot as fire. Just like you.

With a surge of anger, you tightened your hold and let your nails dig into his skin. “You think this is a game?”

“Life ain’t nothing but a cruel game, Devil” he replied with a hitching breath and a light smirk dancing on his seductive lips as he leaned more into your grip. The gangster exuded something primal you couldn’t really describe. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too—the tension, the way we keep pushing each other.”

Your faces were now inches apart, heat pooling in your body and overwhelming you.

 “You’re insane,” you hissed, a tremor of uncertainty creeping into your voice despite your bravado. You had tried to hide it but it was vain and you knew it didn’t go unnoticed.

“And yet here we are,” he murmured, his growling voice turning into a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. A raspy lilt that made all fibers of your being vibrate like a piano’s strings during a symphony of chaos and desire. Caught off guards by the intensity of his gaze, your grip faltered just a moment before your thumb pressed a bit more on his windpipe. The noise his breath made as well as the way he sharply sucked in for air left no doubt on the power of your grip – you were slowly but surely squeezing the air out of him and, this time, you didn’t need any kind of magic to do so. It made the whole act even more exciting. Suffocatingly intense. 

At this point, you were convinced that the black-haired gangster, with his intoxicating smell of whiskey, cigarettes, leather and expensive after shave, would back up but he did quite the opposite. Leaning forwards, his lips brushed against your ear with a tenderness you didn’t suspect he possessed. Another shiver ran through you, and you hated him even more for enabling this reaction. “Harder…” He breathed, voice already muffled, “ Y—You want this as much as I—I do.”

In that moment, the storm of your usually muffled emotions collided. Rage, desire, fear, hatred, loneliness, doubts, lust, all intertwined with the numbing effect of alcohol, blurred the line between Tommy and you even further.

“Harder, like your former fiancé loved, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me your – yourself ay.”

Lost in the intensity of everything, you felt the control slipping from your fingertip along with the will of fighting him. Tommy Shelby was sliding under your skin and the undeniable urge to give in was too much for you to resist. And somehow, you didn’t want to. What he made you feel was too similar to what you had lost after slashing Amos’ face and running away the day of your wedding.

This was why your grip suddenly tightened around him, your slow choking turning into the verge of deadly strangulation. In reply, Tommy let out a muffled moan. His strong hands, scarred by murder, grabbed your frail hips. So frail he felt like he could crush them easily and break you in half.

Your eyes maybe whole, But the story I'm told is your heart is as black as night.

As the room started to dangerously spin around him, the lack of oxygen building up gradually, the necessity of words faded away. Giving in, you leaned too and gently rubbed your cheek against your brother-in-law’s while still strangling him. Your lashes fluttered at the silky sensation of his perfectly shaved skin, your nerves sparkling with sensations at the lines of his sharp facial bones. His fire skin against the frost that constituted yours was ecstatic. Another little husky yet muffled moan echoed in the living room, his touch feeling as good as a shot of heroin and as brutal as getting crushed by a train. 

“Hev—” Tommy’s muscular body suddenly dropped to its knees, unable to hold his weight anymore.  At first you thought he would finally give up and admit he couldn’t take it anymore but the black-haired gangster didn’t. His rough hands didn’t leave your waist but rather pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t bear a single inch standing between you. The two turquoise gems that he called eyes locked onto yours — unfaltering and desperate. Tommy exhaled a shaky breath and surrendered himself fully to your touch. You wanted to kill him? So be it, he thought.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, fascinated for he looked so weak, so… willingly at your mercy that everything around you blurred, your focus only on him. Him and his freckles. Him and the too-perfect traits of his face from his adorable nose to his slightly chapped lips. Him and the sight of what you could be together.

Your lips maybe sweet such that I can't compete, But your heart is as black as night.

A far away cry resounded in the back of your head, pleading you to put a stop to this folly, but you were far too embedded in a primal trance to mind it. 

 Tommy’s head lowered until his cheek pressed against your belly, his arms snaking around your waist in an intimate, blazing embrace. And just like that it wasn’t a fight anymore; it was something else. The same thing you were both desperately pushing away for years — what fueled the vitriol of his hatred. For him and his twisted and tired mind, your deadly hands around his throat weren’t hurting him anymore, they were granting him a momentary relief from his untamable demons. The dirt couldn’t touch him here, your seraphic yet murderous aura keeping it from burying him alive. You strangled him, but he felt like he had never breathed this freely for a long, very long time. 

Soon the static hug turned into a sensual one, with Tommy softly rocking you in a way so soothing that you couldn’t help but bit your juicy lower lip. For a moment you both stayed like that, your body petrified and your hands still squeezing the air out of him while his scorching breath fanned over your belly when he moaned, sipping through the thin fabric of your silk nightgown. It was only after a while that all of Tommy’s energy fled from him. Now he hed had reached his limits. You felt the gangster waver, then he fell back onto the living room floor, dragging you along in his fall. You simply followed, letting him pull you on top to make you straddle him. A firework exploded into you when your hips collided together, your beings only separated by the thin layer of your lace thong and the fabric of his trousers. 

