#it’s like someone set my chest on fire

[untimelyambition]

i owe my entire life to whoever filmed erika’s last show. that video is my everything <3 i see stars continues to reduce me to tears with every watch

[s0fter-sin]

youth by daughter is 09 soap in mw3, bitter and defeated after losing ghost, talking to 22 soap who’s so hopeful and secretly in love with his lieutenant

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[spencereid-reads]

juno | s. reid

word count: 2.2k words // warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of sextoys, condoms, improper use of fbi handcuffs. this one gets suggestive and was supposed to have smut but i'm too scared to write it. there's some breeding fantasies in there i think. probably continuation issues, i started this last week when i first listened to sabrina's new album and wrote chunks of it on different days. not proofread!

kindashy!spencer x shy!reader

to put it quite simply, you felt like you'd hit the jackpot.

for once in your life, things seemed to be going in your favor. this was the closest to perfection, you were sure of it.

you'd recently moved into a great apartment, with a perfect view of the district from the balcony. your apartment had a balcony, not just an old fire escape you'd used as one on your previous buildings. you'd been offered a promotion at work, which you obviously accepted and enjoyed your days at work more and more with each passing day.

the best part though, you'd been on a few dates with a guy who was just perfect.

the foolish part of you, fueled by all the romance novels and rom-coms you liked to watch on sundays, was already picturing a whole life with him, and with someone like spencer reid, it was hard not to.

he was something straight out of a fantasy, tall, slightly awkward but sure of what he wants, attentive and never once making you feel insecure. and he was so, so gorgeous, with big brown eyes that made you swoon, curly hair that begged you to run your fingers through the soft strands.

not only was he absolutely gorgeous, but his personality was what really sealed the deal for you.

date after date he set the bar higher for himself, five dates were enough to accept being exclusive, wanting to try something serious.

after five dates where you talked about everything, where he listened and asked about your interests, your dislikes, your thoughts on movies, where he confided in you about his life and past experiences, the downside to being a child prodigy, five dates were enough to know that no matter how this ended, you’d never have anyone like spencer reid in your life again.

“i don’t want this night to end,” you admitted as he walked you to your apartment door. you’d just gotten back from dinner and a walk through the park, to celebrate two whole months since you became spencer reid’s girlfriend.

“me neither. but you need to sleep, otherwise you’ll be grumpy in the morning.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he made you wish you could have so much more time together than just two months of spencer reid being your boyfriend.

“i like my sleep. but i think i like you more,” you press your back against the door, inviting him in, to you.

“somehow i don’t want to test that theory,” he made you laugh, cradling your face in his hands as he leaned in and kissed you.

soft, full of want and longing, one of his hands cupped the back of your head, you tilting it back as your back arched against him. your hands wandered over his sides, down his chest, the slight tremble of his body against your hands made you feel powerful. the thought that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, was as affected by a brush of touch as you were.

“i- um, i should go. wouldn't want to keep you up,” spencer cleared his throat, pressing soft kisses to your cheek.

you knew it was basically impossible, but spencer was so dumb if he thought you'd be able to fall asleep right after this.

“okay,” you replied, hands fisting the soft material of his shirt before letting go, “text me when you get home?”

“of course. good night,” he pecked your lips once more, taking his time as he moved away from you.

“night, spence,” you whispered, your hand finding his for one last touch.

he pulled your joined hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you swore your heart was beating out of your chest.

that night you dreamt of his lips on yours, his hands exploring, adoring your body, you felt something other than butterflies in your stomach, something new and exciting, hotter.

a week later, your best friend sarah sat on your couch as you told her everything that had been going on between you and spencer. when you showed a few pictures you'd taken of him, and the two of you together, she actually high-fived you as you giggled, excitement filling your body.

“i don’t want to get my hopes up so much, so soon, but-” you bit your lip, heat flushing your cheeks as you recall the kiss you’d shared the last time you saw each other, on the other side of your door. he'd been called in to help on a case with the bau and would be arriving that night, “he makes me wanna fall in love. make him fall in love with me, i-” you shook your head, it was stupid to be this infatuated with someone so soon.

“well if he’s managed to get you this lovesick so soon, i say go for it. get your man, who cares that it’s only been two months?” she shrugged her shoulder, sitting next to you and wrapping an arm around you, “i’ve seen you through all your stages, and i’ve never seen you like this. you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, it seems like mr fbi makes you happy.”

“it’s dr.” you corrected, smiling as images of him filled your head, when he explained his extensive college degrees.

two days later, you finished doing your hair, waiting for spencer to arrive. since he’d been lecturing more often now, it’d been easier to schedule dates with him, and his eagerness to see you as soon as possible made your heart almost beat out of your chest.

you rushed to answer the knock on the door, the familiar pattern spencer always knocked against your front door caused an almost pavlovian response in you.

“hey,” you smiled, opening the door wider to let him in. “what’s that?” you asked, looking at a medium-sized pink box with a bow wrapped around it.

“it was on your doorstep,” he handed it to you, you frowned, grabbing it and read a yellow post-it note glued to the top.

‘to my beautiful friend and dr. fbi, be safe and have fun ;)!’

you immediately flushed, seeing sarah’s familiar handwriting. you shook your head with a small smile.

“everything okay?” spencer asked, taking a step toward you as he closed the door behind him. “do you know who sent it? if not i could probably-”

“yes, don’t worry, thank you. it’s from sarah, uh- my best friend i told you about?”

“oh, right, the wedding planner?” you nodded in answer. “what is it?” he asked, taking off his coat and hanging it next to your mess of handbags and coats, removing his shoes as well. making himself at home.

“i don’t know, uh- it’s- for the both of us,” you swore your cheeks could not get any hotter, as spencer stood next to you, a hand on your shoulder as he leaned in to read the small note.

“oh.” was all he said, his thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin. “should we- uh, see what’s inside?”

“um, yeah, i just… i don’t know what it could be, and i apologize if it’s something inappropriate, i-”

“it’s alright, let’s just see what it is,”

with your heart in your throat, you undid the bow and lifted the top.

“oh, my god.” your cheeks burned, your chest not too far behind, and you heard spencer breathing in sharply.

inside the pink box laid a ton of condoms, in different sizes, a small pink vibrator, something that was supposed to be a set of lingerie, but was so small and transparent that you were sure you’d be better off wearing nothing. and to top it all off, a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. another note rested below them.

‘i’m not sure if the fbi has something against improper use of official handcuffs. use these ones meanwhile.’

you were going to die. scratch that, you were going to kill sarah and then yourself.

your trembling hands shook the box in your grasp, your whole being was screaming at you to toss it away, to cover it back up, to hide in your bedroom. but you stood there, frozen, still aware of spencer’s hand on your shoulder.

“i’m- i- i’m so sorry, i-” you managed to snap out of your shock, tossing the box on the couch and covering your face with your hands.

“hey, it’s okay- it’s-” he cleared his throat, “it’s an interesting gift, uh-”

“it was inappropriate and i should’ve- i should’ve checked before and…” you kept your hands cradling your burning cheeks, looking up at spencer and feeling your eyes burning too.

“it’s alright. i’m not offended or anything, i promise, besides i don’t think she did it with bad intentions, um- it seems like, uh, quite the opposite,” he cleared his throat once more, one hand moving to scratch the back of his head, and you noticed a pink tint in his cheeks, he was just as nervous as you were. “they don’t, by the way.”

“sorry?”

“the- uh, the bureau.” he clarified, “they wouldn’t know if i uh- were to use the handcuffs for, um-”

“oh.” you breathed, “that’s uh- good to know, i guess. yeah.” you answered, your mind wandering to places it definitely shouldn’t have.

“hey.” he called, standing in front of you, grabbing your hands in one of his, the other one raising to hold your face. “i know we haven’t talked about… uh, sex- yet, but- we won’t do anything until you want to. and if you don’t want to use any of this stuff we won’t either. the condoms, yeah, of course-”

“i’m on the pill.” you blurted out, and immediately regretted it.

“okay, but still, i’m not opposed to wearing condoms, yeah?” he reassured you, “let’s talk about something else, okay? i can feel how warm your face is. there’s no rush, i promise.”

“yeah?” you asked, getting lost in the change of his eyes, worried and soft, hopeful. “thank you.”

“of course. you don’t have to thank me,” he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead, and just like that all the uneasiness inside you melted away. “you good?”

“i- yeah. sorry for- freaking out i- i just didn’t know how you’d react to this, and i don’t- i don’t want to ruin this.”

