#‘You are no daughter of mine when it comes to school’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

not-neverland06 · 1 month

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broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.

Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play.

The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. They’d apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasn’t a meeting. There never was.

They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didn’t give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck.

This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate.

There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say. “He’s ready for you now.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in.

The man didn’t even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed.

He never dressed up for these things. He’d learned a while ago that a suit wasn’t going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks.

“Had a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.” Always an excuse, never an apology.

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

The man sniffed, “I’m sure. Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.” Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The man’s eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. “It’s my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “She a party girl or something?” He wasn’t sure he could handle another bratty daddy’s girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he can’t stand it.

The man’s face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. “Oh, no, not at all. But she’s,” he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. “She’s like you, you know.”

Logan shot him a grin, “You mean a mutant.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, face tightening up in anger. “But, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.” Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didn’t give a fuck about the morals of it all.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect, you can pick her up from school for me.”

You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, you’re surprised that tank top of his hasn’t ripped every time he flexes.

Your dad’s newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack.

There’s something about this man that tells you he isn’t someone looking to jump you, though. You’re not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type you’re looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, he’s trouble.

When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out what’s happening. Your dad had told you he’d hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadn’t voiced just how against it you were, but you didn’t like the idea.

You didn’t mind this guy, though. He wasn’t busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering.

What you couldn’t deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him.

“Did my dad hire you?” You call out, tugging your earbuds out. “Who are you?”

He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. “Your new bodyguard, sweetheart.” You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. He’s extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this.

One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didn’t think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isn’t pretty. He’s extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time.

His lips curl up like he knows what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. “You planning on taking me home on that?” You ask, pointing at his bike.

He straightens up and shrugs. “Got a problem with the bike?”

You grin, “Not really,” but your dad will. “No, not at all.”

You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you don’t land flat on your face. “Sorry, kid,” but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. “Don’t want this flying off.”

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. You’re not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it.

“Ready to go home, or what?” You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat.

“Yes, yeah.” You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. “No helmets?” You ask.

“You heal, don’t you?” You nod and he shrugs. “Don’t need them then, do we?”

You can’t help the giddy grin on your face at that. It’s gotten tiring being treated like glass. You’re about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. “Wait, how do you know I heal?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s such a fucking hypocrite.

Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward.

You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. “You want to go flying?” You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word.

Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. You’re not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesn’t exist.

You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someone’s expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you don’t actually want to experience road rash.

He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you can’t, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off.

“Kid?” He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You can’t tell if you loved or hated it.

He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks. You can’t manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs.

You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. “Shit,” you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her.

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

You flinch at the volume of your father’s voice. “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?”

You don’t know what Logan says, but you’re certain it’s not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadn’t been listening in.

But you’re a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” He asks, pointing back to your father’s, now closed, study.

You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. “If it helps, I was really hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.” It’s refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesn’t kiss your father’s ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while.

You stand from the chair you’d been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.”

The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to get paid. I don’t want to be your friend, kid.”

You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. He’s a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods, “Right,” tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you don’t have to look at him any longer.

You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. It’s a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine.

You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like you’d expected, he’s already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him.

Logan feels a little guilty. You weren’t coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and there’s a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. “Why’s your dad so pissy about the bike?”

You’re a little startled by the question, after the comment he made you’d thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth.

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

“But you heal,” he points out bluntly and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He doesn’t want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldn’t exactly help his campaign, would it?” You can’t even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. “Got any plans tonight?”

You chuckle and give him an odd look. “No,” you respond sardonically. “None at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I don’t even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.”

“Yeah?” he muses, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested. More like he’s talking just to pass the time. “I heard you’ve been having a hard time at school.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen.

Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like he’s not all that surprised or impressed with the display. “Unless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.” There’s no concealing the hate lurking within your words, “And then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. I’ve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to actually continue the conversation. “What do you mean?”

He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, “The anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?”

You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isn’t some politician's son you’re wooing. You’re not the perfect daughter, you’re in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you.

“No.” You answer, voice strong in its conviction. “And every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.”

He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I think we might get along, kid.”

You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You don’t want to be this affected by him, you’ve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesn’t care about protecting your political image or bowing to your father’s every whim.

It’s a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. You’ve already forgotten the rule he’s set in place, you’re not supposed to be friends.

It’s going to be hard to remember that.

Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. “Smile, now.” You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd that’s formed. It’s hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it weren’t for the artists who put it on for you.

Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. You’re almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today.

He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. It’s something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. It’s all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes.

You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. “First, we had to let them into our jobs. Now they’re in our schools! Our children aren’t safe, not when they’ve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because that’s exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-”

“Fuck me,” you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. You’re struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed.

Logan’s brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, “Can you hear me?”

You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. It’s just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles.

There’s movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground.

You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. It’s too late, though, there’s a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. “Fuck you,” he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage.

You hear someone shout your name but it’s too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late.

“Get her out of here!”

As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage.

You can’t focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, there’s an arm being thrown around your shoulder and you’re being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someone’s blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again.

“I know, hold on kid, it’ll be over in a minute.” Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You don’t know how your father’s PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. There’s no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off.

“Car,” you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again.

His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. “What?”

“We gotta get to the car,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. “Can’t let them see.”

He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you.

You take in a deep breath the second you’re no longer in view of the TV cameras. “Fuck,” you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didn’t accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that.

It’s silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his.

His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. “You’re fine, kid.”

You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. “See why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?”

There’s something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else you’re too tired to identify. He’s looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldn’t. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door.

You don’t know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Logan’s already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day.

You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. “Goodnight,” you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut.

You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of today’s incident. “-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I don’t know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybody’s point. They are unsafe.”

“I agree, my thoughts and prayers go out to…”

You roll your eyes as they say your name. They’re saying it wasn’t acid, instead it’s some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you don’t believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow.

Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You don’t focus on the acid, you don’t want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown.

Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. He’d forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what you’re looking for. There’s a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it.

You hadn’t even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesn’t get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had someone look after you like that.

You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. You’re sure he wouldn’t want it back and you’re not planning on parting with it anytime soon.

You’re on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that you’re recovering from the trauma and healing. You don’t know how much longer he’s planning on keeping you locked up but you’re going stir crazy.

Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isn’t around either. He doesn’t need to be, not when the only place you’re in is your room. He’s not a friend, he’s made that clear, but he’s something. And you are desperately craving that specific something.

“It was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.” You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room.

You’re not allowed to be out and about, of course. You can’t risk someone seeing you. But that doesn’t stop you from lurking.

“It was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, I’m sure.” You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasn’t let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasn’t checked in once with you.

“Well,” he splutters for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell he’s just covering his ass. “And it just further proves what I’ve always said about mutants. They are animals, they’re not like us.”

You’d think at a certain point you’d go numb to it. You’ve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.

You feel sick to your stomach and you don’t think you can listen to much more of this. But right as you’re about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the man’s aftershave and your mouth snaps shut.

You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. “Logan, what are you doing here?” You can’t disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you don’t give a shit. He’s a constant in your life and that’s rare for you, so you’ll latch onto whatever comfort you can find.

His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your father’s study and you flush. He’d probably heard all of that. You’ve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. There’s something shamefully embarrassing about it.

He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. “Wanna get out of here?” You’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Uh,” you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your father’s going to pop out of an alleyway. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. He’s leaned up against a lamppost and he’s watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. “Live a little kid, would ya?”

You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. “Okay, there’s a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. How’s it going to look if I’m photographed at a bar while I’m meant to be healing?”

Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. “I can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.” Comforting, and a little humbling.

You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, “Ready, kid?”

You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. You’d be swooning at the touch if you weren’t about to throw up from anxiety.

You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You haven’t been around this many people in ages. Well, you haven’t been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politician’s kid they meet.

The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. You’re sure half of them don’t even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs.

The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, “You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. “Yes, Logan. I’m going into a master’s program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.”

He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, “Find a seat, I’ll get us drinks.” He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it.

Without him beside you, it’s like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like they’re screaming in your face. You’ve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it.

Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know it’s your doing.

You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit.

Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. It’s barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. You’ve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter.

But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle.

He clicks his tongue and stands up, “I’ll go get another one.”

You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to settle in. There’s a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when you’re starting to get aroused. But you don’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt.

Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side.

“Always been a lightweight?” He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey.

You shake your head with a soft smile. “No, I used to go out with my friends all the time.” You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like you’re sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. “We made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.

His brows pinch together and he frowns, “I don’t think so.”

You laugh and lean back in your seat. “You’re the worst!” He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, “What is it?”

“What happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?”

“Oh,” your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. It’s practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. “Um, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,” you shrug, “I don’t know. My life kind of fell apart.”

You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. “I had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.”

Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. It’s a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. “You ever tell him how it was all affecting you?”

You snort, “Of course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You don’t see the way Logan’s eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest.

You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesn’t know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, he’s never really cared much about that.

But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody.

You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

Of course, he’s never been one to follow the rules.

“I am so sorry about this. Really.”

Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you don’t have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Forget it, kid.” He says it with a smirk but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

This will be your first public appearance since the incident. It’s a gala, of course, because your father hates you. He’d demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesn’t want you talking while you’re there. You’re meant for pictures and nothing more.

Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. You’d had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree.

You don’t know what it is that finally made him cave but you’re grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with.

You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own father’s campaign to you. You’d rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesn’t know that Logan is taking you.

You’re planning on ambushing him with it. He can’t do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and there’s no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror.

Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work.

And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. You’re a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you.

“We look good,” you muse.

Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, “You do.”

You give him a confused grin, “I said we.”

He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I know what you said, sweetheart.” Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where he’s touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly.

You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late.”

He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, you’re not reading into anything.

But you don’t know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule.

Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your father’s face screws up in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?”

You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. “A date’s a date.” You pause and grin over at him, “What are you going to do about it?” It’s a taunt, one you don’t give him a chance to respond to.

You’re already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when he’s not there, when you’re just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you don’t let him steamroll you and your opinions.

You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward.

The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?

Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but you’ve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. You’ve never had to worry about where you’re going to sleep next or if you’ll have a roof over your head.

Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together.

But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, you’re just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever.

When it’s clear that he’s going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend she’s interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning.

“Poor woman,” you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face.

“You don’t call her mom,” Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. “Just a little weird.”

“Well, she’s not my mom.” His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. “My bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmom’s interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dad’s pushing for.”

“If he cares so much about family then why don’t you have your dad’s last name?” A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school.

You give him a sly grin, “Took my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.” There’s no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. “He’s been trying to get me to change it for years but he can’t force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend I’m not a part of the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.”

Someone passes by you. A couple you know you’re supposed to recognize but you can’t place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment.

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. “So nice to see you, again.” You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary.

Logan clears his throat, glaring at the man’s drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.

You can’t hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Logan’s intense stare. You’ve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They don’t see you as a human, you are your father’s accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are.

He doesn’t even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the man’s wandering hands. You can’t help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, “What?” He snaps, tone impatient.

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing, you’re just…” You trail off, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. You’re afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That you’ll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, he’s made it abundantly clear that there’s meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck.

You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, “Nothing.” You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until you’re completely out of his reach.

The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night.

Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom.

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. He’d been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money.

You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Logan’s head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. They’re all laughing and chatting like they’re not actively campaigning for the destruction of children.

“Bar?” You ask, already walking towards it.

“Sounds good to me.” His hand is on your back again and you’re grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I don’t belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you.

And when they turn around, posturing like they’re going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. It’s ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily.

“Whiskey,” Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter.

“Just champagne, please,” you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine.

“Don’t know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,” Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing.

You let out a short huff of laughter, “Honestly,” he glances over at you and you shrug. “I’ve got no fucking clue either.” He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out.

“You,” his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. “You make it bearable.”

Logan’s face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what he’s going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way he’s making you feel pitied. He’s never done that before and you don’t want him to start now.

“Don’t,” you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you don’t have to look at him. “I know what you’re going to say, alright. So, just, don’t.”

Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. You’re surprised by the look on his face. There’s no pity in his gaze like you’d expected.

This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You can’t put your finger on what exactly you’re seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. “Listen, sweetheart, I-”

“What the hell are you doing?” You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. He’s glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. “I didn’t bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.”

“Dad!” You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by your father’s words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell.

Your father’s face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. “You’re not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. “Time to mingle.”

He laughs, loudly, enough to make people’s heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. “Sorry, kid, mingling ain’t part of my contract.”

Your jaw drops as you glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. “Deadly,” he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so.

He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches.

All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks.

Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your father’s side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, you’re standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy.

His hand is on your waist and you’re laughing at whatever boring fucking story he’s telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and he’s already struggling against a migraine.

He feels something brewing in his gut, something he’s been trying to just shove down for months. He doesn’t know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side.

“Shit,” he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but it’s hard. He couldn’t have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?

This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. He’d heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isn’t adding up and he doesn’t know if it’s his own jealousy or intuition.

Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you aren’t leaning against him, you’re actively trying to push him away.

It makes Logan’s blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didn’t want to cave some kid’s head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you.

Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. He’d love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesn’t traumatize you.

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns.

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” He had to give it to the kid, he’s got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it.

But he still hasn’t taken his hands off of you and Logan’s not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you.

He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation.

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. “I’m sorry, kid, I just-”

“Logan,” you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and you’re glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you drag us into a closet?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, “Fuck,” he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. There’s a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. He’s managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet.

You’re grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. “What were you thinking?”

Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He can’t help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. “Thought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.”

You scoff and reach for the handle, “Just a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.” You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it.

“Move over,” Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesn’t his face falls.

“Did you miraculously unlock it, genius?” You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. He’s already got a shit temper, he doesn’t need you adding to this.

“No,” he snipes, “but I don’t see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.”

You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. “I didn’t drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?” You demand and he can see how angry you are.

It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like he’s the bane of your existence. He doesn’t know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule.

Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You don’t seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by.

His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss you’d applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitor’s closet.

He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. “Shouldn’t do this here,” he mutters. He’s struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?

He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesn’t have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck.

He’d laugh at your eagerness if he wasn’t just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but it’s one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, “Fuck it.”

You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. “Logan,” you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s what I thought.”

His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear.

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s met with nothing but you dripping for him. “Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. It’s said so quickly he can barely understand you. “What was that?”

“Ugh, god, Logan.” You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I was hoping this would happen.”

When he doesn’t say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He’s staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, there’s nothing but want on his face.

“You wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?”

Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying before you nod your head. “Why?”

The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. It’s predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. “I didn’t want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.” His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He dips his head down and his kiss isn’t as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like he’s savoring the taste.

You can taste the whiskey he’d drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, you’ve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you.

It’s a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth.

Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, you’ve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that you’re supposed to be entertaining.

And when he slips a finger inside you, you don’t care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling you’ve never been able to produce on your own. There’s something so exhilarating about this whole situation.

Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each other’s. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave.

“Logan,” you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. “Please, I just want you.” You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop.

He looks hesitant, but you can see the way he’s straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise you’ve ever heard. You’ve always liked guys who aren’t afraid to be vocal.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up.”

You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you.

You can’t help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. It’s like you’re full of nothing but him. You’d been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up.

You don’t care though, this is all you’ve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. You’ve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does.

He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what you’ve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them.

You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until he’s forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss you’ve smeared across his chin.

“Come on, Logan, don’t tell me you’re all talk.”

His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?” You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You’re trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesn’t see just how much he’s affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, it’s a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him.

“Yeah,” he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesn’t waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like you’re nothing more than a toy.