I don't know why it came along at such a perfect time, But if I let you hang around I'm bound to lose my mind.

Beneath you, Tommy’s body was entirely tensed, his breath hitching in difficulty, mouth gasping for air and a vein on his forehead pumping blood furiously. Yet, his hypnotic turquoise eyes didn’t waver from you except occasionally when he rolled them back in pure ecstasy. You shut your eyes closed, squeezing them very tight, unable to hold his gaze anymore when his hips started to sensually roll under you, the feeling of his hard length making you gasp.

“Tom… No.” You thought you had spoken with a stern tone but your voice had been nothing but a whisper that melted in a moan and, consequently, he didn’t stop. Quite the opposite, he kept rubbing against you, your hips dancing together in perfect rhythm and intensifying when he felt the warmth pooling between your legs and the small, damp spot on your sinful undergarment. It was too much for him to bear — Tommy growled, a low and primal noise that came from the depths of his soul, and his hips bucked under you. In a final scream of intense pleasure he came, stars waltzing behind the blackness of his eyelid and the mighty hands of God ripping all his suicidal thought from him just enough time to finally be at peace.

Peace, at last. He thought.

Shocked, confused and caught in the haze of the moment, you finally released your grip and freed his throat before curling up in a ball in his arms, trembling. 

“I’m fine.” He stuttered, panting, as if he had read through your concerns.

As you lay entwined on the floor, both of you breathless and tangled in each other’s arms as if your life depended on it, the silence of the room grew thick with unspoken desire and barely bridled resentment.

Would life be easier if you’d give in for good? Would he be the one, strong and steady, guiding you and protecting you? Could he be the one able to finally heal that open wound your attachment to Amos was?

No.

Tommy could never be your solace.

You would never let him.

You’d never do this to Arthur. Never.

Your hand tenderly reached his face. They lingered on his perfectly carved jaw to trace faint lines across his skin as though you were discovering him for the very first time. Had he always been so pretty? The soft caress of your fingers almost made him purr, but he was still panting too much to say something more judging by how his chest rapidly fell with each shallow breath. Only after a few minutes Tommy looked up at you, the eyes that once stared at you with disgust and burning rage now softened – though the remnant of something dark and fierce burnt inside his black pupils. 

He finally broke the silence with a voice both rough and tender, “You feel it ay? The weight of it. The weight of us.” It wasn’t a question for he knew he was right, no matter how hard you would deny it. He pulled you closer to make your embrace even more intimate until your nose nuzzled in the crook of his neck — his perfume soothing you, lulling you.

'Cause your hands maybe strong but the feelings are all wrong, Your heart is as black as night.

“Tommy. This has to stop.” You said slowly, fingers still caressing his face with sheer tenderness, “You have to let it go.”  Fighting against the torpor the sweet comfort of his arms brought you, you raised your head to plunge your gaze into his.  In response, Tommy let out a sigh and one of his hands found yours, intertwining your fingers together.

“You think he loves you the way I could?” His other hand moved to your face to tilt your chin towards him, keeping you from fleeing his vulture eyes which were filled with longing he didn’t bother to hide anymore, “I’m not letting you go.” 

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest at the thought that Tommy would never stop haunting you. 

He was talking exactly like Amos. Using the exact same words and sickly-sweet tone.

“Don’t say dumb shit like this.” You retorted, the warmth you had granted him with turning to freezing arctic ice again. With that being said, you gathered all your remaining strength to overcame the comforting haze he instilled in you, and managed to snatch yourself from his arms. You needed to leave this fucking room now. Surprised, Tommy tried to hold you, to keep you from leaving him but you had been too quick. Defeated, the gangster hauled himself with his forearms against the carpet and frowned.

“You know we’re meant to be.”

“And what are we meant to be Thomas?” You sneered, glaring at him from above your bony shoulder, “Can you tell me?!”

Your heart is as black… As mine.

“Each other’s death.”

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[entities-of-posts]

When I was little, I was terrified of space. Which was funny, because one of my favorite books was a constellations activity book. I think I just liked it for the Greek myths tied to the constellations. I still have it, I think, up in my room. It's the kind of thing you just don't have the heart to get rid of. But that's besides the point.

One time, in elementary school, we took a field trip to the little observatory in the high school. No telescope or anything, but it had one of those fancy, expensive, spherical projectors and a domed ceiling. I remember the red lighting around the rim of the ceiling, so that we could see our worksheets but it was still dark. Something about red light not really registering as bright light, and helping your eyes adjust to darkness? I dunno. Again, I'm getting off topic.

I don't really remember what the presentation was about, what the person said. I remember the wobbly seat that leaned back so you didn't strain your neck looking up. I remember the stars across the ceiling. I remember the person fast-forwarding the projection through the whole year, watching the constellations and planets move.