“you didn’t. god, no, honey.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “i’ve never felt this way before,” he admitted, “if anything i’m the one who should be worried about ruining this, with all my past and all the trauma.”

“spencer, i don’t care about that- i li- i like you just the way you are.”

“exactly, you don't judge me for my past, or make me feel self-conscious about it. and i like you just as you are too. sweet and shy, and all flustered for me.” he placed his hand on your stomach, “breathe, deep.” he instructed, “in, hold it, out.” you followed his lead, somehow unaware of how uneven your breathing was, though it didn’t surprise you. “and now i’m going to change the topic of conversation because i don’t want you to pass out on me, yeah?”

you laughed at that, shutting your eyes and shaking your head slightly, when you opened them back up, you were met with his soft, tender eyes looking at you intently.

“hey,” spencer said, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close. your arms, on instinct, found their place on his neck.

“hi.” you murmured sheepishly. “i didn’t even say hello to you properly.”

“that’s alright. let’s order some food and we can catch up, that sound good?” he asked, you nodded, a burst of confidence inside of you made you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek.

“i really like you.” you confessed, not knowing where this bravery came from. maybe it was just him. something about spencer as a whole just brought comfort and peace to you. if he was with you you’d be alright.

“i really like you too, sweet girl.” he grabbed on tighter to you, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. all the air left your lungs once more as your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair. your loud mind became foggy as you focused on the feeling of him on you. his lips, his body pressed against yours, his hands on you.

a soft, surprised moan left your throat as spencer bit your lower lip lighty, retreating.

“i’ll make the call, italian okay?”

he left you standing there, still reeling from the kiss, the ghost of his lips on yours still there, your tongue poked out to lick your lips, tasting him, tasting yourself.

god bless whatever genes, deities and universes that came together in order to create spencer reid.

and if one of him is perfect, could the world handle two? a mini reid, with his hair and eyes and brain, his politeness, as well as the best part of your genes?

it’s a wicked thought for such an early state in a relationship.

“i ordered the tiramisu also, i remember you really liked it the last time we were there, i hope that’s okay.”

“it’s perfect, thank you.” you walk to him, quieting your mind as you hug him, burying your face in his chest. “thank you.”

for wanting me, for making me feel special, for paying attention, for liking me, for not running away, for making me believe a future is possible.

it all goes unsaid, but you mean it, and you hope he doesn’t think you’re clingy, as you pour all your feelings into the hug.

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay y’all, we are jumping into this. pornstar!rafe makes a big decision. ⭐️ (thank you to my bae @oceandriveab for her request and being so patient! 💖 )

He had quite literally fucked you to sleep after storming off set all because he couldn’t get his dick up because he had you on his mind. He knew the decision he had to make and that was one he never thought he would ever do and that quit filming professionally. Even if he hadn’t opened up to you much at all, and he was terrified of confessing his feelings to someone he only had ever fucked, he couldn’t continue on with this career because his addiction was now you.

You should have known better than to answer the door because as you woke up the next morning with a sore body, an empty bed and no sign or explanation from Rafe. You should have expected this and him telling you he couldn’t work anymore because he couldn’t get you off his mind was a bunch of bullshit. He told you from the start he loved pussy too much to ever quit, and you should have stopped falling for him right there. You may been acting on high emotions, but you picked up your phone and began texting him.

Rafe’s phone had been on silent when he had met with his agent and manager. He flat out told them that he was done and they laughed, an amused look on both of their faces. The ‘pussy slayer’ was retiring at 30? There was no way. Everyone knew how much he loved pussy, I mean.. what else was he gonna do? Even if he hadn’t told you much about him, or knew much about you, he knew what he felt for you was enough for him to find a new purpose in life. He knew he said he needed to take baby steps because this was all new to him, but he was tired of the jealousy he constantly felt, the way he couldn’t get you off his fucking mind. He had to show you how he felt and then would let everything fall into place after, it could have been a reckless decision but he didn’t care.

‘I don’t expect a relationship with you, but when you come to my house and tell me that I’m yours just to dip off without any explanation is bullshit Rafe. I can’t do these games with you anymore. You wanna focus on work so bad. Fine. So will I.’

You had blocked him after you sent it, whether it was right or wrong. You didn’t want to, in fact it hurt you to think about Rafe not being in your life. What hurt worse though was how this man had ruined you to the point he never left your mind, that every time he shot a scene with someone else you were filled with nothing but jealousy, and that you couldn’t continue on knowing he would constantly feed you this shit so that he could get a nut in a few times a week. Your insecurities were becoming overshadowed by fear, because you had no idea what Rafe had just done.

You had a feeling you knew who it was by the heavy knocks on your door. You didn’t want to answer and you wanted to tell him to go away. Your own body betrayed you as you began walking over to the door to answer it. He better have a damn good reason on why he was here after his little Houdini act he pulled.

“You wanna block me now?” Rafe asked, stepping through the door without another thought.

You shrugged, arms crossed over your chest as you challenged him. “Why does it matter Rafe? I should have never got my feelings involved with someone who only cares about fucking on camera and getting money from it.” You told him, avoiding his gaze. Maybe it was your own fault because he didn’t know exactly how you felt, but he certainly didn’t make it easy for you. When he whispered sweet shit in your ear it made you feel like you could tell him that you were falling for him. It would then reel back to you being afraid of rejection because he would disappear, or talk about how he loved his career too much to ever quit.

“Do you even know what I was doing? I was firing my agent and my manager because I told them I was done fucking doing porn.” He said, causing your eyes to meet his.

You didn’t believe him. There was no way the man who was obsessed with sex and couldn’t even give you a real reason on why he became a pornstar in the first place had really quit. You laughed, did he really think you were that dumb? “You are lying. You’ve hit an all time low if you think that you can tell me something like that just to fuck me again.” You said with a scoff.

Rafe did a lot of punk shit to try and hide his feelings from you, but this wasn’t something he would joke about. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m lying? I fuckin quit because I love you!” He said, blurting it out before he stopped himself. It was like once he said it, he couldn’t stop the rest from flowing as he continued on. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me! This career is the only thing I have had that has made me feel worth something because I fucked everything else up in my life. This is what made me feel invincible and that I could be somebody. I don’t have anyone else because everyone pushed me away due to my choices. Then I meet you and I don’t even fucking know you, but I feel this insane connection that absolutely terrifies me. It scares me the way I feel about you, and that I really should be taking baby steps. I.. I just can’t though. I don’t want to fuck this up like I did everything else, but… I am fucking in love with you and fucking random girls on camera just to get money isn’t worth losing you over.” He told you.

This was the first time Rafe had ever truly been honest with you and you could read it all over his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat as he stepped closer, taking you by the hands as he pulled you closer. “Let me show you.” He whispered in the softest voice you had ever heard him use. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but there was no way you were turning him away.

No matter how much you loved the brutal sex the two of you shared and we’re sure there was more of that to come, this was an entirely new feeling you both were experiencing. He was being gentle with you for the first time, pouring every ounce of confusing emotions and feelings he had into you. He had you in a deep missionary position, his toned hips grinding into yours as he buried his head in your neck. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He whispered in a breathy groan.

His cock somehow felt 10 times bigger when he went slow and it was throwing you off at how good this fucking felt. Tears streamed down your face much like the first time he had ever fucked you, but for an entirely different reason. You overwhelmed by love, clinging onto him life a lifeline as you were afraid to let him go. He had ruined you for any other man and right now you were perfectly fine with that. “Rafe… you feel so fucking good..” You whimpered, your eyes rolling back at a little as his tip kept brushing over your g-spot.

Rafe groaned into your smooth skin, his lips traveling across your collarbone and across your jaw line until he met your eyes. He knew he must have really been in love with you because he had never made love and didn’t know he was capable of such a thing. He knew his nasty side was inevitable but he really was determined to show you that he was serious about this.

“Yeah baby, say my fuckin name. That’s yours to say. All yours… my sweet angel.” His words firm but genuine as his lips ghosted over yours. The way you made him feel was better than any drug or any career, and he knew no matter how scary this was for him, you were his girl without a doubt.

The tears flowed even more as he said that, your eyes falling into his ocean ones as his cock explored every inch of you. Your lower tummy fluttered and head spun as you felt an insane orgasm approaching. “Rafe… you’re gonna make me cum. Please don’t stop.. please.” You nearly begged him, manicured nails digging into the skin of his back.