The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You don’t care. He could rip it off of you and you’d walk outside naked right now.

You don’t care what happens, not when he’s beside you. There’s a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way.

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, you two haven’t known each other long. But there’s not much you’re worried about when he’s moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips.

He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you can’t rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm.

“There you go,” he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. “Come on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.” He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. “Oh, fuck, Logan,” you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze.

“Don’t want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,” he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you.

Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him.

It’s a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.

But you don’t really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when he’s stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. “Alright?” He asks, voice bordering on something smug.

“Mhm,” you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. It’s a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. You’ve got a tear going up to your hip and you’re pretty sure there are holes in the back. Logan’s tie is gone and you don’t even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face.

You’ve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You don’t know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt.

It’s silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You don’t think either of you knows what to say now that you’ve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth.

He’d confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you don’t think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him.

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride.

Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. “Dad-” You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. There’s no hiding what happened here.

He doesn’t let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, “I thought I heard something banging around in here.”

“You did,” Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened.

This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are.

Your father says your name but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “You’re feeling sick,” he tells you, no room for argument. “Your date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.” When you don’t say anything he shouts out, “Understood?” That makes you jump.

“Yes,” you clear your throat and face him. “Yes, understood.”

Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.

But he’s looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back.

You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but don’t say anything, too afraid to argue. “Put his jacket on, I won’t have you looking like a whore.” He releases you with a rough shove and storms off.

You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. “Come on, kid,” he mutters. There’s something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, “Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the lobby feels like you’re walking through a dream. You’re not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like you’re going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened.

You just can’t understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesn’t speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and you’re afraid to even try and start a conversation.

You don’t want to hear him tell you that he didn’t desire you past your body. You don’t want to discover that you’re just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself.

When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress.

You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You can’t do this. You can’t deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said.

You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and it’s like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut.

You throw the door open and you’re nearly out when he calls out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

You don’t look at him, you can’t. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You don’t look back, don’t respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you.

You don’t cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway.

Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, you’re woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake.

You can faintly hear your stepmother’s voice trying to console your father. She’s muttering something to him you can’t make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After you’d cried yourself out you’d taken a shower.

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your father’s at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door he’s screaming your name.

Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you.

But he’s been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You don’t know what to do if you’re not striving for his approval. And right now it’s very clear that he’s never been more disgusted by you.

If the look on his face isn’t enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. “I have never,” he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. “Been more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?”

You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because he’s right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect.

But you’re also pissed off. You’re fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And you’re so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough.

“Have you ever once asked me what I want?” You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, you’ll never get this out. “No, you haven’t. Not once. Because you don’t fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that you’re incapable of loving anyone but yourself.”

You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. “It’s so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. You’re incapable of it!”

You’re embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend you’re stronger than him, not afraid of him. There’s still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesn’t love you.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I don’t care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. I’m glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-”

“Enough!” He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that he’s not even a little bit surprised.

Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. “Dad?” You call out, voice trembling.

“Go to your room,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that you’re not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again.

“I wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. I’d rather have a dead daughter than one like you.”

You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you.

A week of solitary confinement. You’re surprised that you haven’t just been kicked out of college. You’re sure that your father’s many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class.

You don’t care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. You’d just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you.

You’ve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, you’ll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he can’t let you go. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy wallowing in your depression.

Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you can’t find it in yourself to be hungry. You’ll nibble on something, but you feel like you’re going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way.

You haven’t heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But you’d held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon.

But you’ve been naive your whole life, you don’t want to keep going down this road. You don’t want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment.

You haven’t seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, he’d banned you to your room. No one’s said it, but you know you’re not allowed to come out. You don’t know when he’s going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye.

Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadn’t been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy you’ve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it.

You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you can’t stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room.

You know you’ll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off.

You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside.

You hope this will blow over soon, you’re not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt.

A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood.

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize there’s no danger to the situation.

That doesn’t make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you won’t keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that you’re still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin.

He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. “What the fuck are you doing?” You scream at him.

There’s no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. “Well, I was coming to say hi-”

“You say hi by ambushing naked girls?” You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly.

Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. “No, that was just a plus,” he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream.

This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what he’s leading with? Seriously? “You’re a real fucking prince, Logan.” You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. “What happened?” You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that you’re being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you.

You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. “Nothing,” you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “Look,” you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Logan doesn’t look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. “I climbed, I didn’t want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.”

You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. “Look, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. I’m not interested anymore.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You don’t know how you’re going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you don’t really care.

“Enough,” he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing you’ve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. “Look, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, I’m not wanted.”

He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, “Get me out?”

He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. It’s not fair, I was gonna see if you…” He trails off and roughly swallows.

Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. “Logan,” you call his name softly. “See if I what?”

He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. There’s something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. He’s looking at you the same way you always look at him. “You wanna come with me, kid?”

Well, you’d have to be an idiot to say no.

You don’t leave a note. You don’t give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want.

You don’t care, that’s not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Logan’s trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. You’re equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of it.

a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?

Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, it’s absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I can’t write smut.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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bpmiranda · 21 days

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Uncle Logan |l.howlett| nsfw

A/N: a little suggestive content, uncle!logan x faux!niece reader, age gap, mean!logan, underage drinking, punishment, 18+ f!reader, implied consent, cheating(?)

Your father has come to terms with the fact that letting you come and go as you please is less of a hassle for him than trying to control you. Your mother worries about the boys you ride around with and the girls who help you sneak out when she’s tried to lay down the law. At their wit’s end, they find themselves left with one option; send you into the city to live with your Uncle Logan.

“You want me to live with Uncle Logan for the summer?” You ask in disbelief, arms folded and legs crossed as you sit in your bedroom listening to your parents tell you that they’ve basically had too much of you and are sending you away. You knew you weren’t the perfect daughter, but to just send you off like this seemed a bit excessive to you.

While you love Uncle Logan, you’re devastated that you won’t be able to see your friends or your boyfriend on a daily basis. There were plans you had made together to celebrate finally being out of high school. They were being total drags. “Your father and I just feel you don’t have very good influences and a change of scenery might do you some good.” Your mom explains, wringing her hands nervously. “It’ll just be until Uncle Logan thinks your behavior is adjusted.”

“Mom, this is bullshit, I have already graduated. I did my time, right? I finished high school and now I get to have some fun. It’s not fair!” You argue and your dad shakes his head. “Dad!” You groan.

“No, young lady, you need to be looking into college. You’ve gotta start taking your future seriously. Uncle Logan is a good man and a trusted friend of mine, he’s going to whip you into shape.”

That was the end of that discussion and the next week you were sent to the city. “You’re leaving today?” Your boyfriend asked incredulously over the phone as you angrily toss personal items into your bags. “That’s a bummer.”

“Tell me about it.” You mutter, picking up the small framed picture of you and him and carefully setting it in your bag. “Will you come visit me?” You ask, knowing the answer already, but you love how wrapped around your finger you’ve got him.

“Of course I will, baby.” He says and you smile to yourself. “I’ll come sneak you out like usual. No biggie.”

“It might be a little fun with being in the city and all.” You muse as you sit on your bed and wait for the cab your parents arranged for you to arrive. They didnt even think this was something worth taking off work for so they could drive you themselves. “They’ve got the best bars in the city.”

“Hell yeah, we’ll make the best of it, sweet pea.” He reassures you and you sigh contently.

When your taxi cab arrived to take you into the city, you hung up with your boyfriend and begrudgingly got into the yellow vehicle. Overall, it wasn’t a completely terrible situation because it was clear you and your parents could use some distance. Uncle Logan lived in a shitty apartment building that you remembered pretty well and you recall enjoying the visits to the city in the past. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad staying with him. He wasn’t actually your uncle anyway, so maybe he wouldn’t be so strict with you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Logan greets you in his building’s lobby and you give him a big hug. You’re always taken by how very tall and muscular he is each time you see him. Those strong arms wrapping around you protectively, his kind green eyes, that handsome smile - he gives you butterflies. “You sprouted like a weed, huh?” He comments as he set you back down on your feet. “It’s only been a year.” You grin as he takes your bags and leads you upstairs to his apartment.

“Did my parents tell you why I’m here?” You ask as he lets you in and you turn to look at him curiously. Logan gives you a sympathetic look and you chuckle in disbelief. “Of course they did,” You mutter. “So I bet you’ll be keeping a close eye on me.”

Uncle Logan chuckled as he shook his head, walking down the narrow hallway to the bedroom. “No, kiddo, I won’t be.” He turns to look at you, his stare was suddenly hard and domineering, it made you nervous. “Because you’re not going to want to cause me any problems, right?” You find yourself nodding, crossing your arms over your middle. “That’s a peach, c’mon, let’s get your room set up.”

Kind and handsome as he could be, you knew Uncle Logan was different. Hardened by a vastly long past, but you weren’t going to be deterred by his attempts at keeping you locked up. You were good at getting your way.

You’d soon find out, however, that Logan was better at dealing out punishments than preventing the need for them.

After a small dinner, Logan set you up with a small television in your bedroom that only took CDs and a few stacks of your childhood favorites which you had grown out of by now, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. You thanked him and waited for him to leave your bedroom to bring your phone out and call your friends about tonight.

“We’ll come break you out around midnight.” Your friend says over the phone as you sit on your new bed and look out the window at the street below. With nightfall now covering most of the view of the street, the lights make the city look so pretty and everything down there is too dark to make out from the apartment windows, the perfect amount of cover for sneaking out.

“There’s an alleyway across the street from the apartment building,” You tell her. “I’ll be waiting there.”

“Sounds good, see you soon!”

Excitedly, you look through your suitcase for an outfit and settle on a black dress with a deep V neckline that stops right above your navel. The skirt falls at the middle of your thigh where it hugs the shape of you ass and the sleeves are long and a mesh material that cuff at your wrists. As you’re killing time, you fix your hair and make sure it falls exactly where you want it to before you decide to add a little makeup.

- brr brr brr - your phone vibrates and you check the message to see that it says your friends are on the way and your boyfriend is with them. A smile tugs at your lips and you do another mirror check before quietly leaving your bedroom.

You are sure Uncle Logan has gone to sleep by now and you’re quick to hurry out of the apartment, only putting your heels on once you are in the lobby. You smile to yourself as you cross the street and look behind you at the apartment building smugly. “Easy breezy.” You murmur as you step into the alley and wait for your friends to call. It was quite cold and you wished you had brought a coat when you suddenly hear the flick of a lighter. Chills run through your body as you turn around and spot the flame of the zippo lighter illuminating your uncle’s face as he’s lighting his cigar. Fuck, you think to yourself as he takes the few steps that close the space between the two of you.

“Going somewhere?” He asks with a smirk.

“No,” You say straightforward. “I-I’m just-”

“Save it.” Logan says before he drags you back the apartment as you’re protesting and pleading, your heels clicking loudly on the concrete staircase.

“Uncle Logan, this is totally unfair!” You whine as he pulls you back into the apartment and slams the door shut angrily behind him. “Come on, I won’t even be gone two hours!”

Logan wordlessly forces you to sit on the couch in the living room and then he saunters to the kitchen where he grabs a half-full whiskey bottle from the cabinet. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion because you swore he was mad, but he’s going to let you have a drink now? Logan shoves the bottle into your lap and then sits on the couch recliner where he points a finger at you.

“Listen to me, very clearly,” He begins and you feel the blood drain from your body from the fear of his aggressive tone. “I’m only going to say this one time, kid. I don’t give a shit what you think is fair. Do you know why?” You say nothing and he continues. “Because you’re a fucking kid. You don’t get to decide what’s fair as long as you’re living off your father’s money. Got it?” Tears prickle at your eyes, but you blink them away. “Now finish that bottle.”

Your eyes widen and you look down at the liquor bottle, completely taken by surprise. This is far too much for you to drink. “I-I’m-I can’t.” You stammer looking over at him as he’s relighting his cigar.

His eyes were serious and cold as the ember at the end of his cigar pulsed with his toking. “Isn’t that what you were going to do tonight?” Logan asks after blowing a cloud of smoke towards you. “You were going out drinking, right?” Your mouth falls open, but no words come out. “Answer the damn question.” He orders and you sigh.

“Yes, I was going out to drink.” You say in a soft voice, your hands trembling.

“So, drink.” He shrugs. “Go on.”

Slowly, you uncap the bottle and take a deep breath before you take a swig. Your face screws up with disgust as you force yourself to swallow the alcohol, some of it dripping down your chin. It burns down your throat and you gasp, coughing and holding onto your chest. “Uncle Logan,” You say, looking at him with the pout that usually works on your dad. “Please, I can’t drink this.”

“What do you drink when you go out with your friends?” He asks curiously and you feel your face grow hot which makes him laugh. “You’re one of those fruity girls, huh? Vodka cranberries and peach schnapps? You’ve got no business being at bars, you belong at a fucking brunch.” You grow annoyed, a little insulted at the way that he’s taking to you, and he notices. “Did I hit a nerve? Go on, keep drinking, kid. Consider it your punishment and I won’t tell your parents you tried breaking the rules on your first night.”

You angrily take another swig and you groan, shaking your head. More of it spills down your chin, onto your chest. “Fuck!” You spit, wishing he’d just ground you or take your phone. Logan keeps watching you, making sure you drink and drink until you’re feeling the buzz and your eyes are stinging from the burn and your own tears.

“You oughta count yourself lucky, kid,” Uncle Logan says as he puts out the stub of his cigar. “Those boys at the bar would’ve seen a pretty thing like you walk in and roofied your drink, then what? The hell am I s’posed to tell your parents then?”

You pout, crying softly because you are drunker now than you’ve ever been before and it feels awful. “Uncle Logan,” You whine, your grip loose on the bottle as you’re growing dizzy and hot in your dress. “Please, I wanna stop.” You slur, sniffling as you try to tug your dress off by your sleeve. Logan’s eyes fall on the V cut of your dress, your breasts almost exposed as you’re sloppy with your movements, small drops of whiskey running down your middle. Your brows furrow in distress and you cry more, blubbering about wanting to take the dress off, wanting to stop. You’ve drank almost two thirds of what was left in the bottle and he chuckles at what it’s done to you.

“Let me see it, sweetheart.” You reach over to hand him the bottle. “Walk it over here.” He says, watching you with amusement as you wobble to your feet and take three unsteady steps towards him. Logan guides you onto his lap and he takes the bottle from you, turning it up and drinking what’s left at the bottom. You sniff as you watch him, wiping your teary eyes as his free hand settles on your ass. “See that? You’re no drinker.” He says, setting the bottle down and placing a hand on your thigh as he looks at you sniffling on his lap, your red lips pouty and your mascara running. “Is this what you wanted? To go drinking just to get this sloppy? You can’t even handle your alcohol. How were you gonna handle some asshole groping on you all night?” He says, shaking his head as he gently wipes your chin off with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” You murmur, your sight blurry from tears and the alcohol drowning your inhibitions. “I won’t sneak out again.”

“I don’t believe that.” He smirks, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, wiping your tears, and you let your head fall into his palm. “You would’ve been picked up immediately.” He says softly, admiring how pretty you are and he recalls the conversation he had overheard you having on the phone before you snuck out. “Were you meeting a boyfriend?” You nod.

“Adam.”

“What do you and Adam do when you go drinking?” He asks, amused with how tame you are right now.