I felt so small. I was terrified. The universe is huge, and I'm just one little kid on one little planet. Would anything I do ever matter? Would anyone remember me? I was so scared, I felt sick to my stomach. I left the observatory feeling hollow.

And one time, my parents were watching Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. Neil deGrasse Tyson was talking about the life cycle of stars, and how, in 5 billion years, the sun will run out of hydrogen, and for 3 billion years it will swell, swallowing Mercury, Venus, and Earth. I tried to tune it out, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why did it matter to me? I'd be gone by then. I shouldn't care what happens in billions of years. but the idea of the sun devouring its children, burning them up in its hunger and desperation…

There are little things, too. I'm afraid of heights, but only if they’re not contained. I have really strong call to the void - the urge to throw yourself off the edge. My school auditorium has a balcony, and when I was touring the campus for some class, the instinct was so strong I had to stand as far away from the railing as possible, and I still got dizzy. My knees were weak, I was shaking, the world was spinning. No one noticed.

Ironically, my most pleasant dreams are ones where I’m flying. The wind in my hair, the breathlessness. Tucking my wings in to dive, or fall, so fast I think I’ll hit the ground, and opening them at the last moment to skim just above the Earth, then soaring up into the clouds again…

But as far as space goes? I lived with that fear for years and years. But one day, maybe when I was 18 or something, I don’t remember, something just… changed. I was in a depressive episode, I think, and it was like 10pm. I was the only one awake in my house. Talking online wasn’t enough, I needed to get out of my head. So I just… went outside. There were no clouds. There was light pollution, sure, but I could see Orion’s belt, at least.

And just… Just sitting there, looking at the inky black of the sky, hearing the nightbirds and cicadas and crickets and distant traffic, I just… I don’t know. I finally felt like I was a part of it all. A small part, maybe, but an important part. A tapestry is nothing without all the little individual threads, and I was one of those threads. I could finally see that. And I could see the butterfly effect of my actions, my kindness, just my presence. Rippling out from me, to those I loved, to whomever they love, to people I’ve never met, people in other countries. I could see it all.

And I heard the universe sing. Every cell in my body, every atom under my feet and circling through my lungs, every star lightyears away. It was all singing, and I could finally hear it. And it was all just for me, just in that moment.

“You are part of me,” it said. “You will always be. Don’t forget that.”

And I, uh. I haven’t.

The Vast, perhaps more than any other Fear, weaves wonder and dread together beautifully. It’s just awe-striking, for better and worse.

[fear-is-truth]

omfg i'm watching ahs red tide and austin is talking about how he has loads and loads of money and i need someone to talk to about this and so it has to be you. i want him to buy me things. and gimme money

warnings — includes a bit nsfw. mdni

𝒥 : camryn bb im HONOURED u chose ME to talk abt your fav evan. early bday gift for u love u lots xo

austin, who doesn’t do tacky. no cheap & gaudy bullshit. if he’s spoiling you, it’s with the best. anything less is an insult to you (and his vanity)

austin, who lives for the power trip. a neatly wrapped box across the table with a smug little smirk, watching your fingers tremble as you untie the ribbon, waiting to see the awed look in your eyes and the small intake of breath as you lift the lid. he leans in and murmurs, go on, try it on for me.

austin, who is the definition of generous with conditions. designer lingerie, silk robes, expensive heels, perfume…but it’s always for his enjoyment as much as yours.

austin, who spoils you absolutely rotten, but it’s not as easy as unwrapping a box. every gift and luxury he showers you with—comes with a price, and that price is you. you wanna keep that new lace set? you better model it first, strutting across the bedroom as the star of his personal fashion show. you want to wear those heels out? better let him fuck you in nothing but them first. diamond necklace? same drill as the heels.

austin, who has a preference for classic, old-hollywood glam looks. red lace, black satin, white silk. he wants you dressed like his personal starlet. and he loves a good theme. valentine’s day goes without saying: red and pink, garters mandatory. christmas? white lace under with a mink coat. for his birthday—black lace and a red fucking bow wrapped around your waist, because you’re the gift.

austin, who delights in watching you unwrap a new la perla set, expensive lace spilling over your fingers as he leans back on his couch, sipping whiskey. try it on for me, baby. he doesn’t even have to ask. you know the drill.

austin, who never runs out of ways to reward you.

austin, who has impeccable taste and refuses to see you in anything but the best. la perla, agent provocateur, bordelle—expensive things that feel like sin against your skin.

austin, who has no patience when it comes to you in new lingerie. if he buys you something, he wants to see it now.

austin, who never gifts you something boring. diamonds, fur coats, silk scarves, perfume—sure. but also first edition books, vinyl records, antique dolls (whatever you like)

austin, who has an eye for beauty and an obsession with making sure you’re the most beautiful couple in the room.

austin, who loves knowing that under every prim and proper dress, under every cashmere sweater, you’re wearing something scandalous.

austin, who won’t call himself your sugar daddy, but come on. he knows that’s what this is.