Rafe had always prided himself for being able to go many rounds before cumming. He was so overwhelmed with love, that he knew he was wasn’t going to last long. “I’m not baby, I fuckin got you. Yeah? Cum all over my cock.” He whispered against your lips before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You couldn’t help but sob at his words, trying your best to focus on the kiss as your orgasm started to take over. You screamed his name, not caring who heard, as this moment was way too important. You shuddered against him, wrapping your legs around his waist to trap him in as his thrusts started to get sloppy. He didn’t know what you had done to him, but he found himself going back to whisper in your ear as he started slowly coming undone. “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up baby, this is all for you..” He breathed out, voice rugged as his nuts tightened and eyes rolled back at your cunt still squeezing him in.

Rafe’s groans were sweet music to your ears as his seed warmed your insides, this time followed by a gentle raspy voice whispering against your skin. “I love you..” He told you, the butterflies hitting your belly and your face breaking out into a beautiful smile.

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Rafe hadn’t said that to someone or heard it back since before he had lost his family. This was the first girl he had ever felt this way about and while the two of you may have been jumping into something that was unclear and had a lot of questions that needed to be answered, he knew this was all worth it.

[pucksandpower]

Burn, Baby! Burn!

Lando Norris x firefighter!Reader

Summary: Lando almost burns down his house (twice) and meets the throughly exasperated love of his life in the process

The shrill screech of the alarm pierces through the calm of the fire station. You jolt upright in your chair, coffee spilling across the table. Another firefighter bursts into the room.

“We’ve got a call! Some bloke has managed to set his kitchen on fire boiling pasta!”

You shake your head in disbelief as you follow your colleague out to the truck. Who in their right mind manages to burn water?

The sirens wail as you weave expertly through the London streets. You’ve lived here your whole life and know every nook and cranny. As you near the address, plumes of smoke curl up in the distance. Sure enough, you pull up to a posh townhouse billowing with black smoke.

You hurry to unravel the hose, pulling on your heavy fire gear with practiced ease. As you blast water at the licking flames, they hiss and retreat. Within minutes, the fire is out.

Your captain does a sweep of the place to check for any remaining embers. You start to inspect the damage. The kitchen is completely demolished — cabinets charred and counters blackened. And there, in the middle, stands a lanky man with a mop of brown hair. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in the ruin.

You stride over. “What in blazes happened here?”

“I, uh, was just trying to make some pasta,” he stammers.

You spot a scorched pot in the sink. “Pasta? All you need for that is water, salt, and noodles. How did you manage to incinerate the whole bloody kitchen?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “I filled the pot with water, turned on the stove, went to get my phone and next thing I knew, the place was up in flames!”

You rub your temples, frustration simmering. This overgrown child clearly can’t be trusted alone.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Lando. Lando Norris.”

Lando Norris … why does that sound familiar? You rack your brain trying to place it.

“Well Lando, unless you fancy burning down the rest of London, I suggest you leave the cooking to the takeaway. Or hire a personal chef or something, sure looks like you can afford it.”

Lando chuckles at that. There’s a twinkle in his eye that irks you.

“Will do, firefighter ...”

“Y/N,” you supply.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful firefighter,” he says with a wink.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The last thing you need right now is an incompetent flirt.

Your radio crackles to life. “Y/L/N, need you to hang back with the resident until a building inspector can come assess the safety.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before responding. “Copy that.”

You turn back to Lando. “Looks like you’re stuck with me till the inspector shows up.”

“Well I certainly won’t complain about that,” Lando says with a dimpled grin.

You plop down on his couch, which by some miracle remains unscathed. Lando sits down next to you, angling his body in your direction.

“So, do you rescue fiery damsels in distress often?”

You snort. “Wouldn’t exactly call you a damsel. But putting out idiots’ fires? More often than you’d think.”

Lando clutches his chest in faux offense. “Idiot? I’m wounded!”

Despite yourself, you feel your lips quirking upwards. There’s something endearing about him, even if he is concerningly incompetent.

“Gotta admit, this is a new one,” you gesture around. “Never been called for someone catching water on fire before.”

“Ah well, I like to keep things interesting,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to respond when your radio crackles again. “The inspector’s been held up across town. Gonna be another 30 minutes.”

You lean your head back and groan. Lando perks up beside you.

“Well, lucky me! More time with the lovely firefighter.”

You toss a decorative pillow at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Lando just laughs, dodging the pillow with ease. “So tell me, Y/N, what made you become a firefighter?”

You debate shutting him down, but something about the open curiosity on his face makes you open up.

“My dad was a firefighter,” you explain. “Some of my earliest memories are of playing at the fire station with the other firefighters’ kids while our dads were on calls. I was maybe 5 or 6 when my dad let me slide down the fire pole for the first time.”

You smile at the memory. “I knew then that I wanted to be just like my dad. I thought firefighters were the coolest people in the world.”

Lando is watching you intently as you speak.

“What about you?” You ask. “What is it you do, besides wreak havoc in the kitchen?”

Lando smirks. “I’m a Formula 1 driver.”

Your eyes widen — no wonder his name is so familiar.

Lando looks pleased at your recognition. “So you’ve heard of me then?”

You nod. “Guess that explains how you can afford a posh place like this. Though I’d think a racing driver would have a bit more common sense in the kitchen.”

Lando shrugs sheepishly. “Never really had to fend for myself until now. I’m a bit hopeless at all things domestic.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “Been living off takeout, have you?”

“You know it,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to retort when the building inspector arrives. You greet him as Lando shows him around the thoroughly singed kitchen. After an extensive examination, the inspector deems the place safe, reminding Lando to get repairs done immediately.

With that settled, you make your way outside, Lando following at your heels.

“Don’t suppose I could get your number?” Lando asks as you reach the fire truck. “You know, in case I have any other domestic mishaps that require rescuing.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “How about I just pray we don’t meet again? Since that would likely mean you almost burned your place down … again.”

Lando clutches his chest in mock offence. “You wound me! And here I thought we were really hitting it off!”

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You pause, considering him for a moment. “But seriously … try not to burn the place down again, yeah? I’d rather not have to peel you off the floor next time.”

Lando grins. “I’ll do my best to keep the place flame-free. Though I can’t promise I won’t still need rescuing from time to time.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take care of yourself, Lando Norris.”

As you hop into the fire truck and speed away, sirens blaring, you catch Lando waving out of the corner of your eye. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

What an absolute disaster of a man.

***

It’s been nearly two weeks since the incident at Lando’s place. You’ve replayed that day in your mind more times than you’d care to admit. There was just something about that hapless yet charming Lando Norris.

Speak of the devil — the fire alarm at the station suddenly blares to life.

“Never a dull day, eh?” Your captain jokes.

You hustle to gear up, a sense of deja vu washing over you. As you near the now familiar posh townhouse, plumes of smoke once again curl into the sky. Your disbelief grows when you see a very sheepish looking Lando standing outside.

He grimaces as your truck pulls up. “Before you ask, yes, it was me again.”

You leap out of the truck, pulling the hose as your team gets to work quelling the flames.

“What the hell happened this time?” You shout over the roar of water.

“I, uh, may have tried to microwave some leftovers,” Lando says, rubbing the back of his neck.

It only takes a few minutes to extinguish the fire and assess the damage. Thankfully, it seems contained to mostly the microwave this time. Lando leads you inside, where smoke still lingers in the air. Your eyes immediately zone in on the microwave, or rather, what’s left of it. The interior is completely blackened and melted.

You whirl on Lando. “Please tell me you didn’t put something metal in there.”

Lando winces. “Right, so, funny story. I may have left a fork in the takeaway box.”

You drag a hand down your face in exasperation. “Lando, are you actually incapable of functioning like a normal adult?”

He has the decency to look ashamed. “I know, I’m a disaster, truly. But in my defense, the microwave came with the place already. I didn’t even think to check for a manual or proper usage instructions.”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure not putting metal in the microwave is common sense.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. “Suppose I don’t have much of that.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling a bit bad for berating him. He really is just hopeless, not malicious.

“Look, maybe it’s best you just avoid the kitchen altogether,” you suggest gently. “At least until you get some proper instruction.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “You’re absolutely right. In fact, why don’t I just take you out for dinner? Be a lot safer than me bumbling about the kitchen.”

You cross your arms, biting back a smile. “Are you asking me out while I’m on duty?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No no, of course not! I would never compromise your professionalism.”

You can’t help but grin. “I’m just teasing you.”

Lando looks relieved. “Right, sorry. But truly, I’d love to take you to dinner, if you’re open to it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I could certainly use the company of someone responsible in the kitchen.”