A smile curls your lips as you think about the things you and Adam do in his car after hitting the bars. You haven’t had sex yet, despite what your parents may think. Not because you’re nervous, but because Adam does whatever you say in the hope of someday getting into your panties. You want to keep it that way for a little while longer. “Stuff.” You blush, grinning at him, fiddling with the buttons of his flannel, and Logan chuckles.

“Does he finger you?”

“Uncle Logan!” You giggle, covering your face shyly.

Logan laughs lightly while caressing your back lovingly. “I won’t tell, sweet girl.” His hand is sliding off your cheek and down your neck, past your collarbones, ghosting over your breast while his thumb lightly traces the now dried line of whiskey drops that ran down your chest, exposed by the cut of your dress. “You sure dressed up real pretty for him.” You let out a soft moan as he tentatively kisses the valley between your breasts and he smells your arousal as it grows in your panties. It smells so sweet and fresh, it makes his mouth water and his cock hard underneath your thigh. His tongue peeks out to lick the whiskey off your skin and you mewl softly, the sound causing many inappropriate thoughts to cross his mind.

“Mm, that feels good.” You whisper, your fist tugging on his flannel and the other hand hooked around his neck. Logan’s got one large hand holding the back of your head as it leans backwards so you give him more access to your body. The other hand is groping your breast while he’s slowly kissing and licking your skin up to your neck and back down just above your belly button, tasting the alcohol you had spilled on yourself. You’re breathing heavily, gasping softly as his tongue and teeth start nipping at your skin, making you grow damp between your legs.

“So fucking pretty.” He murmurs against your sternum making you shudder.

“Uncle Logan,” You breathe out shakily, your thighs clamping together as he slips his hand underneath the skirt of your dress. “You shouldn’t be touching me like this.” You say although you’re not exactly putting up a fight.

Logan kisses your jaw softly, grabbing firmly onto the bottom of your thigh to stop himself from going up any further. “You’re right, sweet girl.” He says and he suddenly lifts you up bridal style, making you giggle as he carries you to your bedroom.

You feel so small in his arms and you find yourself kissing his cheek, humming against his jaw as your fingers lace through his hair. A small groan vibrates in his chest and you smile to yourself. “You like that?” You ask teasingly, kissing his neck as he opens your bedroom door. “Stay with me?” You ask, biting your lip as he lays you in your bed and he only chuckles. You watch as he undoes the straps of your heels and tosses them before he pulls the blanket over you.

“Go to sleep, kid.” He says as he leaves your room.

And you do, the drunken buzz in your head lulling you into a deep sleep.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

Let me know what you think:)

Uncle Logan II

Uncle Logan III

Uncle Logan Epilogue

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x you #x men wolverine #hugh jackman #wolverine x y/n

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educatedsimps · 3 months

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— "ctrl+C, ctrl+V" sakusa kiyoomi

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sakusa kiyoomi x f!reader

a/n: saw a fanart of chibi sakusa and this came to mind so i just had to write this out to get it out of my head 🫠 sorry if my writing's not perfect i wrote this in like an hour HAHAHDHDJSJSHD

cw: FLUFF, parenting au, atsumu being annoying

wc: 586

Kiyoomi had always expressed how much he wanted your kids to have your features - from your hair, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, he wanted them to inherit everything about you. He essentially wanted his kids to be mini clones of you, the person he loved and admired the most in the world.

However, when your first child was born, it was pretty clear that she'd take after her father. Immediately, you noticed birth marks at almost the exact same spot as her father, and as she grew older, her hair started to curl at the ends just like her father's. Unsurprisingly, they had similar personalities too. She was probably the most educated six year old when it came to personal and public hygiene.

And when Reina's little brother was born, you swore they could be twins. That is, if you ignored the eight year age gap between them. Akimitsu, like his sister, took after Kiyoomi. He had the same dark curly hair and sharp eyes as his father, but one difference between him and his sister was that he had a much more outgoing personality. Even at six months old, he was already smiling, laughing, pointing and waving at everyone he passes by.

Today was no different. Strapped to his father's chest, Akimitsu was excitedly pointing towards his older sister practising volleyball in front of him and babbling incoherently. Next to him, the one and only Miya Atsumu was seated on the bench watching his twin boys practice their volleyball skills with Reina. You watched as your husband fished out a pack of tissues and wiped away the drool on his baby's chin.

"Dude, what's up with your sets today? Even Reina can't spike your shit sets and she's a better spiker than me!" Ryūjin exclaimed, pointing accusingly at his brother.

"Shut yer trap, Ryū! Yer just jealous 'cause my sets are still better than yours!" Ryōta retorted. Turning to his friend, he apologised, "Sorry, Reina, I'll work on my sets."

Reina scrunched her face in slight annoyance but acknowledged her friend.

"Y'know, Omi-kun, yer daughter somehow looks even more like you when she does that," Atsumu chortled.

Confused, Kiyoomi looked up at the blonde setter. "Does what?"

"THAT!" Atsumu screeched, pointing at Kiyoomi's face, which was, of course, scrunched up like his daughter's. Kiyoomi hurriedly covered his son's ears at the sheer volume of Atsumu's outburst.

"Will ya keep it down? My kid's gonna go deaf at this rate," Kiyoomi huffed, glaring at Atsumu. The latter sheepishly apologised.

"But for real though, your kids are basically your clones," Atsumu continued, "Guess ya don't have to worry about 'em not bein' yours, right?"

That earned him a hard slap on the back of his head by both you and Kiyoomi.

"THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Atsumu cried, rubbing the back of his head to relieve the pain.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you insinuating?" You spouted, glaring at him. For all the years you had known him — since high school, to be exact —Atsumu had never failed to come up with the most insensitive lines.

"I'm just sayin'! It's cute that yer kids look so much like you!" Atsumu sulked.

"No shit they're mine, baka," Kiyoomi grumbled, the annoyed scrunch once again making an appearance on his face.

Hearing a fit of giggles, you all turned to Akimitsu who was pointing at Atsumu with a gummy smile on his face.

"Ba...Baka!"

The six month old happily clapped and cheered as Atsumu was left dumbfounded.

a/n: sakusa’s children would 100% inherit his curly hair YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE like it’s literally so cute. they’d have the same scrunched face when they’re annoyed AND IT'S FREAKING ADORABLE anyway i titled this one ctrl C ctrl V for obvious reasons HAHA

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #lyssa.writes #simps.write #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff

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stillmonsterz · 6 months

Text

you know i'm down

pairing: jay x reader

genre: smut

summary: it's march 2020 and you're stuck in the house with your stepfather during lockdown. can the two of you keep it together?

warnings: stepcest, unprotected sex, swearing, dubcon, panty-sniffing, virus mention, COVID implication (?),

word count: 3.8k

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, things are getting crazy, but try to keep your head up, yeah? You’ll be safe,” Jay said into his phone, his forehead creasing as he spoke. His newly wedded wife had taken a trip to visit her mother shortly after their marriage, but now the government was advising that she stay where she was. The news was scaring her, and it scared Jay, too, but he couldn’t let her know that. He was her steadfast protector, her bastion, and so he reassured her that everything would be okay.

“And you’ll take care of her too, yes?” she asked firmly, referring to her daughter.

“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of her like she’s mine,” Jay said, rubbing his forehead. “I promise.”

“You’re so good with her,” his wife said. “You know, she really likes you, right?”

“I really like her, too,” Jay said softly, and it was the truth. His wife and her daughter had moved in with him three short months ago, and neither of them had caused trouble. On the contrary: Jay wished that he could see more of her daughter so they could be closer. He wanted to be a good stepfather, but she was always holed up inside of her room.

They exchanged goodbyes, I love yous, and promises to stay safe, and then Jay was alone on the couch with his own thoughts. If he sat there for too long, stewing in fear, he would lose his mind. Jay turned the television on and checked the news. They were strongly advising people to stay put for at least two weeks, and Jay made a mental note to coordinate with his employees about this in a few hours. No point riling people up and forcing them to worry about work so early in the day.

Jay was sitting on the couch with lips set in a line when you had tentatively crept down the stairs, worry etched on your features. He turned the television off and assessed you carefully. You were so similar to your mother in stature and facial features, but Jay doubted that his wife would ever don the dolphin shorts and hoodie combination you were so fond of wearing. Of course, you made it look cute. You shuffled over to him, wringing your hands.

“Mom really can’t come back?” you asked, hovering near the other end of the couch.

Jay nodded, setting his phone on the side table. “Yeah, they really want to curb the spread of the virus,” he said, smoothing his hands down his legs. “She’ll be okay, though. There’s a lot of food at her mom’s house, and she won’t be alone. It’ll only be two weeks.”

Your lower lip trembled, and you looked away from Jay as you tried to calm yourself down. You rubbed your hands along your arms, and Jay could see that you had goosebumps. “You don’t think she got it, do you?” you asked in a wavering voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jay said quietly. “Look at me.” When you refused, obstinately staring at the ground, his voice became firm. “Look at me.”

You lifted your head, and he spread his arms and gestured for you to come to him. He wrapped you in his embrace, rubbing your back. You leaned on him, kneeling in between his legs as you hugged him tightly. “There’s no way that she caught it,” Jay said soothingly. “She’s been with her family the entire time. She hardly went off their property.”

“I’m just so worried. I’ve never lived through anything like this before,” you said falteringly, pulling away so you could look at his face. Jay knew you were looking at him to check for chinks in his armor, a sign of doubt. He pulled his features into a convincing mask of resoluteness and confidence.

“It’ll all be okay,” he said, running his thumb along your cheek. “Look on the bright side, you won’t have to commute to school for two weeks.”

You chuckled, looking down as you smiled. “You’re right, Jay.” Jay liked that you didn’t try to call him Dad or Daddy. When he had first met you after a few months of dating your mom, he had been pleased to find that you weren’t the archetypal bratty stepdaughter. Instead, you were sweet and intelligent, and you hardly asked him for a thing. Jay stroked your hair comfortingly and kissed your forehead.

“You wanna watch a movie together? Would you like that?” You nodded your assent, and Jay reached around for the remote and went on Netflix. He put something lighthearted on for you, and shortly after the movie started you rested your head on his chest. Belatedly, Jay realized that it might be somewhat inappropriate to hold you like this, with you curled up in his arms, kneeling between his legs. But you were so worried, and you needed a guiding figure there, so what else could he do?

Jay continued to rub your back as you watched the movie together. At some point, though, Jay’s attention permanently moved from the film onto you, and he studied your features closely. His wife was a very pretty woman, and started to realize that her daughter was a very pretty girl.

Maybe this lockdown wouldn't be so bad, if he could get closer to you.

–

The next day, Jay took stock of everything in the kitchen. Thankfully, they tended to bulk-buy, so he didn’t think that they would have to go shopping for two weeks. Yesterday, you hadn’t eaten dinner, blaming your nerves for curbing your appetite. He decided to surprise you with a pancake breakfast. He smiled as he imagined you eating pancakes. You’d look so adorable with full cheeks…

As he started to gather the ingredients, he heard footsteps padding on the tiled floor.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly. Jay turned to face you, and his breath caught. You were rubbing your eyes, looking around the kitchen, and you were so cute. Jay swallowed thickly and returned his attention to the array of supplies in front of him.

“Just making breakfast,” he mumbled. “Pancakes.”

“Can I help?” He heard you come closer, and he could smell your body wash. It was fruity and playful; something from Victoria’s Secret or Lush, a store like that. It went so well with your natural fragrance, Jay had to resist the urge to sniff the air.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jay replied, kneeling down to find where the pans were stashed. It was his house, but his wife had reorganized the kitchen to her liking, so he had trouble finding things.

“I want to help,” you said, and Jay looked up at you. A mistake. How could he refuse those earnest eyes of yours?

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he came off as nonchalant. He gave you some instructions, well-aware that his voice was somewhat strained. Jay watched you bustle around the kitchen, shamelessly checking you out. Guilt nipped at him, but he reasoned that it was just looking. There was nothing wrong with looking. And when you wore little shorts like that, you were asking to be looked at, really.

Jay snapped himself out of it and returned his attention to cooking. He flipped the pancakes without using a spatula, and you clapped. “I wish I could do that,” you said.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Jay wrapped your hand around the end of the pan and covered it with his own. “You have to utilize a certain flick of the wrist, but put pressure on your index finger, your middle finger, and your thumb…” When you successfully flipped a pancake with his help, you giggled, and he felt warm. Like a proud father, he thought. Just like a proud father.

As you two ate breakfast together, he could see your happiness returning. You must have been so worried about your mother, and he was glad to see you shoveling pancakes in your mouth and laughing about some video your friend had sent you.

“You’ve got syrup all over your mouth,” Jay said, smiling. Before you could wipe it yourself, Jay wet his thumb and wiped it off, relishing in the opportunity to touch your lips. “I bet you were such a messy kid,” he murmured.

“I was,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. “My mom was always running after me with Wet Wipes.”

Jay chuckled at the thought, retracting his thumb. “I’m sure she didn’t mind. You were probably a cute kid, too.”

You groaned. “I was so cute. I have no clue what happened.”

You got pretty, Jay thought.

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips, and Jay realized that he had carelessly complimented you.

Jay cleared his throat. “Of course you are,” he said, desperately trying to center himself. “You look just like your mother.”

You nodded, still looking pleased with the compliment, and Jay could feel his heart racing out of his shirt. You were going to be the death of him.

–

The next day, after dinner, (another collaboration between the two of you), you had announced that you would do the laundry. Jay shook his head and handed his plate to you. “You do the dishes,” he said, smiling slyly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”

You begrudgingly took the plate and stacked it on top of yours. “I hate doing the dishes.”

Jay laughed and ruffled your hair as he walked past you. “Doing things you hate builds character,” he called behind his shoulder.

As soon as he got upstairs, he made a mad dash to your bedroom to retrieve your laundry basket. He didn’t have a lot of time. Jay opened your door and bent down to examine the white hamper. Pawing through your clothes, he shakingly retrieved a pair of your panties. It was painfully conservative. Weren’t girls your age supposed to be wanton little sluts? He held it up, examining it closely. Common sense told him to put it back, morality told him to put it in the hamper, and his own conscience was screaming at him to just drop the fucking panties. But something stronger compelled him to hold the panties to his nose and sniff them deeply. Your scent was intoxicating, and he sighed. Jay took a few more deep sniffs before he dropped the panties back into the hamper and walked down to the laundry room.

It was lockdown, he concluded as he set the basket down. Lockdown was driving him crazy, turning him into a libidinous beast. Never mind that it had only been three days - three days was enough. Three days of being forced to watch as your stepdaughter pranced around in shorts that just barely hid her tight little ass, of having to smell her, of knowing that there was pussy that he couldn’t get to…that would drive a monk to drink. As long as he didn’t act on it, Jay reasoned, he’d be fine.

Over the next week, you and Jay had fallen into a routine. You ate breakfast together, then you dispersed to your separate rooms- you had to do online school, and Jay had to navigate running a business over Zoom. You would eat lunch together, discussing the virus, your problems, or just comfortably sitting in silence.

Then you squirrel away back to your room. When that happened, Jay would generally do two things in an interchangeable order. He would either retire to his office and read a business management book or go over his emails, or he would rub his dick raw in his ensuite bathroom to the thought of stepdaughter pussy. Pornography wasn’t necessary; he could just close his eyes and imagine you in those stupid shorts, imagine you taking them off and crawling towards him, imagine his hands groping your forbidden body.

After that, he would cook dinner for the two of you, and you would watch a movie together. You liked to rest your head on his shoulder, saying that that’s how you and your mother would watch movies. So Jay would wrap his arm around you, his other hand clenching the armrest of the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white as he tried to fight off his basest urges. After that, you would go to your room, and Jay would go to his room and edge himself for half an hour.