You consider him for a moment. There are about a million reasons you shouldn’t agree to this. But despite the situation, you find yourself charmed by Lando.

“Tell you what, why don’t you swing by the station once my shift is over in ...” You check your watch. “Four hours. You can ask me again then.”

Lando’s face lights up. “It’s a date! Well, hopefully, if you say yes.”

You chuckle and turn to leave, but Lando calls out your name. You glance back and he smiles warmly.

“Thank you again for rescuing me … in more ways than one.”

Four hours later, you’re wiping down the fire truck when an expensive sports car pulls up outside the station. Lando hops out, beaming when he spots you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he calls out cheekily.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t you know this is a strictly no-playboys zone?”

Lando clutches his heart. “You wound me, Y/N! I’m much more than just extraordinarily good looks.”

“What good looks?” You challenge.

Lando strolls over and holds open the passenger door. “Have dinner with me and see for yourself.”

You pretend to consider it, then shrug. “Eh, why not. Beats more takeout on my couch.”

You hop into Lando’s flashy car and he zooms off towards the restaurant. Lando insists on opening every door for you and pulling out your chair. You poke fun at his over-the-top chivalry, but find it endearing nonetheless.

Over dinner, you learn there’s much more to Lando than his hapless antics. He’s unexpectedly clever, with a sharp wit to match. He’s passionate about racing, his eyes lighting up as he tells you about life on the circuit. And despite his lavish lifestyle, he’s remained remarkably down-to-earth.

Conversation flows easily between you two. You’re amazed at how you manage to lose track of time, the restaurant emptying out around you.

When Lando finally drives you home, you linger in the parking lot, neither of you wanting the night to end.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

Lando smiles. “Me too. Think it’s safe to say there were definitely some sparks between us.”

You groan at the terrible fire pun, shoving Lando playfully. His eyes gleam with mirth.

“In all seriousness, I’d love to see you again,” Lando says. “If you’re willing to take another chance on this walking fire hazard.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well, seeing as I’m trained to deal with hazards ...”

Lando perks up hopefully. You grin and lean over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I would love to see you again. And until then … just please stay away from anything flammable.”

***

A few months have passed since your unusual first encounters with Lando. To your surprise and delight, you’ve settled into an easy relationship that feels almost like second nature. Lando has been actively planning creative dates, seemingly determined to take you on adventures across London.

It’s been a whirlwind of posh restaurants, West End shows, helicopter rides, and more. Lando delights in lavishing you with exclusive experiences. While you appreciate the gestures, your favorite nights are spent cuddled on the couch playing video games.

You’ve helped Lando gain basic competency in the kitchen. He can now make scrambled eggs and pasta unsupervised. Progress.

In turn, Lando has taken an interest in your life as a firefighter, asking for crazy stories and even visiting you at the station with treats for those on shift. He greets you after work with hearty meals — takeaway warmed up in the oven without any explosions — a welcome respite from having to worry that you would come home to find his house burnt to a crisp.

You’re touched by how you’ve each become such a fixture in the other’s unusual life so quickly.

One morning, the two of you are lounging on Lando’s couch during a rare shared day off when he suddenly perks up.

“The British Grand Prix is in a few months! I know it might be tough for you to get the weekend off but I would love it if you could come,” Lando suggests excitedly.

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? I would love to see your world up close.”

Lando grins and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s a date then! Fair warning though, the garage can get a bit chaotic. But I can’t wait to show you off to my team.”

You laugh. “Well in my line of work, chaotic is the norm. I think I can handle it.”

On race day, Lando picks you up in a sleek McLaren emblazoned with his number. You take in the organized chaos of the paddock, amazed by the scale of it all.

Lando guides you through the sea of team members prepping for the big day. He greets his mechanics warmly, introducing you with a hand on the small of your back.

“Lads, meet my girl Y/N,” Lando announces proudly.

The mechanics appraise you curiously. One whistles under his breath. “Nice catch, Lando. She’s clearly out of your league.”

You laugh as Lando flips him off good-naturedly.

Another mechanic, Dan, gestures to your athletic frame. “So what is it you do, Y/N? Personal trainer? Athlete? Fitness influencer?”

You smile wryly. “I’m a firefighter, actually.”

Dan gapes in disbelief. “A firefighter? No way! But you’re so ...” He vaguely gestures at you.

You quirk an eyebrow. “So what? Girls can’t be firefighters?”

Dan holds up his hands quickly. “No no, course not! Just didn’t expect it, is all.”

Lando grins and squeezes your shoulder. “She’s saved my arse more times than I can count.”

You laugh. “He’s not wrong. Man’s a walking fire hazard.”

Lando’s team ribs him fondly about his cooking mishaps. But you can tell they’re impressed, regarding you with newfound admiration.

“Go on then, show us what you can do!” Dan cajoles.

You grin mischievously. “If you insist.”

Before Dan can react, you swoop down and lift him effortlessly into a fireman’s carry. The other mechanics whoop and holler as Dan flails comically over your shoulder.

After a few seconds, you gently set a very flustered Dan back down.

Lando lets out a low whistle. “Have I mentioned how hot it is when you go all firefighter on me?”

You smirk. “Never gets old seeing you boys underestimate me.”

Dan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, fair play. Reckon I earned that.”

You laugh good-naturedly and pat Dan on the back, assuring him no harm done. As you all chat, you notice Lando’s gaze lingering on you admiringly.

As race time nears, Lando has to start prepping with his team. But he keeps glancing over at you with a newfound awe. Your little display of strength clearly left an impression.

Soon it’s time for him to get in the car. You wish Lando luck with a quick kiss, giggling at the mechanics’ dramatic groans.

Once the race gets underway, you stand behind the monitors with Lando’s performance coach, cheering him on with every overtake. You join the crew in jumping to your feet when Lando crosses the chequered flag for an exhilarating podium finish. The garage explodes into celebration, and Lando sweeps you up into a spinning hug when he arrives.

“My good luck charm,” he proclaims, keeping you close as champagne sprays wildly.

Later at an afterparty for the drivers and teams, you sip cocktails under strings of lights. Lando proudly spins you around the dancefloor, making sure everyone can see you on his arm.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Lando murmurs into your hair.

You grin. “Might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well I’m saying it again. You’re incredible, Y/N. Today was so much better getting to share it with you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in Lando’s eyes. You cup his face gently.

“Couldn’t imagine a better first Grand Prix. Thank you for inviting me into this part of your world.”

Lando smiles softly. “You’re the best part of my world now.”

Over the following weeks, you start to notice Lando looking at you with a new hunger in his eyes. The easy affection between you has shifted into something more wanton and primal.

One night, as you’re cooking a simple pasta dish together, Lando comes up behind you, hands encircling your waist. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck as his grip tightens possessively.

You lean back into him with a pleased hum. “Well hello there.”

“Mmm, ever since I saw you lift that mechanic, I just keep thinking about all the ways you could put that sexy strength to use,” Lando murmurs against your skin.

You grin and turn in his arms. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” You purr teasingly.

Lando crashes his lips to yours, backing you against the counter hungrily. You just barely remember to turn off the burner before completely losing yourself in the feel of him around you — one burnt pot of boiling water is more than enough for your relationship, thank you very much.

Later, lying spent and sated in Lando’s bed, he nuzzles against you. “Have to say, your skills in the bedroom rival your skills as a firefighter,” he jokes.

You swat his chest playfully. “Careful or I may have to break out some new moves on you.”

Lando’s eyes gleam. “Promise?”

You grin and roll on top of him, ready to stoke the flames between you once more. Though your relationship started unconventionally, it seems things with Lando will never stop burning hot.

[ervotica]

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

-

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

[luveline]

could I please request a remus x reader that isn’t used to affection and cries at being called a pet name <3

—Remus calls you lovely, so you cry in his back garden. fem

You hold your hands out to the fire pit, relieved when heat kisses your palms and warms your arms to the elbow. Summer nights are supposed to be warm. Not in Wales. 

The decking under you bends and groans as multiple pairs of feet cross it. Someone steps off by your legs and moves further into the garden. Solar lights warm the space and a battery powered lantern lights the patio table where Sirius hosts a championship of Speed. 

A pair of shoes stop by your legs. They step down and a body sits next to you tightly, thigh to thigh, no want for space. “Hey,” Remus says. “Are you cold?” 

“Not really.” 

“Did you bring a jumper?” 

“I’m not cold,” you laugh. “Of course I did, though, it’s upstairs.” 

Staying with Remus and his friends has been fun so far. The idea of spending a few weeks of your summer between your second and last year of University at Remus’ house had felt daunting when they suggested it, but you’ve had nothing but fun so far. It’s nice to have friends. Nicer to have patient and gentle ones.

“You can have my jacket? Wear it over your shoulders like a cape.” 

“No, thank you. Really.” 

Remus takes your arm. Gives it a quick rub with his thumb until his hand moves down to yours. He feels your fingers, his palm soft, before he returns to his personal space. “You don’t feel too cold. I’ll ask James to put another log on in a bit.” 

“All the food is keeping me warm.” 

He grins. Brown eyes, brown hair, lashes of firelight on his cheek. “Are you having a good time?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“Yeah? Will you tell me if you’re not? I know it’s weird staying somewhere else. Even if it’s just that the bathroom makes you miserable or you need extra socks.” 

“It’s like I’m on holiday with all my best friends,” you say lightly. 

“You are on holiday with your best friends. I’m not, ‘cos it’s my house, but this is the definition of a holiday.” 

“Thank you, for inviting me.” 

Remus puts his arm around your shoulder, and he kisses your temple with a gentle smile. “I wanted you here, lovely. We all want you here.” 

His arm falls away. It’s just amicable affection, you know that, but it’s more than anyone’s given you in a long time. You’re surprised he’d want to; you must feel a deep, deep tenderness for someone to call them lovely like it’s their only name, and to kiss their forehead with a smile already in place. 

You pull the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth. It’s precious, to be wanted. To have someone as special as Remus show you what you mean to him plainly. You’ve had a great day filled with nice food and good friends, and now you’re warming your knees by the flickering fire pit in the Welsh countryside, stars emerging above you, the moon a pinky nail by the mountains. 

You tip your face into your hands. 

Remus brings a hand to your back and draws a shape without comment, but his hand flattens, and he feels it loud and clear when you sniffle. “Dove?” he asks softly. 

You raise your head quickly, sniffling again as you wipe hot tears off of the hills of your cheeks. “Sorry.” 

“Did I upset you?” he asks, sitting up straight. “I’m so sorry, what did I say?” 

“No, no, it’s nice. It’s nice, you’re always so nice to me.” 

“You’re upset because I’m nice?” 

“I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” 

“Not used to it,” he says, frowning. His brows set. He’s nearly stony.

“You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

You nod, shivering as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, no room left between you. His cheek smushes into the side of your brow, a heat like the fire warming you, the two of you listening to the sound of wood embers popping. 

He makes a sound somewhere in his chest and pulls you closer again. Impossibly, he shifts, and his second arm comes around to turn his side hug into a proper one, as though he’s changed his mind about it just a few seconds in. You turn into him without apprehension. 

“You’re not used to it. Do you like it?” he murmurs. 

You press your face to his jaw and neck. Your arms act of their own accord, tightening behind his back. 

“You should be used to it, someone like you. You should be so used to it that it bounces straight back off you again.” He rubs your shoulder. His fingers work into a tight muscle gently. “You lied about being cold, I can feel it now. Your back is freezing.” 

You raise up off of the decking to hug him harder. He’s all for it. 

“We’ll teach you exactly how to be part of the world’s touchiest friend group,” he promises. “You're already a good hugger.” 

[mariasont]

can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??

Marked Territory - A.H

A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet

THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

wk: 1.2k

pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader

warnings: heavy makeout, jealously

You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.

"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."

You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."

Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"

You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."

A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."

You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.

You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.

The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.

You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.

"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.

With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 

"Honey--I, we're in the office."

His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."

An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"

Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.

With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.

A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."

Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."

His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."

Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.

"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."

Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[yeyinde]

preacher's daughter (Ethel Cain inspired) and biker Ghost would go so hard. all that corruption, religious trauma/catholic guilt, and small town gothic misery, you know?

sheltered daughter meets violence personified. the devil and the sacrificial lamb. you meet him when you wander up to the motorcycle club on the outskirts of town with a pamphlet about salvation clutched in your trembling hands. he leans his big, intimidating frame against the door jamb, and with his arms crossed over his broad chest, says must be good on your knees, aren't you, birdie?

(you answer with an earnest yes, sir, i worship on my knees everyday and pretend the heat that flares in your belly when he groans is from the too-hot sun; the first of many sins.)

later that evening, your daddy tells you that he's an honest and good man, but sometimes he prays that God strikes that vile place right down. you bite your tongue and nod, but sneak out at night and meet him there where you slip into silk lingerie and dance on stage just for him. he tells every man there that if he catches them staring at you, he'll stab them in the eyes, and you think it's the most romantic thing you'd ever heard.

it's love letters carved into the sunbleached bones of a half-submerged deer left to rot in the stagnant bog just outside of the abandoned white chapel. something watches you from the dark stained glass windows as he runs his tattooed fingers over your skin, leaving smears of gunpowder and soot.

(someone set the old man's car on fire—the who leered at you while you stood in the choir, wearing your lily white dress and sang glory be while you tried to forget what those tattooed hands felt like when they slipped under your skirt and between your thighs.

the old man was still inside—)

they call him a ghost. a demon. you call him Simon and daydream during bible study that you'll run away together. hop on the back of his old Harley and forget this place ever existed.

a daydream that quickly turns into a nightmare when your sordid relationship comes to light, and your daddy threatens to have him locked away for good. there's a gun in the safe upstairs. you think about the time Simon dragged you into the woods to shoot at cans and lose your faith under the sweltering sun when you pull the trigger.

"for us," you tell him, breathing in the dank church air ripe with sin and the stench of blood. "i did it for us."

it's leaning on the back of his Harley with your fingers threaded around his thick waist as the town grows smaller and smaller in the distance. staring up at the endless blue sky and grinning wide because you finally got your monster of a man wrapped around your finger.

(and all it took was a little deal made with the thing that lives in the abandoned church.)

[navybrat817]

Eye of the Beholder

Pairing: Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve is your beautiful bodyguard and he thinks you're beautiful, too.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Bodyguard trope, fluff, tension, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested for Bodyguard!Steve (who still does art) to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #45 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You shuffled through your closet with an audible sigh. You had to make an appearance at a party tonight and still didn't know what to wear. It was ridiculous since you had a wide range of dresses and outfits to choose from, but your heart wasn't in it. Maybe because you didn't want to attend. You’d rather curl up and watch a movie as you fell asleep, but it was part of your job to socialize and look pretty.

You weren't going to complain when many out there had it worse.

“Why don't you get some rest instead of going through your closet? Again?”

You turned and stared at your bodyguard who sat across the room. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Steve Rogers was stunning enough to be a model. With his intimidating stature though, he made the right call by becoming a personal protection specialist. Easy on the eyes and built like a brick house, today he wore a tight blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and chest. He looked like the type of man who could toss you around if you asked nicely.

But seeing the sketchpad in his lap, you wondered if your paths ever would've crossed had he focused on an art career instead.

“You know you don't have to be here until tonight, right?” You asked, ignoring his suggestion as you shut the door. “Or do you like spending your time off watching over me?”

It wasn't your idea to hire a bodyguard, but you understood your agent’s insistence for you to have one. There were overzealous fans and creeps out there who wanted you. Ones who would stop at nothing to have you. All because you were a model. And while you weren't aware of any recent threats or danger, you needed someone like Steve to watch out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

But Steve himself? He was a pleasant surprise. You expected a stoic but polite man since he called you “ma’am” with the most serious expression upon meeting you. The more time spent with him, you realized passion lurked beneath the surface. Beyond that, he was authentic. In a world surrounded by plastic smiles, fake talk, and people ready to knock you from the pedestal you never asked to be set on to begin with, he was a much needed breath of fresh air.

“Technically my next day off is two days from now, ma’am,” he gently corrected you. You could listen to him talk all day. “But day off or not, I don't mind spending any extra time with you.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks hot. You spent days around gorgeous people who didn't make you bat an eye or stutter, but any sort of compliment or kind word from this man always got to you. “Hey, haven't I told you not to call me ma’am?”

“You have. On more than one occasion over the last couple of months.” A smile touched his kissable lips. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

You leveled him with a cool gaze. “So, your eidetic memory is limited to visual aspects and not auditory memories?’ You asked.

His face lit up when he smiled. “You remembered that I have an eidetic memory?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep calling me ma’am and you’ll be out of a job,” you said, deflecting from his question.

He chuckled, not at all afraid of your threat. “You won't fire me,” he said.