Then, he would text your mother and tell her that he loved her.

–

A week after the lockdown had been announced, Jay checked his appearance in the mirror in the living room and frowned. He had a meeting in an hour, but he noticed that he was developing a unibrow. Normally, his wife would help him pluck the hairs.

You walked downstairs and noticed Jay scowling at himself. “What’s wrong?” you asked, standing next to him. By now, just your scent went straight to his cock, making it stir, and Jay sighed.

“Your mom’s not around, so now I’m turning into a caveman,” he said, pointing at his eyebrows.

Your face brightened. “I can pluck them for you!”

Jay’s face fell, but he quickly put on a mask of indifference. “Oh, you don’t have to, I can figure it out,” he said, waving his hand.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jay? It’ll be so fun. It’ll be therapeutic. Please?”

You were the devil, he decided, the devil cloaked in the vestments of a college student. “Fine,” he relented, and you cheered.

Jay wearily stood next to the mirror as you sprinted up the stairs to get your tweezers. You bounced back down shortly, opening and closing the tweezers with the steeliness of a surgeon.

“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing at the couch in the living room. Jay obeyed, sitting down on the far end of the couch. You straddled his waist.

“What are you doing?” Jay asked, his voice somewhat panicked.

“I have to get close to you,” you replied. Jay realized that his reaction was unwarranted and he was doing a shit job of acting like he didn’t want to fuck you, so he nodded.

As you plucked his eyebrow hairs, Jay rested his hand on her waist to stabilize you. He stared at you as you worked; you were so lovely when you focused. Jay decided not to fight it, just for now. He languidly rubbed a circle around your waist as you plucked his eyebrows, and his other hand rested on your knee. If Jay tried, he could almost forget who you were. He could just pretend like there was no relation, that you were a stranger, that it wasn’t wrong to feel like this.

“Done!” You put the tweezers on the side table and examined his brows by tilting his head this way and that. Jay continued looking at you. He leaned back so that he was resting fully on the armrest, and your chest pressed against his due to the slight shift in position.

Jay’s voice was low and rough. “How does it look?” His hand still caressed your waist over your hoodie, and he noted that you made no move to get up.

“Very nice,” you replied, both hands still on his face. “You look very handsome now.”

Jay smiled slightly, looking you up and down. “Yeah?”

You looked in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

Jay wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, but he did know that he was the one who deepened the kiss. You tasted incredible, and you weren’t a bad kisser, either. Your lips were soft and you took your time; your hands still cupped his cheeks. Jay’s hand slipped from your waist and worked its way up your hoodie, resting on your stomach. His other hand crawled up your leg, and he was endlessly grateful that you wore those dolphin shorts all the time.

You were the one who probed your tongue at the entrance of his mouth, and you were the one who ran it along his teeth. He stroked his tongue along yours, tilting his head even further. Your hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his shoulders.

Strangely enough, as he made out with his stepdaughter, Jay felt no qualms. All he could focus on was how good it felt, on how warm your little mouth was, on the way your body tensed as he ran his hands over you. Jay brought his hand higher, from your stomach to your ribs, until it was resting just below your breasts. He waited for you to pull away, to tell him to stop, but when you didn’t, he continued. Jay’s hand cupped your breast, and he briefly broke the kiss.

“You didn’t wear a bra?” he asked in an accusatory tone, kneading your breast.

You shook your head.

“You wicked little minx.”

You shrugged, placing your hands behind his neck. “I normally don’t wear bras around the house. I mean, it’s just you and me in here.”

“No,” Jay whispered. “It’s not ‘just’ me.” Jay leaned in to kiss you with renewed fervor. His other hand slipped up into your shorts, fondling your upper thigh. Gently, Jay began to push you down onto the couch, until he was resting his full body weight on top of you. His hand groped at your chest, and he used both of his hands to pull your hoodie off. Finally, finally, he would get to see your body without a massive piece of fabric hiding it.

Jay moaned as soon as he saw your naked torso. He momentarily stopped kissing you to suck your tits. Both of his hands ran up and down your thighs, and he relished in your little gasps and whimpers. Jay took his mouth off of your breast and looked up at you. “You like that?”

You nodded, your face contorted in pleasure. “I like it, Jay.”

You had all but given him the green light to do whatever he wanted to your body, and almost without his knowing he began grinding his hips against yours. After leaving sloppy kisses all over your breasts, Jay kissed you again, sucking your tongue over and over again.

He continued to rut against your clothed pussy, the friction assuaging the painful stiffness he felt in his cock. Jay knew he was pathetic. He knew how degenerate, how desperate, how sick he was. Only a freak would dry hump their stepdaughter on the couch. He didn’t even last an entire week. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to fully care, let alone to stop. Jay ground his crotch into yours, pressing you deeper into the couch, and he groaned in your mouth.

His hands were all over you now, stroking your back, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and he was dimly aware of your own hands snaking up his shirt.

Jay broke the kiss again, sweat dripping down his nose. “You can’t tell anyone,” Jay said frantically as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Got that? Not your friends, not your classmates, not your mom. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely, your lips already swollen. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Jay tossed his belt to the side and tugged his jeans down. “Our little secret, right?”

You shimmied out of your shorts. “Our little secret.”

Jay slid your panties down your legs and parted your legs, pushing one up the couch and leaving the other to hang off of the side. He glanced at you as he worked his cock a few times. “Are you a virgin?”

You shook your head.

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I’d never fuck a virgin the way I’m about to fuck you,” Jay said. Your eyes widened in apprehension, and Jay smiled.

He pushed himself inside of you roughly. As soon as he felt your pussy tighten around his cock, its warmth enveloping him, he swore. “Oh, fuck.” Jay kept your legs pushed open as he inches himself into you. At first, he shallowly thrusts into you with about half of his length. You’re already shuddering like a whore, whining and shaking, but you aren’t wet enough for his liking. Jay reached his hand down and stroked at the area above your vagina lips, eventually finding your clitoris. He rubbed it, just enough to get you nice and sopping wet. It didn’t take long, either; you must have been as pent-up as he had been, judging by the way you were gasping. Even just a few inches had you stuttering out some words that would make your mother blush.

He pulled out of you slightly, swirling his hips, before slamming his cock into you again. You moaned, a sound so gorgeous that he had to continue. Jay pounded your pussy mercilessly, his hands keeping your legs split open. His balls slapped against your thighs almost painfully as he kept up his pace.

“Should have done this at the start,” Jay huffed. “Should have been inside you the second lockdown started.”

You opened your eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

Good question. Why hadn’t he just fucked you like this when you had come running to him for comfort? Why had he bothered waiting? For propriety? For politeness? None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock.

Jay smiled slightly as he imagined how your mother would react to this: her daughter splayed out on the couch, her tits bouncing up and down, her hand covering her mouth so her moans won’t echo all over the house, and her stepfather in between her legs, fucking her ruthlessly. The scary thing was, Jay didn’t think he could stop even if your mother had walked in. Your pussy felt too good, too tight, too warm, too inviting.

You were so wet that Jay could hear it, his cock making obscene noises as it ravaged your hole. Jay pulled out of you, breathing heavily. He dragged you from the couch and laid you flat on the rug.

“On all fours,” he said raggedly. “Now.”

You were weak, but you obeyed his instructions, displaying your red, aggravated pussy for him. Jay mounted you and fucked you like a dog, chasing his orgasm. His hands groped around your chest and he grabbed your tits while he pounded you. He leaned his head back and let out a primal moan.

Soon, your arms gave out and you collapsed onto the floor. Jay didn’t pull out of you, couldn’t pull out of you. He braced his arms on either side of you and slammed into you, pressing his entire body weight onto you.

He felt his orgasm approaching, and he sped up, grunting and groaning. Jay felt like he would die if he didn’t cum, and he fucked into you mindlessly. When his orgasm hit, he let out a strangled scream. He could feel the pleasure from his cock all the way to his fingertips; his hairline tingled as he emptied himself out in your pussy.

Jay didn’t know what he would do next. He didn’t know how you would act around each other. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had to do this again and again with you.

#jay x reader #jay smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #I don't like the title...

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seventeenpins · 7 months

Text

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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iamred-iamyellow · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Nueva Vida - [Part 2]

♥ prev | masterlist

♥ pairing: platonic f1 grid x latina!fem!engineer!reader x lando norris

♥ smau + written (reader is lewis' ferrari race engineer)

♥ none of the pictures are mine - face claim: wolifecindy on insta & girls on pinterest

♥ warnings: misogyny, swearing, mentions of alcohol, suggestive language !!!

♥ a/n: I'm so sorry if my Spanish is incorrect, I'm a no sabo kid.

♥ taglist; @the-holy-trinity-l, @formulaal, @jxnellat, @aldene-styles, @thecubanator2

ʏ/ɴ ʟ/ɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴏᴛᴏʀꜱᴘᴏʀᴛꜱ, ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴜꜱɪᴇ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Vogue Article Snippet-

Though she has been not in the spotlight for long, Y/n L/n has certainly made an impact on Formula 1. Alongside other amazing female influences such as Hannah Schmitz and Bernie Collins, Y/n continues to be a role model for women in the sport.

-Vogue Interview-

"So, Y/n what were your experiences like coming up to F1? I can only imagine the difficulties that come with being a woman in motorsports."

"It definitely was a challenge. Hate really got to my heart when I was younger and fresh out of high school. With the amount of misogyny I've faced and the lack of representation, I've almost given up too many times." you said, thinking back to your early days in F3. "I had to push myself and remember why I was here. First and foremost my passion for the sport. I've been an F1 fan since I was a kid and I wasn't going to toss away my dream due to bigoted men around me. They wanted to see me fail and I wasn't going to let them succeed."

"Beautifully said. I know the fans have a nickname for you... "Susie Wolff's daughter" how do you feel about this?"

"It's definitely something," you laughed softly. "No, I love it. Susie was and continues to be a role model of mine. I'm definitely glad we have a program like F1 Academy being directed by her. I hope I can inspire girls the same way she does."

"I have one more question for you: What are your plans for the future? Was F1 the ultimate goal or is there still something you're chasing?"

"F1 was definitely the dream. It's absolutely unreal that I'm working with Ferrari and the one and only Lewis Hamilton. As far as my future, I don't have any current plans. I want to enjoy my time here before I start considering any sort of possible change."

The interviewer nodded and jotted down a few notes

"Thank you for your time Y/n." she smiled.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, roscoehamilton, and 562,856 more

yourusername prêts pour la belgique / bereit für Belgien <3

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yourbestfriend pick me. choose me. love me.

*liked by yourusername*

user4 so SO real for that

user7 that waffle looks so good wtf

user8 her speaking french and german 🥺

user14 polygot queen

user10 WHERES MYSTERY MAN

user3 ROSCOE!!!

user9 manifesting a Ferrari 1-2

user82 didn't think I could hate her more

user10 bruv what did she do 😭

user1 she had the audacity to exist as a women in sports

user60 she's still here?

user7 wdym by that?

user60 figured they would've fired her by now

user19 you're so pretty

user14 my home country <3

yourusername @/charles_leclerc so when were we getting a Leo roscoe crossover?

user2 its a crime that it hasn't happened yet

charles_leclerc they can meet in budapest

yourusername that better be a promise

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 632,394 more

scuderiaferrari Ferrari 1-2 in Spa. Let's keep pushing ❤️

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yourusername congrats lew and charlie <3 you both drove an amazing race

user1 "lew" "charlie" 🥹

user8 shes the cutest :(

user14 "thank you y/n" we all say in unison

lewishamilton thank you y/n

charles_leclerc thank you y/n

landonorris thank you y/n

user7 Lando you're not even a ferrari driver 😭

user9 MANIFESTING WORKED

user15 and how come y/n's not in this post

user3 wheres y/n?

user8 they're trying to silence women

user9 confirmed women haters

user5 GET IN THERE LEWIS

user12 I'm crying they're 1-2 in the championship too hdjdjddj

user14 I need them to go pull Adrian Newey out of retirement now

user2 ❤️forza ferrari❤️

fredrikvesti WE MISS YOU AT MERCEDES

yourusername me or Lewis?

georgerussell63 neither

yourusername @/georgerussell63 and I thought we were friends

georgerussell63 you're traitors 🫵

user5 I love that this is a running joke

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Time Skip: Mexico-

liked by francisca.gomes, shecoperez, and 347,629 more

yourusername had to visit rosarito before I head to mexico city

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yourbestfriend we NEED a girls trip here

yourusername you, me, kika, lily mhe

lilymhe I’m so there

user12 welcome to mexico!!!

user14 how is she so pretty 😭

user18 those tacos look so good

user90 🤢

user3 bros so weird

user19 imagine going out of your way to comment that

user1 so aesthetic

user20 ❤️❤️❤️

user17 your so gorgeous

scuderiaferrari the mexico f1 parties go crazy

yourusername fuck yea !!!

user6 what’s admin doing here

user15 I have an undying love for f1 insta account admins

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by shecoperez, carlossainz55, and 693,240 more

yourusername oh we are SO back @/landonorris @/mexicogp

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yourusername @/shecoperez congrats on your home race win ❤️🇲🇽

shecoperez gracias

yourbestfriend CACKLING over that picture of Lando

user7 the sombrero is the cherry on top 😭

user1 I'm obsessed with the mexico gp

user10 her side profile >>>

user17 you're gorgeous

user6 lando's face 💀

user4 the race was amazzingg

user7 plus we got a Charles podium !

user67 maybe if she spent more time working instead of posting about her life they would have won

user9 dude...

user1 nah caus that's CRAZY 😭

user8 @/user67 hombre jodete

user12 SHES SO PRETTY

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by fernandoalonso, georgerussell63, 942,394 users

landonorris @/yourusername, @/fernandoalonso, @/georgerussell63

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user14 who's mouth is y/n pouring alcohol into? 😭

georgerussell63 no one knows

user6 PLEASEE 💀

user1 dj Lando 🫦

user8 SO REAL

user19 lando tho 🤭

user2 nando*

user19 honestly yea

user7 giggling, twirling my hair, kicking my feet

user5 dj lando save me...

user5 dj lando

user5 save me dj lando

user6 I WANNA BE SAAAVEEED

user6 carmen is so pretty

user8 I love them

user4 *me patiently waiting for a chaotic insta story*

user3 wheres max?

yourusername drunk, looking like a frat boy, with a group of men I've never met

user10 sounds like max

user9 dj Lando AND frat boy max?!?!?

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lewishamilton, francisca.gomes, pierregasly, and 453,482 more

yourusername me and my favorite man in Brasil

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landonorris I thought I was your favorite man

yourusername that's awkward 😬

oscarpiastri that's so embarrassing for you

user7 sassy oscar >>>

francisca.gomes Ill see you in the paddock <3

yourusername ily pookems see you there

user8 obsessed with their friendship

user6 lewis looks so good

user17 SURFER LEWIS !!!

user4 NEED that brasil tank top

user9 begging for a closet tour

user5 anyone else sensing some romantic tension between y/n and lando?

user10 YES absolutley

user23 they're just friends

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 539,349

landonorris puede que no sea el primero en tu corazón, pero al menos he llegado el primero en la carrera

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yourusername THATS SO SAD I was just joking earlier with lewis I swear you're absolutely first in my heart 🥺❤️

user13 AWWW

user17 *sobs*

user2 I can't be the only one who thinks they're in love

user8 LANDO 😭💔

user9 *clutches heart*

user7 shoulda said this in portugese :/

user1 not everyone can speak a thousand languages like y/n

user12 lando puts the bi in bilingual

user9 lmao the mood change

user10 lando nowins

user11 lando twowins

user4 LANDO WINS THE BRAZILIAN GRAND PRIX !!!

maxverstappen1 congrats on your win mate

*liked by original poster*

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Abu Dhabi-

The Italian anthem was chanted by the Ferrari team as Lewis, Max, and Charles stood on the podium.

"Stringiamci a coorte! Siam pronti alla morte. Siam pronti alla morte, L'Italia chiamò..."

Champagne drenched your body causing confetti to stick to your hair and skin. It was certainly a battle between the three who were all tied in the points going into today's race. Lewis crossed the finish line first causing the entire atmosphere to change. The crowds and the Ferrari garage erupted in applause and gleeful cheers.

Everyone was still overjoyed as you looked down at the crowd below the podium you were standing on. You quickly pulled a few pieces of confetti off of yourself and the champagne bottle you were holding, stashing them in your pocket.

You hugged Lewis tightly as you congratulated him on his eighth world championship and he thanked you for all your hard work. It was an incredible piece of history you had the honor to be a part of.

-F1 Winter Break-

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 693,482 more

yourusername took my (favorite) man to panama. te amo <3

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georgerussell63 took you long enough

carlossainz55 so this is why you denied my invitation to spain

user8 lando just casually cheating on carlos right in front of his eyes 😔

user10 the last picture hello ?!?!?

user15 they're so cute

lilymhe literally couple goals

yourusername no you and alex !!!

landonorris @/yourusername you don't think we're couple goals?

user2 stop breaking his heart like that y/n

maxfewtrell last picture creds?

yourusername 😐

user7 @/maxfewtrell why are you taking pictures of them like making out 😭

user6 why's max even on their romantic getaway anyway fhfjsks

user9 BABE WAKE UP NEW Y/N X LANDO CONTENT

lewishamilton nos vemos la próxima temporada

yourusername congrats on your championship - nos vemos la próxima temporada lewis <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: I hope this was a good end to the mini series ! tysm for all the support on the first part and ty for reading ♥

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year

Text

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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gguk-n · 1 month

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Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

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queen-of-the-avengers · 2 months

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Mr. Right Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, past trauma of not feeling good enough, it's better off being alone angst, minor fluff at the end

Summary: As a divorcee with three kids, it’s hard to open up to men and allow them into your children’s lives. You’re a single mother who is just trying to get through each day until you meet Bucky. He might be the one you’ve been searching for all this time. Can you put aside your fears enough to let him in?

Squares Filled: band (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The only time you’re able to go to the grocery store in the summertime is when you don’t have your kids hanging off your every limb. Your oldest daughter and son are at a summer camp you were able to get them into while your youngest daughter is being watched by your mother who had some time for you to get errands done.

Whoever said parenting was the best thing in the world was lying because you want to cry most days. It’s not that you don’t love your children, you absolutely love them with all your heart. You want nothing more in the world than to be their mom but it’s hard some days. You’re a single mom to three kids which takes a lot out of you. You have no time to do anything for yourself. Whenever they’re at school, you spend your days taking care of your baby girl and cleaning the house only for them to return and mess it up all over again.

Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it’s not for everyone. However, when you had your kids, you weren't alone. You had a husband who you thought would be with you forever. Then, you caught him with a twenty-year-old in your bed and that set you back decades. It took you a long time to find someone else after him, which you did, and you thought you had gotten your second chance at love.

He was a breath of fresh air after struggling for years. You only had two kids at the time but it was still a handful since they were both so young. You and your second husband had a daughter together, and you thought this was it. This is your family.

Then, he left without warning. He told you that he didn’t love you anymore and wanted nothing to do with you or your kids. He threatened to take Abby but you fought him through a lawsuit. He was bouncing between homes and didn’t have a steady income, all of which you had. If you thought your first husband was bad, your second husband broke you completely.

You swore off men after that. All you want to do is take care of your kids and live life on your own. It’s hard but you know you can do it. Your mother has been very supportive of you and helps out when she can but she’s much older and can’t do stuff like she normally could. Your father passed a decade ago so neither of you have him to fall back on. Your brother and sister moved out of the country when they turned eighteen and haven’t looked back since.

You’re truly on your own which you never minded until now.

You fill your shopping cart as you go down the list you made before leaving the house, and you look at the next item on your list. You’re not looking where you’re going and almost run into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp and look up.

You gasp again but it’s not from the shock of running into him. This man is… You don’t think you ever saw a more handsome man in your life. He’s tall, like a whole foot taller than you, and has dark hair that is not too long. His eyes are bright blue oceans and he is very muscular.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry,” you mutter.

You’re about to move around him to continue your shopping when he stops you.

“I haven’t seen you around here and I come here every week.”

“Oh, yeah. I usually get my groceries delivered but I had some time today to do it myself.”

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles.

Damn, he has such a great smile, too.

“Y/N.”

“Do you care for some company while you finish?”

“Sure,” you smile. “So, Bucky, have you lived in Washington D.C. for long?”

“On and off. I used to live here years ago. I just recently came back and am now living with my two best friends. You?”

“I just moved here a year ago. I had to get away from… stuff… I used to live in Nevada and thought a change would do me good.”

“Lucky me that you did,” he flirts.

You can’t help the blush that forms on your face. You’re not used to compliments. You finish the rest of your shopping quickly but you don’t want to stop talking to Bucky. He’s the first man you have had such an easy conversation with in a long time. Your mom wants you to put yourself out there again and try dating but you can’t think of anything worse than that. Dating means bringing a new man into your kids’ lives who will probably leave you. You’re not going to do that to them again so you’ll settle for stolen conversations in the grocery store.

Still, you find yourself not wanting to leave the store because then you’ll have to stop talking to Bucky. However, when your mom calls about Abby crying because she’s hungry and you haven’t pumped a bottle for her. She can eat solid food but she loves your milk more. You’re trying to transition her into solid foods but it’s a work in progress.

“Sorry. I have to get back home.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, though. Maybe I’ll see you back here again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods.

You’re gone before he can ask you for your number. You can’t stop thinking about Bucky. You never met a man who could invade all your senses. Your mother left after you got back and you spent the next hour feeding your daughter and putting the groceries away. You put your daughter down for a nap when your phone rings. You take the call when you get to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Y/N! You know that band that Leslie goes on and on about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re playing a gig at The Twisted Bar this weekend. You gotta come with us!”

“I don’t know. I have Abby and I don’t have a sitter.”

“Bring her here. My husband would love to watch her. He’s been so tied with the boys that it’d be nice to watch a girl.”

“Are you sure? What if she gets hungry? She only seems to want my milk.”

“Then pump before coming here. It’s been such a long time since we all went out. Just once stop worrying about your kids. Jace and Lizzy are at camp and it’s likely Abby will sleep the whole night.”

You’re still not sure. Going out with your friends usually ends in one of two ways: either you end up going home early because your kids need you or you end up going home early because all the girls want to do is flirt with men. They’d never cheat on their husbands and they never take it past the occasional flirty comment. When they get like this, guys love to flirt with you and that’s when you call it a night.

You’re not some horny teenager looking for a fun time. You have kids and if these men knew about it, they’d never flirt with you. It’s tiring to go to bars and reject every man because you know what it’s going to lead to.

Still, it’d be nice to go out with your friends since it’s been so long.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but I’m not going there to take some man home.”

“Got it. This is going to be so much fun! Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll bring Abby over at five, then. We can leave together but I’ll need my car just in case.”

You and Emma talk for a little while longer until you hang up. Friday comes quicker than you’d like, and you had just dropped Abby off at Emma’s house. You’re nervous to leave her alone but you’ve been friends with Emma and Robert for decades so you figure you’d trust them with your kids sooner or later.

You and Emma arrive at The Twisted Bar right after Leslie, Jackie, and April get there. It’s a reunion of the decade since you haven’t seen April in years and Jackie for longer. It’s been hard finding time away from your kids.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally made it!” Leslie squeals and pulls you into a hug.

“Eh, I figure it’s time to see my girls.”

“It has been a long time,” April comments.

Leslie grabs drinks while you sit at a table that’s near the band that’s setting up. Leslie has been in love with them ever since she saw them opening for Bon Jovi a few years ago. They’ve been slowly rising to fame but they love playing in small bars to stay connected to their fans. Leslie comes back with the drinks and you sip yours leisurely while your friends down theirs quickly. It’s dangerous when you don’t taste the alcohol; that’s how you get drunk quickly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.”

Your friends wave you off, too invested in the music to listen. You shake your head with a smile and make your way to the bar counter. You look away for a second and run into someone seconds later.

“Hey, Y/N!” You look at the person and see Bucky standing there. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You pause after hearing how that sounds. “Sorry, that sounds weird. I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” he laughs. “I’m with my roommates. They’re here to see the band. They wanted me to come out.”

“Same.”

“I was hoping to see you. I really liked talking to you the other day.”

“Same here.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Bucky gets you and himself a drink before escorting you to one of the back tables. Most everyone is up front listening to the band so the back is clear of crowds. It’s easier to hear him, too.

“So, I know I’ve said this but you… Okay, I’m not very good at this. My friend, Steve, says I need to get out more but I actually like staying in and being alone. I don’t normally do this but I really enjoyed talking to you. Can I have your number?”

Just like that, your entire world shatters. You like Bucky but now that he wants to take the next step, he’s becoming a real person instead. A real person who you might have to take home to your kids. A real person who will just leave you like everyone else. You don’t want to do this to Bucky but you scoff in annoyance.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, Bucky. Look, I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Wait, is it something I said? You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to. I just… You’re beautiful and funny. I had a great time with you at the grocery store.”

You don’t mean to be rude or snappy with Bucky but you’re sick and tired of men feigning interest in you only to leave you and your kids. You’re not going to put them through all that trouble if the man isn’t going to stay. If you don’t give men the light of day, then they can’t leave you.

“You want my number?”

“I do.”

“Which number do you want, Bucky?”

“Uh, well, how many numbers do you have?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, I have numbers coming out of my ears. For instance, ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t fall in disgust but he’s not jumping for joy either. Tears prick your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“You have a baby girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How about this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is. Eight is the age of my son. Two is how many times I’ve been married and divorced. Sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 480-555-0199. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I just gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it. You’re nice, Bucky, but I’ve been down this road too many times. I will not allow my children to meet a man I know won’t stay in my life. Really, it was nice talking to you but no man wants a woman with three children.”

You grab your drink and leave the table but stop when you hear your phone ringing. You take out your phone and notice a number you don’t recognize. Knowing your daughter is with someone else who’s not your mother, you answer it thinking Leslie’s kids are using their phones to call you.

“Hello?”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would leave you. I understand the walls you’ve put up. I understand why you don’t date or don’t trust men, especially around your kids. I understand that you had to put yourself back together multiple times. I’m not dismissing that, but I can promise you that I am not like other men. I don’t abandon people and I happen to love kids. If you give me a chance, I would love to show you that you’re not a piece of ass. You’re not a notch on someone’s belt. You’re a woman who I would love to get to know.”

You turn to face Bucky who has his phone to his ear. The tears are already coming down whether you want them to or not.

“All I ask for is a chance.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Maybe it’s you who needs to give him a chance. Then maybe, you’ll finally find the one person you’ve been looking for.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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lottiies · 2 months

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TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

Text

After Hours

DI!SingleDad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You really shouldn't fuck your student's dad. You shouldn't. No matter how hot you think he is. You shouldn't. Right?

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), choking, hair pulling, creampie, soft!dom leon, praising, Leon has a mouth on him, the s stands for slut, parent teacher dynamic, foul language

WC: 8.2k I am so sorry

A/N: guess who just watched death island and guess who wants to fuck di Leon. Yes, this whore. The things that man does to me. Man definitely gave me girl dad vibes in di so I wrote it lol enjoy the Leon filth

Note: this story was inspired by @konigbabe own dad!leon x teacher fic. Hers is definitely way better than mine and definitely recommend checking it out! (Sorry for not mentioning before it was extremely late last night🙃)

Universe Masterlist

You've been teaching second graders for a very long time, and you've never been more in awe and intrigued by a child at the same time. When you met this little girl you knew she would grow on you. But you didn't think she would be so complicated too.

"Mhm, and she said— Izzy?" You were standing in your designated area during recess duty, talking to the other second grade teacher when one of your students, Isabella, was dragged to your side along with an older boy by another teacher.

The boy had a scraped up arm, and Izzy was holding her hands together in front of herself and staring at the ground as the teacher held her by her shirt. You stared in confusion for a second before you looked at the teacher.

"Ms. Miller, what's going on? Why are you dragging Izzy and who is this boy?" You asked, head tilted with confusion.

"Is this Isabella Kennedy? She wouldn't answer when I asked her." The older lady asked, shooting the brunette girl a nasty look. You frowned, but nodded slowly, replying with a short yes. She continued. "She pushed one of my kids and he's bleeding. You need to take her to the Principal's office and call her parents right now."

Your eyes widened in shock and your mouth fell open, baffled. You blinked a couple times in disbelief as you looked at Izzy. This girl was a sweetheart, quiet, but kind, she would never hurt another student.

"Izzy, come baby, we're gonna go sit in my classroom while I call your daddy, mkay?" You shot Ms. Miller a glare that made her let go of Izzy, and you quietly extended your hand to the girl. She took it, quietly following you.

Maybe today was the day you would finally meet Isabella Kennedy's father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took five phone calls, three emails, and a good three hours before anyone came for Izzy. It was well past the end of the school day. You had been sitting outside the Principal's office with Izzy for about an hour when a man, tall, close to six feet tall, with a leather jacket and brown hair that fell over his eyes walked down the hall. He had the same intense blue eyes as Izzy. He had a pretty annoyed look on his face too.

Leon Kennedy.

"Izzy." He called out when he saw her, his low baritone filling the otherwise quiet hall. The little girl lifted her head, blue eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of her dad.

She instantly got up from her chair and ran to him. He picked her up without hesitation and a frown plastered on his face when she hid her face on his neck with guilt.

"I'm sorry daddy."

"Oh, what's wrong? Why are you sorry?" He asked, rubbing her back soothingly, but before she could bust out into tears, you stepped in.

"Hi. Hey, uhm. I'm Isabella's teacher. Are you Mr. Kennedy?" You felt stupid for asking, he made you feel even more so when he narrowed his eyes at you with this 'seriously?' look in his eyes.

"Yeah. What's going on? I saw you left me a million voicemails. Is Izzy alright?" He asked, understandably concerned, instinctively checking his daughter for any injuries or marks.

"Yes she's alright but uhm.. Something happened earlier and I think it'd be good if we spoke in private before you speak with the principal." You bit your lip, watching as his face scrunched up with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"What— y'know what, alright. Just make it quick please." He sighed, saying something to Izzy that you couldn't quite hear before he set her down on her feet.

"I'm gonna go talk to your daddy for a minute okay? You can go finish that drawing, yeah?" You said to the little girl with a smile. She rubbed her eye but nodded regardless.

You led Leon to your classroom. You sat on your desk as he sat on the chair you had left for him in case he did show up. He leaned back, arms folded over his chest and legs spread. That man hadn't even said a word yet and you were already sweating. He was full of self assurance and confidence, like he didn't need to say a word for his presence to be the center of attention. And it made you nervous.

"So uhm, I called you because Isabella got into some trouble today during recess." You started, leaning your elbows on your desk. His face never changed. He had the same stoic expression.