It was true. Steve had lasted longer than you expected because you liked him. More than that, you trusted him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for you and also keep your secrets safe. Not that you had many, but you wouldn't hesitate to tell him anything.

Anything except how your thoughts about Steve were sometimes unprofessional.

“I guess I won't, but don't think I won't make you carry my clutch around if you keep that up,” you teased, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Steve has been in your room countless times and it always felt a bit warmer with him there. “On that note, I’m sorry you have to go to the party tonight.”

At least you didn't have to bring a fake date. Lord, you couldn't stand PR stunts like that. You didn't judge those in the industry who did it since you understood why. It just wasn't for you.

Would Steve have been jealous if you did? Or would he have insisted that you go alone for your safety?

“Don't apologize. Where you go, I go,” he assured you, your heart swelling. You reminded yourself that it was his job to do that and nothing more. “Just give me the signal when you want to leave.”

Steve didn't just keep an eye on you for protection, but looked out for your well-being. He made sure you got rest when you were tired, food when you were hungry, and privacy when the crowd became too much. Your past boyfriends never paid attention or cared that much. Why was a bodyguard so concerned?

“Do you ever get tired of this?” You asked, leaning back on your hands as you regarded him. “Keeping an eye on me? Going where I'm going?”

He stopped sketching to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection that you liked to imagine he reserved for only a select few. “I say with complete sincerity that not only am I not tired of being your bodyguard, but you’re the best client I’ve ever had the privilege of protecting.”

You were certain stars shone in your eyes. “You flatter me, Steve.”

“I only speak the truth.”

You covered your mouth when you yawned. “Flattery. Truth. You’re still good to me and I appreciate it.”

Steve sat up straight and put his pencil down, concern etched in his face. “You’re tired. I think you should take a quick nap while you can.”

The man had a bossy tendency at times, but it was for your own good. You waved him off anyway. You could sleep later tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal. “What are you drawing?” You asked.

“Take a nap,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn't help but shiver. That kind of tone almost made you blurt out “yes, sir”, but you refrained. “You're drawing ‘take a nap’?” You asked instead, doing an inner cheer when his lips twitched in a smile. “Show me what it is and I’ll get some sleep. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” He asked.

“I think if anyone could get me to do anything without too much of a fight, it's you, Steve,” you said sincerely

He ran a hand through his hair and shyly ducked his head. “I can't say no to those eyes.” He brought his chair closer so you didn't have to get up. “But no insulting my work, okay? My ego can’t take it today.”

“Since your ego can't take it today, I’ll save the insults for tomorrow,” you giggled, but it stopped the moment he showed you the page.

It was a drawing of you.

You almost touched the page before you stopped yourself, not wanting to smudge it. The details were immaculate, down to your facial features and how you held yourself. You couldn’t say it was like looking in a mirror because you had never seen yourself look so beautiful, but it was still a reflection of you and something deeper.

He captured an essence that no camera ever had. One you didn't know you possessed. It was a tender and sensual story told through his eyes. Was this really how you looked to him?

“Steve, this is…” You lost your breath as you looked in his eyes. Where he had been shy a moment ago, he held his head high. Proudly. He should be proud of his talent. “It’s beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze a combination of soft and heated. A combination that made you lick your lips and set your heart ablaze. “It’s, uh, also not the first drawing I’ve done of you,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again.

You saw color in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “You think I'm beautiful?” Plenty of people told you that, but you liked it more coming from him. It was an earnest sort of declaration without demanding anything from you in return. “And you have more drawings of me?”

Part of you hoped he drew you in intimate positions since you selfishly wanted him to desire you.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever known.” Steve placed a large hand on your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean in, your heart racing faster. Could he see your pulse racing in your neck? “And I do have more. Maybe if you're good, I’ll show them to you.”

Please.

You thought he was going to close the gap and kiss you, but a knock at the door made him pull away and reach for the gun in his holster. It was both sexy and disappointing to see him slip into his bodyguard mode. That was why he was there though. To protect you. Your safety came first.

“Steve?” An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he shook his head. “New guy. Doesn't know the knock yet. I’ll be right back,” he muttered, surprising you by brushing his lips against your forehead. “Lay down, please. I need you to get some rest for both of us.”

You watched him walk to the door and waited until he grabbed the handle to answer. “Maybe you can join me. Sir.”

The muscles in his back tightened, his gaze dark as he glanced back at you. “Be good,” he growled, leaving the room quickly. It was a sound you hadn't heard before.

Giggling, you flopped back on your bed. Steve drew you. He thought you were beautiful. He desired you. At least, you hoped so. Now the question was, how long would you stay at the party tonight before you picked up where you left off?

And would you behave?

I hope I did this justice. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[reidsworld]

giving old man!logan head in the limo has me feral. i just know theres a dirty mouth on that man

Warnings… fem!reader, smuttt, praise/degradation, oral sex (m receiving), no use of y/n, pet names (baby, slut), this is VILEE (rlly channeled my inner freak), not proofread lol (icl i wrote this on my phone). — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!!

Mars speaks… old man logan has me in a CHOKEHOLDD

Masterlist | Divider from @/saradika-graphics

You had been teasing Logan all night, testing the limits of his patience with every sly smile, every light touch, every whispered innuendo in his ear. The tension had built between you like a fire ready to ignite, and you knew exactly what you were doing.

Logan’s gaze was dark, his jaw clenched as he shifted in his seat beside you. Finally, with a low, frustrated growl, he turned to you, his eyes blazing. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, low, “you wanna act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one.”

That was how you ended up in the back of his limo, sliding down between his legs, your mouth leaving a trail of kisses along his chest, moving lower…

His voice was a rasp, barely more than a breath as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Your trailed your hands over the bulge in his pants, making swift work of pulling them down with his boxers, freeing his achingly hard cock.

While it wasn’t overly long— certainly not a length to be ashamed about— it was thick. His cock had a long vein running down the underside with many smaller veins scattered across it. It twitched desperately in his lap, the sensitive red tip oozing pre-cum.

“Holy shit…”

He let out a low chuckle at your words, clicking his tongue at you, “come on, get to work baby.”

You grinned up at him as you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the tip, making him nearly growl.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease.”

Giggling at his words you smile innocently as run your tongue along the slit of his cock. He threw his head back, groaning, his fingers threading themselves through your hair with a tight but gentle grip.

You sunk your head lower, the head disappearing between your lips. He gazed down at you, “look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock like that.”

Your tongue swirled around his cock, cheeks hollowing, and his grip on your hair tightened, “don’t be shy, I know you can handle more.”

He used the grip in your hair to push you down lower. Saliva began to drip down his cock as he filled your mouth. You used it as lube for your hands which found their way to his shaft, slowly stroking and twisting what was not in your mouth.

“Yeah that’s more like it, knew you could do it.”

You moaned around him in response, the vibrations shooting right through his cock, causing his hips to buck. The tip hit the back of your throat making you gag and slightly choke at the protrusion. But this didn’t make him pull back, he was too desperate he couldn’t stop.

“Y’okay, baby?” he asked, slowing the rate his hand was moving your head but not stopping. You tried your best to give a nod. Once he got your confirmation, he stopped his hand movement, gently thrusting his hips upwards into your throat.

He had let you have control for long enough and now he was getting desperate, he couldn’t wait. He gently tapped on the top of your head causing you to look up at him.

“M’gonna fuck your throat now, baby,” he told you and you nodded, your hands moving to grip his thighs. He used his hand to push your head lower before thrusting up into your mouth. He began to build a steady rhythm, his cock going deeper into your throat with each movement.

“So good, haven’t gotten somethin’ this good in a long time ‘nd definitely not from someone as pretty as you,” he praised, his Canadian accent thickening as his pace increased. You moaned at the praise, breathing through your nose as he pushed in further.

Your knees began to ache from being on the limo floor. As he set a brutal pace, it became messier and messier. His cock was now covered in saliva, you makeup was a mess from the small tears that fell each time he hit the back of your throat.

“Y’look so pretty like this, my little slut,” he grunted out as his thumb moved to wipe one of the tears that fell. You smiled around him and looked him in the eyes. His head fell back at the sight around him.

After a few minutes, you could tell by his demeanour and ever-so-slightly slowing pace that he was getting tired. you moved your hands up to his while looking at him in the eyes. You gave him a gentle nod. His grip loosened from your head before he laid further back against the seat, long arms stretching out.

“Just need a little break, you keep going,” he chuckled, muttering something about being old.