Seriously?

"Okay."

"She pushed a fourth grader on the playground, and the kid scraped up his arm." You finished, hoping that would get some kind of reaction. It did. But not the one you were expecting.

"Oh. Wow, okay." There was a tiny curve on the corner of his lips. You could swear it looked like a smile. "Is she in trouble or something?"

"Uhm, yes, of course she's in trouble. Our anti-bullying policy is very strict here Mr. Kennedy. She could get suspended for this."

He rolled his eyes. The motherfucker rolled his eyes.

"That's not bullying. The kid probably deserved it." He scoffed softly, leaning further back into the chair. He had his eyebrows furrowed, and he was staring you down, pale blue eyes making you want to crawl into your own skin. "Izzy isn't the type to just hurt someone. She's a good kid. Did you even ask why she did it?

"Well uhm.. Yes, she said the fourth grade boy was bothering her and her friend, he shoved her friend so Izzy, uh, shoved him back, much harder." You cleared your throat, knowing your answer wasn't any better. You didn't want Izzy to get in trouble, but you had to do your job.

"Are you serious?" He had this blank expression on his face, and when you nodded, he gave you a laugh that was this mixture between pride and irritation. "This is ridiculous. A nine year-old boy bullies my seven year-old daughter and her friend, but my daughter is the one that gets in trouble for standing up for herself?"

You stared at him, lips parted as you tried to come up with an answer. You ran your tongue over your dry lips, no answer actually coming out. He scoffed.

"Was that all then? This conversation could've been a phone call." He sat up, seemingly getting ready to stand up. You shook your head.

"No, Mr. Kennedy. There's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

"It's just Leon, please. I'm not that old." He chuckled, leaning back into the seat.

Your eyes fell to his chest, slightly exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt. Your words were lost for a second as you imagined what it would be like to see under that shirt, to feel— No. That's inappropriate. Focus.

"Uhm, I understand you must be busy with your job, Izzy talks about it all the time but I think she would benefit from more involvement from a parent in her academics and activities." You started, leaning forward on your arms.

"Meaning what? I'm involved plenty."

"I'm sorry but, I've had your daughter for a semester and a half, and this is the first time I've met you. We've had two parent-teachers conferences so far. I never saw you there. She performed at the winter concert, I don't recall seeing you there either." You explained with a small frown, remembering all the times you had to cheer her up because she was upset about her dad not being there for a school event. "All I'm saying is that if your job doesn't allow it, maybe Izzy's mom can—"

"No, not an option. It's just me." He cut you off quickly, sitting up quickly as his shoulders tensed.

You weren't a behavior analyst, but knew that tone. That defensiveness and resentment at the same time, you had seen it time and time again from single parents. It explained a lot.

"Then she really needs you. You're the only support she has. So be there for your daughter."

"I am. It's just that my job—"

"With all due respect, your job is not more important than your daughter. Listen, the spring concert is in two weeks. She's performing there with a few other girls. I just ask that you be there for her. Trust me it will do her good. And knowing her dad is there for her will stop her from acting out like this again."

Leon bit his lip in thought, you could see the gears turning in his head, the way he tapped his index finger on his bicep in thought, but he ultimately sighed.

"An elementary school concert, is that really necessary? Can't I just take you to dinner instead and we can call it even?" He said it so smoothly you didn't realize his flirtation at first. It took a second for your brain to register he was flirting with you and the tiny smirk on his face made heat rush to your face in an instant.

"Mr. Kennedy, that is not appropriate." You tried hiding your embarrassment behind a soft laugh, but the way you avoided his eyes said enough.

"I told you, it's Leon." He corrected you again, grin still on his face, "Alright fine, I'll see what I can do. Can I take Izzy home now?"

"Yes. I'll email you the RSVP." You finally met his eyes with a small smile of your own as you waved your hand, signaling that he could leave. He nodded, standing up, but before he left you added, "And please look at your emails this time."

He flashed you a small smile, "Sure Miss."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Aw Izzy, you look so pretty. Did your daddy help you get ready?" You asked the little girl, her hair neatly pulled back into a bun, glitter scattered on her hair and blue sparkly eyeshadow matched the shades of blue in her outfit. She looked like a princess.

"Nooo. Daddy doesn't know how to do makeup. Aunt Claire did." She said excitedly and smiled with glee.

Huh, that must be the woman that sometimes picked her up. For the longest time you thought it was her mom. But not after Leon had told you about her mom not being in the picture. Still, you thought maybe you'd get more out of her than her dad.

"Oh she did a really good job!" You smiled at her as you stood with her, waiting for her turn to perform. "Is your daddy coming?"

"Yes. He said he would." Good.

"And your mommy? Is she coming too?" You squinted an eye, knowing you probably shouldn't push your luck, but kids usually never lied, and you wanted to know for sure.

"Oh, I don't have a mommy. Just daddy and Aunt Claire. Oh and Uncle Chris. But he's not around much." She said it so blankly it reminded you of her dad.

It made your heart sink, to think her mom had abandoned her. Which you had the feeling was the case based on the defensive and almost resentful way Leon spoke about it when you met. But somehow it didn't seem to bother Izzy.

"Well I'm sure your daddy will love to see you perform tonight. It's almost your turn, go find the other girls, I'll be right here."

She gave you an eager nod and a smile as she ran to her friends, their names getting introduced by the principal a minute later. You stayed in a corner mostly out of sight, but enough where you could see the stage. At one point, you looked towards the far end of the gym, at the top of the stairs. You saw a familiar leather jacket, the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest as he watched the stage. You couldn't really see from your distance, but you had a feeling he was smiling. But you were definitely smiling when his eyes found yours.

"Oh my God you did so good! I can't believe you learned that in a few months!" You said to Izzy, her tiny hand in yours as you walked her through the gym to find Leon.

As you walked out to the hallway, you caught a couple moms whispering not so quietly about the unknown man in a leather jacket that was standing by himself and it almost made you laugh.

"Hey, is Isabella's dad here? I see she's still attached to your hip." Your friend, Emily walked your way, eyeing the little girl, then you. You raised an eyebrow at her, knowing she just wanted to see who was the mysterious hot single dad she kept hearing about.

"Mmmm, yeah he's here. He's—" You looked around for a bit, quickly spotting him by himself. You smiled to yourself when your eyes met. "Izzy, your daddy is over there, go. I'll be there in a sec."

She nodded and ran to her dad. She jumped as soon as she was in front of him and he lifted her in his arms in a heartbeat. You heard her giggles as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he sat her on his hip, hugging her.

"He's hot. Like really hot." Emily spoke, making you look at her. Your eyes widened and you snorted quietly. "What? He is. He totally gives biker vibes. I wonder if he has a motorcycle. You should ask him to take you on a ride sometime."

"Emily." You scolded her with a laugh.

"I'm serious! You should go out with him. Or I will."

"I'm leaving now, I don't not want to get written up for sexual harassment of a parent. Goodbye Ms. Robinson." You laughed, waving your hand at her dismissively as you walked towards Leon and Izzy. So you could say goodbye to Izzy. Or so you told yourself.

"Miss! Look what my daddy gave me." Izzy showed you a beautiful white carnation.

You smiled in awe, both at the flower but also at the sweet gesture. Leon definitely didn't seem the type to give gifts. Maybe you were wrong.

"Oh wow, that's such a pretty flower! It's almost as pretty as you Izzy. But you're prettier." You giggled with the little girl, who nuzzled further into Leon's chest in a fit of giggles. He thought you weren't looking, but you definitely caught the tiny smile on his face.

"But you're prettier, Miss! At school we call her Miss Pretty. Cause she's really pretty all the time, right daddy? You were saying that Miss looked really pretty the other day." Izzy lifted her head to look at her dad with her big blue eyes.

His own eyes grew a bit and a dust of pink covered his otherwise pale face.

"Isabella." Leon said her name sternly, but the girl just giggled even more. He rolled his eyes and looked at you, a tiny grin on his lips and that same air of confidence that never seemed to falter, even if he was embarrassed. "Okay, say bye to your friends so we can go home. And say bye to Miss Pretty."

Now it was your turn to be fluttered.

"Okay. Bye Miss, I'll see you on Monday!" Izzy hugged your waist as soon as Leon put her on her feet. You smiled, crouching down to embrace her properly.

"I'll see you on Monday Izzy." You smiled, watching as she took off to find her friends. You stood up slowly, eyes meeting with Leon's. "I'm glad you came. She was really happy."

"Mhmm, I'm glad I came too." His eyes lingered on you.

God, you were pretty. He took in the way your hair was done differently, maybe for the occasion. Your makeup was different too, nothing too glamorous, but some shimmer on your eyelids and a lipstick that matched. And your dress, it suited you perfectly. But he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't prefer to see it on his floor instead.

"And thank you for talking your way out of her suspension. She's a good kid, I wouldn't want something like that on her file."

"Of course. I adore Izzy, and I've seen first hand she's a sweet kid. Off the record, I didn't want her to get suspended for standing up for herself. You taught her well." You smiled, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your face.

"Yeah well, I try."

"But I hope this isn't a one time thing though. It'd be good for Izzy if you came around more often." You bit your lip softly, feeling his deep gaze burn into your skin. He nodded, leaning ever so slightly closer. Nothing any prying eyes would notice, but you definitely did.

"I'll be around, but in the meantime," He bit his lip, eyes darting around for a second before he leaned down to your ear for a split second, saying, "Dinner is still on the table."

"Mr—"

"I swear to God if you call me Mr. Kennedy one more time."

You leaned back, a smile threatening to pull around your lips. And you nodded, digging into your purse for a second before you pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it into his palm.

"I'll be seeing you around, Leon."

He watched you as you walked with a smile on your face. He furrowed his eyebrows curiously but it quickly turned into a grin when he saw what you had written on the post-it note.

Juat say when. I actually answer my phone. —Miss

"Fuck me." He sighed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and rubbed a hand over his freshly trimmed jaw before calling Izzy. "Izzy, c'mon."

"You, you evil child are in so much trouble," he chuckled, taking his daughter's hand in his, "You can't be telling daddy's secrets like that, bee. You're gonna get me in trouble."

"But she's really pretty! And nice. And she makes really good brownies. I like her a lot." She giggled, looking up at Leon with a smile that reminded him that not everything in this world was pain and misery. "You should take her on a date!"

"I asked if she wanted to, actually."

"Oh my God really? Did she say yes?"

Leon looked at his little girl with narrowed eyes and smiled, "Since when are you so nosy? Hmph."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't think Leon would be the chivalrous type to come pick you at your door for your date. But there he was, leaning on his Jeep Wrangler as he waited for you to come down. And when you did, fuck, it made him want to take you right then and there.

"Woah… You look.." He blew out a small breath and his lips curved up. You nodded, biting your lip softly.

"Thank you. You look good too."

"So uh, is Italian alright? I know a really good place downtown."

The food was great, amazing even, but this, oh this was better than any fancy restaurant. Leon pressed your back against the door, his own body pressing you further into it, preventing from moving. Not that you wanted to. He had one of your wrists pinned above your head as he kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth to savor the faint wine you had earlier. He used his other hand to hoist you up around his waist, a moan slipping past your throat when his belt brushed against your clothed clit.

You swore you never had sex on the first date. But for Leon you would be the biggest whore if that’s what he wanted.

“Mmm Leon,” You panted softly, he hummed as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. “Izzy. Is she—”

“Not here. She’s at my friend’s for the night.” He answered in between kisses.

“You have a friend that watches your kid while you get laid? Aren’t you lucky?”

“Can we not talk about my babysitting arraignments right now?" He muttered out in between kisses, his breath hot against your skin.

A soft giggle fell past your lips and you nodded, grabbing the back of his head to kiss his lips again. A satisfied hum rumbled in his throat as he moved his lips with yours, keeping one hand on your ass and the other found the back of your neck as he moved you off the door. He was walking, somewhere, you assumed his bedroom. He parted from your lips to half watch where he was going and you took that opportunity to drag your lips along his jaw. You could tell he hadn't shaved in a few days, but you liked the tingle it gave.

Leon let out a breathy hum at the feeling of your lips roaming freely along his skin. He bit his lips softly as he fumbled with the doorknob, he eventually got it open. He didn't bother closing it and his feet took him straight to his bed.

He grabbed the back of your head and pressed another hard kiss to your lips before your back hit his bed. Soft duvets pooled around you as he laid you down, pulling your bottom lip with him as he moved back.

"Fuck, I knew you'd look so pretty on my bed." He breathed out as he watched you, hair pooling around your head, and makeup already a mess.

You gave him a shy smile as you sat up on your elbows. His eyes stayed on you as he sunk his weight on one knee, a knee he placed right in between your thighs. And his eyes never left you as he slowly undid the buttons of his navy blue dress shirt. His leather jacket was long gone by the time you had stepped foot inside his apartment.

You watched him with big eyes as he shrugged off the piece of clothing, leaving his muscular chest of full display. And fuck, if he looked huge under layers of clothing, he looked massive now. Your eyes took him all in, an arrangement of scars covered his otherwise pale skin. Scars and all, he was still the most attractive man you had ever met.

"You look so pretty when you look at me like that." He chuckled softly, his fingers coming up under your chin to make you look up at him, clearly noticing the way you were staring at him, with those eyes and your lips parted.

"You think I'm pretty? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?" You responded without thinking, the words coming out with a breath.

A smile formed on his lips and he shook his head, watching with amusement as your shaky hands touched his belt. You ran your tongue over your lips as you unbuckled his belt with shaky hands. Leon watched you carefully, his breath picking up when your fingers itched closer to his cock as it strained against his boxer briefs. But when you sat up fully, about to move your knees he grabbed your hands, making you stop. Your eyes shot up to his face with alarm, afraid you had made him uncomfortable.

"Next time baby," He said with restraint. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel your mouth around him. He'd kill for that. But he could be selfish another time. "Lemme take care of you tonight, yeah?"

You breathed out shakily, the panic leaving you as soon as the words left his mouth, and a pool of arousal replaced your uneasiness. You nodded.

"Yeah, okay."

He gave you a smile that made you ache and he gestured to you to lie down.

"Lay down for me." He coaxed with a voice so smooth it almost made you whine. He eased a hand up your bare thighs as you did as he told you.

Your back touched his soft covers again as you took in a sharp breath. You closed your eyes in anticipation as you heard him move around for a second. You gasped when you felt him drag you to the end of the bed by your ankle. You lifted your head and fuck, you could've come right there and there at the sight of Leon, on his knees, with his head between your legs.

"Leon.." You whined almost desperately, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable.

A soft smirk tugged at his lips at the whine of his name and he lifted his head to look at you with feign innocence.

"What's that pretty girl?" He sneaked a hand under your dress, his thumb barely grazing your clit through your panties. You twitched, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.

"Please." A weak plea was all you could say.

"What? Want my mouth on you? Want me to finger you open? Make you come all over my tongue?" He spoke with arrogance, with that same arrogance he always fucking wore. And you hated just how much it turned you on.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, just please, touch me." You were so pathetic but you didn't care.

"Oh trust me baby, I'm gonna do so much more than just touch you. You think you can handle me?" He tugged down your panties with such ease and so casually you didn't even realize he did, you were more focused on his question.

"I… Yes I— Of course I can handle you."

Leon chuckled at how fast you responded to his question and he bit his bottom lip as he scrunched up your dress up to your hips with his free hand, his eyes lingering on your cunt for a second before he met your gaze again.

"Tap me twice if it's too much, yeah? A sweet elementary teacher like yourself might not be used to.. Well, me."