You held onto the sides of his thighs as you quickly bobbed your head up and down his cock. You looked up at him, moaning at the sight. He looked so good— head fallen back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, letting out little breaths.

This only spurred you on, taking him as deep as possible over and over again. His cock twitched at the back of your throat, a sure sign that he was getting close. You moved one hand to fondle his balls. You gently massaged them, scratching at his scrotum.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” he breathed out.

You picked up your pace as you felt his balls tighten in your hand. His thighs flexed and his hips bucked as he let out a lewd groan— almost growl of your name. Feeling his hot cum fill your throat, you pressed your head down, nose touching the hair at the base of his cock.

As he came down from his high, you pulled off him and looked up. He looked down at you with a lazy smirk on his face. He reached out his hand, helping you up from the floor before pulling you onto his lap.

His thumb wiped the half-dried tears from your face, his other hand snaking behind your neck and threading into your hair to pull you into a passionate kiss, his beard scratching at your chin.

As the two of you pulled apart, you grinned at him, “think you still have it in you to fuck me, old man?”

Mars speaks… (again) sorry if this is a bit of a mess, it’s like 1:30 in the morning rn and i wrote this instead of sleeping. any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[peppermintquartz]

NOW ON AO3

--

Eddie and Buck come through the door of Buck's loft together in a fit of giggles, still high over Chimney's expression being spat on by an alpaca, when they see Tommy sitting alone on the floor, pressed to a corner where he is staring out the window.

"Tommy?" Buck says, delighted and about to head over, when Eddie slaps a hand to Buck's chest. "What?"

Eddie's eyes narrow. There's nothing overtly odd, but there was something strange yet familiar about Tommy's expression and position.

"Buck, go make coffee."

"Eddie it's 9pm," Buck protests.

"Make. Coffee. And don't come over until I call you," Eddie doesn't mean to put on his Dad voice, but it works on Buck, and as Buck heads to the kitchen, Eddie goes to Tommy.

Thousand yard stare. Left hand clenched over the right wrist. Jaw set.

There is a knife in his right hand.

"Kinard, you okay there?" Eddie asks softly.

Tommy's gaze flickers and he looks at Eddie, a small frown creasing his brow. "I don't know."

"You know where you are?"

"Evan's place." He frowns more deeply. "I heard screams. Explosions."

Eddie sits down. He can hear the coffee machine going and Buck is probably hovering, waiting for Eddie's signal.

"When did you hear the sounds?"

"I don't know. I was... I was in my car, heading home. And then next thing I know I was... I heard screaming, and I drove here, and all I could think of was Evan. I had to get to Evan." Tommy blinks rapidly and his breathing picks up. "Where is-"

"Buck, come here," Eddie calls out.

Buck practically dashes over and kneels down next to his boyfriend. "Tommy."

"Evan," Tommy breathes out, and as if a string is cut, his rigid posture goes slack. "You're safe. You're safe."

Eddie exhales too. "Tommy, drop the knife."

"Knife?" Tommy looks at his hands and instantly relaxes his grip. The knife falls the short distance with a thud. Eddie reaches over and picks it up. A folding utility knife. Something Tommy would have in his car. "I didn't... Did I hurt anyone?"

"No," Eddie says with a tiny smile, patting his friend on the knee.

Beside him, Buck is swallowing down his thousand and one questions. He touches Tommy's arm tentatively, and is reassured when Tommy pulls him into a one-armed hug.

It could have gone badly, if Buck had run up to Tommy suddenly and unwarily. A knife wound to the gut would be a bad, bad thing, and Tommy would never forgive himself.

Some dark days, Eddie was thankful he had somehow had the presence of mind to lock the door before he fired the shots. If anything had happened to Christopher... He shakes himself out of the sheer horror of the thought.

"I thought... I heard screams," Tommy's telling Buck, "and I knew, I knew we were under attack, we had to find cover, but I needed to find you. I needed to make sure you were safe."

Buck kisses him on the forehead, then on the mouth, twice. "I am safe. We all are."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Either of you."

Eddie stands. "I think we all need some coffee."

-

Eddie and Tommy are sitting at the table, picking at what's left of the nacho chips, while Buck has been persuaded to go take a shower.

"You seeing someone about that?" Eddie asks.

"Used to." Tommy smiles grimly. "It was... It was really bad at first, when I just came back, but it's been... Shit, it's been a year and half? two years? since the last one."

"Auditory hallucinations."

"Explosions and screaming. There were... It was an accident, they told us afterwards. Bad intel. Civilians weren't supposed to be hurt." Tommy snorts. "Bullshit liars, all of them."

"That why you left?"

"Once the tour was done, I was too. I like flying. I don't like killing." Tommy's face is ashen. He looks a decade older with exhaustion. "I like what I've built since."

"I can tell." Eddie sighs and grabs Tommy's wrist, squeezes it once to get his attention. "And before you beat yourself up about the knife, I'm gonna tell you that you had a firm grip on your knife hand." He leans in, catches Tommy's guilt-ridden gaze. "You would not have hurt him. Part of you was keeping yourself in check." He squeezes again when Tommy tries to avert his eyes. "Tommy. You wouldn't have hurt him."

"I might in the future."

"We'll tell him how to manage this, okay? Because... Because he's had to deal with me too. He gets it. He really does."

Closing his eyes, Tommy inhales, holds his breath, and exhales. "Okay."

From the bathroom, Buck calls out, "So you guys done with the heart to heart yet or do I have to stay in here any longer?"

Eddie laughs, and is relieved to see Tommy's face crinkle up in that same warm, familiar grin. We're all gonna be fine.

[writeriguess]

Can you do Katsuki x fem reader one shot where you fight but it ends in angry sex

The training room was empty, save for the sound of rapid, heavy breathing and the occasional curse. You were tired, sweat pouring down your face, but you refused to back down. Not today.

Katsuki stood a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists, sparks flying from his palms as he glared at you with those fiery crimson eyes. “What the hell was that, [Y/N]?! You were sloppy out there!”

You wiped your brow with the back of your hand, frustration boiling inside you. “I was doing my best, Bakugou! Not everyone can be a goddamn perfectionist like you.”

His eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips curling into a snarl. “Don’t give me that crap. You think villains are gonna go easy on you because you’re tired? Because you’re trying your ‘best’? You’ll be dead before you know it if you don’t start taking this seriously.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of exhaustion and anger making your vision blur. “I am taking this seriously! Maybe if you weren’t such an ass all the time, people wouldn’t be so on edge around you!”

Katsuki stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating as he towered over you. “You think I care about that? I’m not here to make friends; I’m here to win. And so should you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You’re so obsessed with winning that you’ve forgotten what it means to actually care about someone!”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Katsuki’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared you down. Then, with a growl, he grabbed your arm, pulling you close. “You think I don’t care?”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. The force of it knocked the breath out of you, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed closer, your hands gripping his shirt as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

It was a battle for dominance, both of you too stubborn to back down, too hungry for the release only the other could provide. Katsuki’s hands were rough as they slid down your sides, his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes. You gasped as he pushed you against the wall, his body pinning yours as he kissed you harder, deeper, as if trying to prove a point.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” you challenged, your own voice breathless, trembling.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the nearest surface. The cold metal of the training bench met your back, a stark contrast to the heat of Katsuki’s body as he settled between your legs.

Clothes were discarded hastily, neither of you caring where they ended up as the need to feel each other’s skin became overwhelming. Katsuki’s hands roamed your body with a mix of roughness and care, his touch igniting every nerve as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

When he finally entered you, it was with a single, forceful thrust that made you cry out, your nails digging into his back as your body arched against his. Katsuki didn’t wait for you to adjust, setting a hard, punishing pace that left you breathless, moaning, and completely at his mercy.

Each thrust was a reminder of the fire between you, the passion that neither of you could deny, even when it came out as anger. You matched his intensity, meeting him thrust for thrust, your body demanding as much as he was willing to give.

“Tell me,” he growled into your ear, his voice strained. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body tightening around him as you gasped out, “I’m yours, Katsuki. Only yours.”

The admission seemed to spur him on, his movements becoming even more frantic, desperate. He kissed you again, his lips bruising against yours as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he drove into you with a force that had you seeing stars.

The pleasure built up inside you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping his name. Katsuki followed soon after, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release sending shockwaves through your already trembling body.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the aftermath of your passionate encounter settling around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Katsuki didn’t move, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his hands still holding you close.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, a little less harsh, but still unmistakably Katsuki. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You smiled, your hand coming up to cup his cheek as you looked into those crimson eyes that were now filled with something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass.”