You scrunched up your face a bit at his comment, shooting him a glare that made him chuckle.

"I won't break Leon."

A malicious smirk fell on his lips, "That's the point."

He didn't give you time to reply with another witty remark when he decided he was done talking. He sunk his head between your thighs and his tongue dragged along your clit without a warning. You jolted with a shudder, a loud gasp leaving your lips when you felt his mouth on your already sensitive clit.

"Oh my—" Your mouth fell open, your eyes slightly fluttering as he circled his tongue over your clit. "Oooh fuck."

Your head fell back against the mattress as he continued to work you with his tongue. He drew circles around your clit before he moved down to your wet entrance then back up to your clit. Over and over until you were writhing on the bed.

"Shit— Leon—!" The sound that left your mouth was pathetic, a mixture between a cry and a whimper when he slipped two of his long fingers into you.

He groaned against you, lapping at your pussy as he slid his fingers in and out with ease. And you couldn't help the way you were grinding back against his face. It had been a long fucking time since a guy had even bothered to eat you out, let alone like this. He didn't mind it, but the way you kept sliding up the bed every time he curled up his fingers against that one spot was annoying him. With his free hand he grabbed your hip with a tight grip and slid your body back down, holding you against his face. And he held you there, with his fingers deep inside your pussy, his mouth lapping at your clit and both of your legs thrown over his shoulders. You had nowhere to go and he was more than pleased about that.

"Fuck fuck— Shit Leon please—" You eyes were rolled into the back of your head, head thrown back as you writhed against his face. "Please— I'm so close please, please don't stop."

Fuck, you sounded so pretty when you pleaded to him like that. He could feel his cock strain harder against his pants just at the sound. He hummed, closing his lips around your clit and suckled. You didn't mean to, but your hand fell to the back of his hair and you pulled. And my God you pulled hard.

Leon growled at the feeling of your fingers tangling and tugging at his hair. The vibrations made you whine and you did it again. But this time he pulled back enough to speak.

"Pull my hair one more time, I swear to God." He grunted the words. But he wasn't angry. God, he wasn't angry in the slightest. But he knew he only had so much self control left in his body.

You didn't reply, you simply loosened your grip on his honey brown strands, but you kept your hand on the back of his head and his lips found your clit again. And you did your best to not latch on to his hair again, but fuck it was so hard when his fingers hit so deep and his tongue felt so good. You were so fucking close, you couldn't help it.

"Mhmm yeah that's it, I know you wanna come. Yeah, you wanna come don't you sweet girl?" He grunted, spitting on your clit as he scissored you open, the palm of his hand rutting against your clit. "I know you do, c'mon, come for me."

When you felt his tongue on your clit again you couldn't help it. Your mouth fell wide open as your heels dug into his shoulders. Your eyes were squeezed shut as your mind went blank and you couldn't help yourself, your fingers dug so deep into his hair as you held his face against you he actually grunted in pain.

But he didn't stop, he lapped at your juices as you convulsed under him, the lewd sound of his palm against your wet cunt shooting straight to his cock.

He didn't stop sucking at your clit until you were twitching with aftershock and you were weakly pulling his head back by the ends of his hair. Only then his fingers left you and he was pulling back. He watched you through narrowed eyes as you panted, your hands now on your face as you tried to come back down to earth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he rose his feet.

He fumbled with his pants as he climbed on the bed and before you even realized it, he grabbed you, hands under your armpits to drag you up the bed. You stammered at the sudden manhandling.

"Leon—" He didn't even let you finish before he was flipping you on your stomach, his bare back pressing you down on the mattress.

"What did I say about pulling my hair, hm?" He breathed out into your ear, harshly tugging down his boxer briefs enough to pull out his cock.

"I— I'm sorry—" You gasped as he not to gently unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head.

He didn't let you sit up though. With a large hand in between your shoulders, he sat up enough to sit back on his knees, his cock in his hand as he pumped himself a few times.

"No you're not." He sighed out, eyes closing for a split second as he dragged his cock between your wet folds. He heard you whine against his pillows, but you made no effort to move from where he held you. "Move that pretty little ass of yours up here. Need you to stay down though."

With a soft whimper, you stuck your ass up in the air, meeting his hips. His eyes fell on your ass, lips slightly parted he slowly sank himself into you. He watched as his cock disappeared inside your tight walls until only a little bit of him was left. But he didn't want to push you too hard, you couldn't fit all of him.

Leon sat still for what felt like years, but in reality it was merely a minute or so. His eyes were closed as he dragged a hand up and down your back, easing you until he knew he could move. It took you some time to adjust to his size, your eyes were squeezed shut as you fists clenched his sheets. But it wasn't long before you were begging him to fuck you.

"Leon— Please. Need you to fuck me, please." You muttered into the sheets as you turned your head to the side so that your cheek was pressed into the mattress.

"Mhmmm, 'course you do." Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

He dragged his cock out slowly, slow enough for you to feel every inch of him, until you were nothing but pathetic noises. He was almost all the way out when he slammed in again, making your body slide up the mattress. He did the same again, and again, fucking your body into the mattress like no one you had ever been with before. This man was going to be the death of you. Your student's dad. There were so many things wrong with what you were doing, but fuck, you couldn't list a single one of those things that could ever top this.

You were brought back to this reality by the feeling of his lips dragging up your bare spine. You felt a cold shudder run through your whole body as he leaned over you, his bare back pressed against yours and his hips rutting against your ass, so much so you could feel the rough material of his pants brush against your ass and the sound of his belt rattling with each snap of his hips. But that only made it better. To think he was so eager to fuck you he couldn't be bothered to take his pants off. That idea alone made you see white.

With your mind on a different planet entirely, you didn't realize the grip he had on your hair. Until you felt him pull your head back by your hair. His fingers were tangled to the root as he pressed his lips to your ear.

"You like how that feels, hm?" You had a feeling his question was rhetorical, that you weren't supposed to enjoy the forcefulness of his actions, because he was clearly punishing you for what you did earlier. But you would be lying if you said it didn't make you even wetter. He definitely felt the way you clenched around him and he laughed. "Oh? So you do huh? Pretty Miss Teacher likes it when I'm rough with her?"

You were nodding against his grip, as best as you could anyway, a soft cry being a pretty good sign that you did, indeed liked it. You should be ashamed of how much you wanted this man to ruin you, to use you as he pleased. But the way he was buried deep inside your cunt felt way too good to feel any shame.

"Yes! Yes, please be rough with me." You managed to choke out. You heard the groan that rumbled in his chest at your words.

Leon was flipping you on your back and slamming back into you before you even had time to protest. You instantly wrapped your legs around his torso as he resumed his pace, only that this time, his hips snapped much harshly with each thrust he gave you. His lips found your neck as one of his hands rested on the column of your neck, he didn't squeeze or touch your throat, he simply held you down as he fucked you into the mattress.

His fingers twitched, the urge to wrap them around your throat making his cock throb, but he otherwise decided against it, not wanting to push you too hard on your first night together. So to avoid giving in to his urges he itched to move his hand beside your head instead. You felt his hand leave your neck and something deep within your core didn't want him to, so your hand flew to catch his wrist.

"Choke me." You blurted out, so heated that you didn't even think of how embarrassed you normally would be to ask such a thing.

Leon lifted his head enough to look at your face, his lips parted as he panted softly, strands of his hair falling over his eyes but he could see you clearly. He heard you loud and clear, too.

"Shit baby," He groaned out, lips crashing against yours in a messy kiss before he returned his hand to your neck, but this time, he actually wrapped his fingers around your throat. "You're gonna be the fucking death of me. Such a pretty thing, sweet to everyone, with those pretty dresses of yours and that beautiful smile of yours. And you're asking me to choke you. Fuck."

He squeezed ever so slightly, just enough to make you feel a bit dizzy, but in the best way possible. You were so close, you could feel the burning ache in the pit of your stomach, and with the way his cock hit your most sensitive spot with every thrust, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Ah— Shit— Leon—" Your sounds were choked out, barely audible, but he heard the way you were begging, the way you said his name, it drove him fucking insane. "I wanna—"

"Mhmm, I know baby. You wanna come all over my cock, hm? Yeah you do," He dug his teeth into his already red lip as he sneaked his free hand in between your bodies and began rubbing harsh circles around your clit, making your hips jerk. "Yeah that's it— Fuck, atta girl. Lemme feel you fall apart for me."

He didn't even have to tell you, you were seeing white the second his thumb touched your clit. You dug your nails into his skin, surely leaving a few marks to find in the morning. But he couldn't care less. He couldn't help but moan at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock. He held you down to the mattress as he drilled into you, his own release not too far now.

"Yeah— yeah that's it. Good girl. You're such a good girl." He dragged through pants, his fingers squeezing your throat tightly. "Fuck— Fuck I'm gonna— Shit."

He was about to pull himself out, so as to not finish inside you, but you held him tight, legs securely wrapped around his torso. He looked you through half lidded eyes as you nodded at him.

"Please." You couldn't say much, with his hand on your throat and all, but he understood what you meant and the idea of you letting him come inside you made him lose the little control he still had left.

"Oh fuck— fuck that's a good girl— Ah—" His head fell to your neck as he cradled your head with the hand not your neck and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fell still, holding you down on his cock as he came with a throaty moan. "Mhmmm. Just like that. Take it just like that."

His hand slowly released your throat, and you gasped softly as your head spun with adrenaline. Your eyes fluttered shut as you held him, arms lazily thrown over his shoulders as your fingers lightly threaded his hair. You felt his breath hot on your neck as he panted. Your own breathing was as hard and fast as his for a minute or so. But he didn't mind holding until you both calmed down. It was a while before you felt him move, probably when he got tired of holding his weight. He left a kiss on your jaw before he moved to lay on his back beside you.

Leon turned his head to look at you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, face glistening with sweat, makeup absolutely ruined and hair tousled and pooled around your head. And even like that you were still the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"I wasn't too rough on you, was I?" He asked quietly, knowing he sometimes could be a bot too much.

You turned your head to look at him, and you found those pale blue eyes staring at you with concern, you gave him a tired smile.

"Of course not. I… I liked it. I don't think anyone's ever made me come like that before." You admitted with a dry laugh. His eyebrows shot up a bit with surprise, but that surprise quickly turned into pride.

"Well, I do like to be the exception."

"Oh shut up." You playfully smacked his arm and he chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, but your expression fell a bit when you thought he probably would want you to go home. That's usually how that was, right? I mean he had a daughter, he probably didn't want his daughter's teacher— who he had just fucked senseless, to stay the night. Right? Probably not. You sighed softly as you moved your hair away from your face and sat up. You missed the confused look Leon gave you.

"You leaving or something?" He asked with furrowed eyebrows as he sat up, watching the way you were reaching over the edge of the bed to grab your dress from the floor. But you quickly sat back to look at him, also confused.

"I mean… I'm supposed to, right?"

Leon scrunched up his face with confusion and slightly tilted his head, "You're supposed to?"

"Well. Uh… Yeah. I mean, Izzy—" He cut you off right then and there.

"Hey no, it isn't like that. I don't… I don't do that." You frowned at him, confused by what he meant. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, getting the strands out of his face. "I wasn't going to fuck you then ask you to leave. I'm not like that. It's late, and I drove you. Izzy isn't coming home tonight. You can stay. If you want of course, if not I can drive you home, I just—"

Now it was your turn to cut him off. He gasped in surprise when you crashed your lips against his. His lips curved up into a smile as he held your face. He kissed you much softly now.

"I wouldn't mind staying." You finally said, smiling against his lips.

"I wouldn't mind either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't exactly sure when, but you had fallen asleep, with Leon's arms wrapped around you as he held you to his chest. But rays of sunlight were hitting your face now as they slipped through the open curtains he probably forgot to close the night prior. You scrunched up your nose, squinting your eyes as you pressed your face further into the pillow. But it was too late now, you were awake and there was no way to fall back asleep. As much as you would love to just cuddle up to Leon and sleep some more. Speaking of, as you peeled your eyes open you saw him, still sleeping peacefully next to you.

He laid on his stomach, the covers pooled around his waist as his face was buried deep into his pillow. His honey brown hair was tousled from sleep and from your doing the night prior, and loose strands hung over the side of his face. God, he looked absolutely gorgeous. You really should've felt guilty for sleeping with one of your classroom parents. But when you woke up to a sight like that? You regretted nothing.

You debated on staying in bed with him, at least until he woke up and decided to take you home, but you really needed a bathroom. So you carefully maneuvered your way out of his bed, dressed yourself in the first thing you found— his dress shirt from last night and tip toed out of his bedroom. You felt so weird walking around his house without his permission, but he hadn't exactly given you a tour last night. So you ventured until you found a bathroom. By the time you were done Leon still hadn't left his bedroom so you decided to find his kitchen for a glass of water at least. You looked around on your way to the kitchen. He wasn't much of a decorator. It was definitely the apartment of a single man. But as soon as you walked to the kitchen you saw countless drawings and pictures hanging from the fridge.

Your heart warmed as you walked to see the drawings up close. There were definitely Izzy's. You smiled to yourself at the photo you saw next to one of the drawings, one of Leon, a few years younger, holding a baby in a hospital blanket. All of the other photos you saw were similar. It was only Leon and Isabella in all of them. Not a single one of Izzy's mom.

Did she never want to be a part of her life? Was she truly never around?

"You tried to run away last night, and when I wake up you're gone, too? Was I that bad?" You jumped at the sound of Leon's voice in the kitchen.

You cursed loudly, holding a hand to your rapidly beating heart as you glared at him, making him laugh.

"Asshole. I wanted to use the bathroom, and you were still asleep." You shrugged your shoulders, eyeing him carefully. Still no shirt, but he was wearing a pair of plaid pajamas pants now. He had his phone in his hand and was scratching the back of his head, attempting to smooth down his bedhead.

"You look pretty with my shirt. Looks better on you actually." He hummed as he padded through the kitchen to stand in front of you.

He stood in front of you, watching you intently for a few seconds before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

You giggled against his lips, happily kissing him. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he rested his hands on your hips.

"Mmm, you hungry?" He asked, brushing his nose against yours and his lips were curled up into a grin. You nodded, biting your bottom lip. "Me too."

You gasped when he hoisted you up on the kitchen island. You gripped his shoulders as you watched him with wide eyes. But he said nothing as he nudged your legs open with his knee and stood in between them.

"What? I said I was hungry." He smirked as he captured your lips with his own one more time before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

Without taking his eyes off from you, he threw one of your ankles over his shoulder and pressed his lips to the inside of your knee. Slowly, his lips itched closer and closer to your already dripping core. You held your breath with anticipation as he nibbled on your inner thigh. His lips were so close to where you needed him the most. His head got lost between your thighs and your hand instinctively fell on the back of his hair. His breath fanned hot against your clit and—

You jumped, your ass nearly slipping right off the counter, but Leon steadied you with a quick sturdy hand on your thigh. He was also startled by the sound of his phone ringing next to you. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

You took a deep breath, inhaling sharply as you looked beside you at his phone screen.

"It says Claire."

Leon shot up to his feet in a split second when you said that and he was answering the call almost frantically.

"Hey. What's up? Everything alright?" He said into the phone, still standing between your parted legs. You frowned softly with concern, your hand resting on his chest as he listened to the woman on the line. "Shit, really?"

He said nothing for a few seconds, just humming and nodding to himself before he pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out an exasperated sigh.