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more tender. “Damn right you are.”

Requests are open.

[barefoothighlander]

Protective Ghost perhaps ?

Love me a protective hulk of a man and clapping my cheeks like a mad man 🫣

scary boyfriend privileges for real

warnings: mdni (18+), unwanted male attention, insinuation of assault, smut, unprotected pinv, est relationship, masturbation (fem), fingering, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, lil bit of choking, possessive!ghost, rank kink if u squint

"Hey, where are you?"

"Just at the house, Is everything alright love?" He can sense the panic in your voice through the phone,

"Everything's fine just, do you think you'd be able to pick me up?"

"Be there in 10"

He ends the call, leaving you to listen to the echoes of strangers in the streets, standing alone outside your office building, you didn't intend on working late but something had come up and you told Simon that you'd just walk home after work, it was only a few blocks to your shared flat.

At first, he blatantly refused the idea, arguing that he'd just pick you up even if it meant waiting around for a few hours when he already had plans, you argued back stating that it wouldn't be dark considering the sun wouldn't set till later, and the walk was short. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing to your terms of having your location on during your walk and keeping a finger on the pepper spray he had placed in your purse.

Everything was going fine until you actually stepped out of the office, ignorant to the fact that there was a football match that night, and the pubs would be littered with drunk patrons, shouting from every street corner. The echoes of their voices made you nervous, the fact that you didn't have your scary boyfriend to protect you made it worse, a small panic setting into your nerves as you picked at your nails.

You move to the curb to watch for his truck, eyes glazing over every pair of headlights that made their way down the street, tapping your foot in an effort to ease yourself.

"OI"

You turn your attention to the shout,

"Yea you, whatcha doin all alone out here love?" A man standing a few feet away begins walking towards you, even from the distance you can smell the alcohol on him, turning away to ignore him.

"Ah c'mon then, just tryna have a chat"

"M'not interested, sorry"

"Inna chat? Don't worry I won't bite"

You take a few steps back as the man gets closer, invading your space as he continues to speak,

"Don't have to be a priss, just wondering why a pretty lil thing like you s'all alone"

"I'm waiting for someone" You nervously dart your eyes around, willing Simon to appear,

He stumbles closer "You gotta boyfriend?"

"Yep" You cross your arms over your chest, walking backwards as the man continues to get closer

"Bet I'd treat ya better, wouldn't let you walk around all alone" He drags out the last word, staring directly at you,

"You know, I'm just gonna walk, have a good night" You turn to walk down the street, moving at a rushed pace,

"I'll walk you home" He moves in tandem with you

"No that's alright, I'll manage"

Your body freezes as his hand makes contact with your arm, tugging you back a step as he grips the skin, "Why've you got to be such a bitch?"

You try to pull your arm from his hold, "Excuse me?"

"Just tryna be nice"

"You're hurting me" Your body is in full panic, your mind racing as the man's stare pins you down, his grip firing you backwards until your back collides with the wall.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if you played along"

His words make your chest feel hollow, your eyes moving to avoid his gaze before they land on a pair of headlights in front of you, the slam of a car door breaking your focus as you let out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend moving towards you.

In a flash the man is off you, Simon's grip around his collar as he pins him to the wall, the back of his head hitting against the stone as you gasp.

"Si-"

"Get the fuck out of here"

The stranger's eyes widen at the sight of the masked man, Simon's large form dwarfing his as his arm holds his shirt tight around his neck, Simon releases him, the man gasping for air, sparing you a final look before rushing down the street.

"I'm sorry I-"

He cuts you off, "Get in the car"

You spend the short ride home in silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on, the tension in the air palpable as you let yourself out of the truck, following behind Simon as he makes his way into the house.

You flinch as he slams the door behind him,

"M'not mad at you" His voice comes from behind you

"I know"

You watch as he storms toward the bedroom in a fury, his fists clenched as he breezes by you. following him through the room. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits in a chair, alone in the corner facing the bed, his legs spread as his hands settle on the arms of the seat.

"Take your clothes off"

You do as he says, nervous fingers working to remove your shirt before reaching for the belt on your pants, tugging them down your legs,

"All your clothes"

You stand naked before him, his eyes roaming over your form, his stare making goosebumps rise on your skin,

"Get on the bed"

You sit on the edge of the mattress, shuffling your body backwards as you rest against your arms,

"I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me"

Your throat dries at his words, your eyes looking for some sign of sympathy but there's nothing behind the mask, doing as you're told you snake a hand down your torso, settling your fingers against your clit, cursing yourself at how wet you already were.

You work your fingers around the bud, keeping your gaze locked on him as pleasure blossoms in your chest, your heels digging into the sheets as you find a rhythm.

He doesn't say anything but you can see the strain on his knuckles as he grips the armrests of the chair, his pants growing tighter with every moan that falls from your lips. You're teetering on the edge but it's not enough,

"Simon, please,"

"Your fingers not enough?"

You shake your head, "Need you"

"Need me to what?"

"Need you to fuck me, please"

He wastes no time in standing from the chair, practically tearing his pants down before his hands grip your waist, flipping you with ease so that your chest presses against the mattress, your cheek digging into the sheets as he presses his length against you.

He groans at the feeling of your weeping pussy against his length, his palms spreading you so he can get a better view,

“So fucking perfect, you gonna be good for me?”

You wriggle your hips for him, “Yes, all for you”

“Good girl” He drags his palm along the length of your spine, settling his fingers around the nape of your neck as he lines himself up, teasing his head through your folds, collecting your slick before inserting himself.

He bottoms out with a grunt, his pubic bone pressing against your ass as he leans over your form, caging you and forcing you to take every inch of him. You whimper below him, begging him to move as he holds himself still inside you.

He pulls himself nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing a yelp from you as he begins pumping into your pussy, your slick gathering around his shaft as his cock splits you open.

“So fuckin tight love”

His fingers dig into your waist with a bruising grip, holding you still as he thrusts into you, you can feel the coil inside you still burning but it’s still not enough,

“Si, please, need more”

His hand reaches around your neck, pulling you from the bed so your back is flush with his chest, his fingers teasing on your pulse point. He snakes his other hand around to toy with your clit, you clench down on him as he makes contact, his rough fingers circling the bud.

“Can’t cum unless it’s me huh?”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut,

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Si, fuck”

“Not good enough” His hand constricts around your throat

You struggle to find your words, his cock driving into you from below, “It’s yours Lieutenant, only yours”

“Much better” His hand releases your throat allowing you to gasp for air in between your moans, your orgasm threatening to erupt from inside you.

His hands knead at your breasts, teasing and pinching the raised buds as his fingers work in tandem with his strokes, you reach behind you to touch him, to grab anything to ground yourself , your fingers settling on the hem of his mask.

“That’s it love, soak my cock, show me how good I make you feel”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire as all your muscles tense, Ghosts moans fill your ears as your pussy clenches down on him, his hips stuttering for a moment as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you come down he pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of contact as his hands find their way back to your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

You wrap your limbs around him, holding him to you as he pushes deep inside you, his face is inches from yours, his eyes glued to where you meet.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy, maybe i’ll fuck a baby into you, s’that what you want? Want everyone to see your stomach grow with my fuckin seed? Let them know who you belong to?”

His gaze turns to you, his dark eyes staring back at you, you struggle to form a response, your hand moving to tug at the hem of his mask as your hooded eyes watch him. Like he’s reading your mind he tears the mask off in seconds, revealing his face to you, his rosy cheeks and plump lips, the way his jaw clenches with every thrust.

“I’m yours, only yours”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your moans as he kisses you, rough and messy as your arms snake around his neck, holding him to you.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight beautiful”

“Cum in me Si, need to feel you”

He watches your eyes fill with lust, your soaking pussy swallowing him as he bottoms out, your heels dig into his back as he spills his seed into you, coating your walls.

“Fuckin hell” He holds himself inside you as he finishes, his softening cock holding his cum deep in your pussy as he leans in for another kiss, it’s more tender this time.

He pulls out of you slowly, pushing up the bed and lying back as his arms tug you to him, your legs tangling with him as your hands find their spot on his chest.

“M’sorry”

His fingers thread through your hair, “S’not your fault love”

“I know I just feel stupid”

“You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that”

You give a small hun in response,

“I would’ve killed him”

“I know”

“Like terrible, awful, excruciating pain kinda murder”

You huff a small laugh in response, knowing that he was deadly serious as you push yourself from his side, your palms nudging him over,

“C’mon go get dressed for bed”