"No, you're okay, thanks for calling, Claire. Just give her some cereal, play her a Disney movie or something while I get there." He finally spoke, finally looking at you. And his blue eyes looked apologetic. "Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen. Yeah. See you soon."

Leon placed his phone on the counter beside you and sighed. You looked up at him, eyes big with worry.

"It's Izzy. I left her at my friend’s and apparently she woke up fuzzy. She's been crying all morning asking for me, so, gotta go pick her up." He explained, the corner of his lip curving up into an apologetic smile. You exhaled softly, the anxiety leaving your chest.

You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I get it. Don't worry. I'll get dressed so you can pick her up. I'm sorry I kept you from picking her up last night."

"Oh, no sweetheart, don't say that. Last night was incredible. She just gets… Clingy I suppose." He sighed as he helped you down from the counter.

"You're her only parent. It's normal. I should know." You gave him a smile as you started to head to his bedroom to get your clothes, but he grabbed your wrist, tugging you to his chest before you could.

"Hey, I still owe you breakfast. Can I take you out again sometime?"

The smile on your face was so wide you probably wouldn't be able to hide it even if you tried.

"Yeah, I'll be around."

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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babygorewhore · 3 months

Text

I wanna make you mine

Spencer Reid x fem!Hotchner Reader

You move back home with your Dad, Aaron Hotchner after turbulent situations as a dancer at a local club. Before you can give a private dance, you see that the client is Spencer Reid. Who not only works for your dad, he also happens to be your college teacher.

W.C 3.1k

Warnings! Exotic dancer! Aesthetic and reader is Hotch’s daughter but skin color is never described in fic. Reader is diagnosed with BPD! Slight angst with her past! Age gap! Reader is 25 and Spencer is 35! Light fingering! Unprotected sex! Daddy kink! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx proofread once because I was sick as hell

The last thing you expected was to be unpacking your last suitcase in your childhood bedroom in your father’s house at nearly twenty six years old. You didn’t have much to bring, having to live on the run for several months years ago when you were a teenager.

You sigh and plop down on your small mattress, bare legs covered in glitter. Aaron Hotchner was your father. The head profiler of the BAU in the FBI and acclaimed in his successes but to you he was just…Dad. Jack was your little brother, someone you hadn’t seen for a few years. When you told him you were going to stay in the house with them, the little boy was ecstatic and crushed your torso in a hug with his kid arms.

“Settling in?” Your dad’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you gave him a tight smile. Hotch stood with his predisposed blank expression with his arms crossed.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m about to leave for the night.” He didn’t respond to that and you bristled. You knew your father wasn’t happy about the way you were able to pay for school but you were well over the age of being an adult. Your mother’s murder when you just turned eighteen left you with very little choices so you turned to dancing.

“You don’t need to do that. I can find you another job. Something part time. You could still pay for school.” Hotch offered but you shook your head, finally standing as you adjusted your jacket.

“Thanks but I’d rather handle it on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stepped around him, letting the silence hang in the air as you carried your purse. A change of clothes, heels and mace were secured.

You drove to the club and practiced the mask you’d built for years of your new lifestyle. The separation of your parents, Mom’s death and a series of abusive relationships that followed afterward left you broken. Angry and right now, you felt cold. You didn’t have any friends. How could? Who would understand you? Who would want to? You were full of hate and despair. You kept your job a secret when you went to school during the day. No one spoke to you and you didn’t speak to them.

You felt like a burn victim. Every touch hurt. You didn’t want to let anyone in. You couldn’t handle the hurt that would come along with it. It felt easier to be cold. To put on your favorite pair of heels, roll your body on the metal and turn off your brain. In the club, you could just…be you. Your job didn’t require a lot of words. Your playlist ramped through the speakers as you danced, a practiced seductive smile and a dark look in your eyes illuminating in the glow. Bills were thrown on the ground as you worked the floor, amping up the growing crowd and your regulars.

A pang flashed in your chest as you thought of Hotch's face when you left home but you pushed past it and continued. You had a private dance to give after your time on stage so you mentally prepared for that.

After a while, you sauntered off the stage and touched up your makeup. Time to make yourself as desirable as possible for this lap dance. You took a breath, plastered on a smile and opened the curtain for the hidden room before your eyes widened.

Spencer Reid was sitting on the velvet couch, legs spread and his pants obviously tightening. His lips parted in shock when he saw your nearly naked body and you stood there still as a statue. You saw this man every single day for hours. He worked with your father at the BAU and worst of all?

He was the instructor at college.

“Uh-” You began.

Spencer shot up and gave you the decency of averting his eyes from your breasts. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know you were a dancer here. This is extremely inappropriate. Here,” Spencer dug out a wad of cash out of his pocket, shoving it into your palm.

“Wait, I didn’t actually-” But he was storming out before you could finish the sentence.

After the awkward as fuck encounter with your teacher, the rest of the night went smoothly. You crashed into bed after counting your cash to sleep for an hour. Hotch was already gone but he did make another pot of coffee in his departure with a note. You push back your wet hair as you pour the liquid into a cup and read the paper.

“Have a good day- Love, Dad.”

You grit your teeth and try to bite back the anger percolating in your chest as you leave the house.

The university was large so you usually went unnoticed as you settled into your usual seat in the middle of the room. Another thought you didn’t allow yourself to entertain was…you thought about Spencer.

Alot.

Ever since you saw him the first day, you were almost obsessed. His long waves that hung by his ears, tall lean body with a hint of muscle and his converse he always wore. He was ten years older than you but younger than the other professors. He was awkward. Tended to ramble and sometimes he showed a sense of self doubt. But he was so fucking adorable. You almost felt like a girl again, doodling little hearts around his name in your notebook yet you never approached him. You never raised your hand.

Spencer came in with seconds to spare, checking his watch and he settled his bag behind the desk. Your pulse quickened when his eyes found you briefly and then he began to speak, “Class, we’re going to pick up from yesterday. I’m going to give a lecture-“ He went on with his lesson plan but you focused on his hands gripping the wood of the table as your lips found the tip of your pen.

You were a good student, smarter than people gave you credit for so you got away with only half paying attention as he talked. He was avoiding your stare and you felt a little sense of power.

When class was over, you took your time standing from your seat but you didn’t expect him to say, “Ms. Hotchner, do you mind staying for a few minutes? Unless you need to catch the next,”

“Of course, Mr. Reid. No problem.” You smiled and waltzed over. You popped your hip, tilting your head as he swallowed and waited for the rest of the students to leave.

When the classroom was empty, Spencer cleared his throat and his brown eyes flicked over your body. You wore form fitting clothes with an oversized jacket, your hair was dry now and you pursed your gloss lips.

“I want to apologize for last night. That was inappropriate. I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable but if you want to transfer out of this class, I will sign the papers.”

“Transfer? Why would I do that?” You raise a brow. “It’s not a big deal. I have to pay for school somehow.” Spencer flexed his jaw and nodded.

“There’s a professional courtesy here and I don’t want to break that.” You smirk at him.

“So it’s not because you work with my scary dad? You just don’t want to feel awkward since you saw me half naked.”

“Let’s just agree to not bring it up.” He interrupts and adjusts his shirt. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

You shrug. “That you went to strip club last night for a private dance? Your secrets are safe with me.” You wink.

“Stop doing that.” He says sharply and you laugh breathlessly as he narrows his eyes at you. Leaning down, Spencer speaks quieter. “Don’t flirt with me. It’s not right.”

“Who said I was flirting with you?” You contradicted the statement by casually exposing the length of your neck as you peered at him with darkened eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer turned to leave but halted when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

“Running away again?”

Spencer’s Adam's apple bobs as he looks at your hand. You allow it to fall away as he speeds out of the room with a growing fire in your veins. You only wanted him more now.

When you got home, you completed homework and set a timer for a thirty minute nap. You stretched your arms over your head and peeked out of the window. It was getting dark out. You’d be leaving to go to work in a little bit but you narrowed your eyes when you saw two cars in your driveway. One was your father’s and the other was Spencer’s.

A deranged giggle escaped you as you changed clothes. Putting on a tank top, shorts and you pulled your g strip higher over your hips.

You heard both your father and Spencer talking when you came downstairs. You see open folders on the dining table, the coffee pot and both men looking up at you.

“Hey,” You greet casually and Hotch simply nods at you.

“Are you going in tonight?”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His suit shirt is unbuttoned partially, hair messy from running his fingers through it and his lips part.

“Yeah I am. I just wanted to come down and say hi to my favorite teacher.” You refrain from biting your lip as you see Spencer breathe heavier and Hotch returns to scanning the paperwork.

“Jack is at a sleepover for the night since it’s the weekend. Reid and I are just going over Case details. I’m not going to try and convince you to stay home-“

“Then don’t.” You snap at him.

“But there is a killer out there and I’d rather you stay home.”

You scoff and lean against the wall. Arms crossed as Spencer focuses on the floor. Your dad’s expression is made of stone. “Dad, just say it. You’re embarrassed your daughter is a fucking dancer. You don’t need to beat around the bush.”

“I’m not embarrassed. You fit the victim profile and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Hotch responds with a hint of frustration.

“Oh? Like my step mom?” The words leave before you have a chance to think and you shake your head. “Dad. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yes. Just like your mother. You’re a vulnerable young woman. You’re coming from a stressful situation and you work late at night. That’s exactly what the unsub looks for.” Hotch flashes a glance at Spencer. “And if you are going to work, then Reid will follow you there.”

The younger man doesn’t argue with your father. You don’t either and you nod. “Sure thing. You can be my stand in daddy.” You could have sworn you saw fire flash in Spencer’s eyes but he gave your father a tight lipped smile.

“Guess I’m on a bodyguard shift.”

Hotch swept over the table and returned to looking at the paper. “Bodyguard isn’t the right word. Keep her in your sights.”

Spencer tried his best to remain invisible but you kept your eyes on him the whole time you danced on stage. You hustled harder than usual. Wearing the crowd's favorite set and you made sure to give him the best angle of your ass while you humped the floor.

You didn’t have any private rooms yet so you were going to focus on customer service as much as possible as the brown haired agent stood awkwardly in the corner when you had an idea.

You step off the stage and make your way towards him. Spencer tries to press himself into the wall as you get on your hands and knees. You crawl towards him as he looks down at you with flushed cheeks. People start whistling as you turn around, slowly standing and sitting down on his lap. You’re lost in the rock music as you grind down on his pelvis, feeling him grow hard.

“I know you want to touch me,” You tell him as you lean your head back against his shoulder. Spencer groans as you feel his arm shaking. “Go ahead. I won’t tell my dad.”

“You’re playing a game with me,” He says against your ear. “And you’re going to lose.”

Spencer lifts you up off his lap and you use the momentum to spin around. Setting your heeled shoe in between his legs. His gaze is filled with desire but he won’t break by this. Yet. You could tell.

“I never lose, Spencer.” You bite out his name as you remove your leg. You allow your hands to fall on your tits as you continue slowly dancing.

“And I don’t fuck around with desperate little girls trying to act out a fantasy.” His statement ignites your fire. You’re the desperate one?

You remove yourself from him and storm off. You hear him call your name as you go into the dressing room, slamming the door shut as you throw your clothes over your body. You weren’t sure if it was what he said or just the build up of everything but you wanted to rage out.

“Hey girl, are you okay?” One of your friends asked you as she got ready.

“I’m going home. They can deal with me being gone early one night.” You growl as you march out and you rip open the entrance.

You storm to your car, climb in and try to start it. But it won’t turn on. You turn the keys to no avail and you let out a scream. Pressing your forehead to the steering wheel, you huff when you feel a knock on the window.

Spencer opened the door and you glared at him.

“Car won’t start?”

“Um yeah no shit.” You bark and Spencer sighs.

“Come on.”

“What do you MEAN come on?” You ask him and he holds out his hands.

“I’m going to drive you home.”

You want to refuse and be petty but you were honestly too tired to fight about it. You slide into his passenger seat and turn away from him. Spencer gripped the driving wheel firmly as he drove you home. The ride was silent. As he shut off the engine, you quickly exited and entered your home.

He was on your heel, “Will you stop for one second?” You spin around but start to stumble in your heels and before you hit the ground, he catches you by the arms.

“Whoa; whoa it’s okay, I got you.” His voice was gentle and he steadied you to sit on the couch. “Let’s take these off,” Spencer crouched down and started undoing the straps around your ankles, his long fingers grazing your skin and you stared down at his brown curls. Without thinking you tousled them and he glanced up at you with a hazed expression.

“Your hair is soft.” You whisper and he gives you a tiny smile.

“Everyone says that,” He chuckles and pulls off your heels. Spencer’s brown irises trail over your legs and then flicker around the room. He puts his hands in his pockets.

“You know bottling everything up isn’t going to help you.” You bristle and start to scowl.

“Who says I’m doing that?” Spencer raises his eyebrows.

“It’s also my job to study human behavior.”

“Oh? So you’ve been psychoanalyzing me?” You challenge and he shrugs.

“You make it easy.”

You make a growling noise at the back of your throat and roll your eyes. “You sound like the shrink I saw after Mom died. That’s when she told me I have borderline personality disorder.”

Spencer nods in understanding. “That’s a hard one to live with. It makes sense after what you’ve been through. But you…don’t need to push away your dad. He’s just trying to be there for you.”

“I don’t need anyone.” You ground out.

“Everyone does. It doesn’t make you less because you have needs.” Spencer offers simply and you stand up.

“Spencer, you can’t just say things like that and then pretend I don’t exist.”

“You’re ten years younger than me. I work with your father. I’m your teacher. This wouldn’t be possible-“

“I’m a grown ass woman, Spencer. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean I am. But if you don’t want me,”

“You think that’s it? You think it’s because I don’t want you? You’re all I fucking think about. It takes everything I have not to excuse everyone out of the classroom and take you right over my desk.” He says with a husky voice and you run your tongue over your lips.

“Maybe you should stop being a pussy. And actually do it. Come on, Spencer. I know you probably have some pent up anger you need to take out…why don’t you show me exactly what you’re made of?”

That was all he needed. He crashed his mouth to yours in a kiss, you sucked his lower lip and gripped his collar as he backed you back onto the couch. Spencer mounted you, hauling your knees apart as he ripped away and stared at your soaked pair of panties.

“Creaming yourself over a little kiss? God damn princess,” He breathed and peeled them off. He tossed them over his shoulder, rubbing his digits over your swollen clit. “Such a pretty pussy.” He praised and worked you over.

He dipped his fingers inside you, curling them as you tightened around him and clawed his shoulders. “Spencer, don’t tease me. Fuck, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me.” You whine.

“Desperate for my dick already? Aww, that’s so cute. But I can’t say no to that pout of yours. Fuckin gorgeous.” He shoves down his pants and boxers, pumping his precum leaking dick a few times before slamming into you.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you aggressively, his thumb working your clit as he moves and buries his face into your neck. “You’re just a good girl, huh? Needed me to take care of you? You want me to fill you with my cum and make you daddy’s doll?”

You harmonize with his moans as you grow close, “Daddy I want you to breed me, don’t let anything spill out. Just stuff me,”

You feel his ropes of cum spill into your cunt and quickly follow suit. You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him in place as he rocks into you. Fucking you through as his balls slap against your ass.

“Don’t worry, princess. Gonna fuck you all night long. Since you wanted to toy with me during class. Now it’s my turn to toy with you.”

Spencer heaved you up, carrying you to your bedroom and shut the door. Thank god you fucking moved here, right?

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @littlexdeaths @oceanblvd111 @lilacheavenn @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @redhead1180

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #Spencer Reid smut #dr. spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you

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