#sorry that the ending is a little scruffy

[witchywithwhiskey]

How about Bucky and “what are you going to do? punish me?”

Maybe we want something from our favorite super solider but can’t say the words and try to provoke him instead.

tempting fate in the park

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, fingering (f receiving), handjob, come play, come marking, public play, little bit of exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluffy ending

word count: 4,000ish

a/n: i realized far too late that i didn't incorporate your premise at all, so sorry about that!!! also for everyone else, this is the fic where i was looking for a trope like 'dad's best friend'. i ended up going with 'dad's business rival' as a trope because it gave me a fun dynamic to play with!! hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

It was a beautiful spring afternoon and you were taking a slow, meandering stroll through Central Park, a sly smile on your face as you delighted in the knowledge that you had a secret. Beneath your flirty little sundress—the one you’d worn because the day was bright and warm and gorgeous—you were as bare as the day you were born. 

The hem of your dress fluttered around your thighs, the cool breeze wafting through the park teasing you with the prospect of flashing some unsuspecting stranger with a salacious view of your most intimate place. Just the thought of that news getting back to your powerful CEO father had your smirk deepening. After all, it was fun to tempt fate.

But then, your afternoon took a fascinating turn when you spotted a familiar face walking down the same path as you, going in the opposite direction: Mr. James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky to his friends. 

But you weren’t his friend, you were the daughter of his business rival. And it was a bitter rivalry. 

You’d heard your father rage about Bucky on a number of occasions—cursing out the younger CEO for stealing some business or other from him. You were certain it didn’t help that Bucky was at least 10 years younger than your father, making his slights cut all the more.

Still, that didn’t stop your father from inviting Bucky to all his charity events and galas, always pretending to make nice with the younger CEO before whispering cutting remarks behind his back. It all seemed so ridiculous to you, but you didn’t mind the moments you were able to chat with Bucky.

He was handsome, after all—and single, if the rumors amongst New York City’s elite were to be believed. Plus, Bucky had an impish sort of charm that appealed to you, and you often wondered if perhaps he might be the man of your dreams, if only he wasn’t your father’s business rival.

But your father was nowhere near Central Park on that warm spring afternoon, and as you strolled casually down the path, your eyes watched Bucky closely as he walked in your direction. You didn’t think he’d noticed you yet, so you took the moment to appreciate the older man’s attractiveness.

His brown hair was swept back from his handsome face and styled in such a way that begged to have someone sink their fingers into his soft locks—and you wanted desperately to be that person. Trailing your gaze down his broad and tall body, you couldn’t help but think that Bucky looked distinguished, even with his slightly scruffy beard, and polished in a gray t-shirt, dark jacket and dark slacks. 

Your eyes were only just wandering back to Bucky’s face when they snagged on his bright blue gaze. A devilish smirk curled Bucky’s soft lips and you knew you’d been caught gawking at the older man. Heat flamed in your cheeks—and other parts of your body—as Bucky approached you. But you refused to be embarrassed, so you lifted your chin and fixed a playful smile on your face, waiting for Bucky to come to you. 

He stopped a polite distance away and greeted you with a nod of his head, his blue eyes sparkling and the edges of his mouth curved in a smirk. You did your best not to appear flustered as you exchanged pleasantries, noting how Bucky kept his eyes fixed respectfully on your face. That is, until he didn’t.

When the conversation lulled, Bucky’s gaze drifted down your body, taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, the neckline dipping low on your chest and the hem riding high on your thigh. The soft cotton fabric was molded to your body in a way that you knew would be obscene if the cut of the dress wasn’t so sweetly innocent. Your body warmed in response to Bucky’s attention and you swayed closer to the older man. 

“That’s a pretty dress ya got on, darling,” Bucky rumbled, his voice going deliciously low, luring you in closer so you could hear him. 

Your feet shuffled forward of their own accord and you watched intently while he finished his perusal of your body with a lingering look at your plush thighs. When Bucky’s gaze finally lifted back to yours, his blue eyes were sparkling in the bright spring sunshine, and he had a pleased smile on his handsome face.

“Why don’t you give me a twirl,” Bucky suggested, some of that impish charm in his tone. “Let me see how pretty it looks from every angle.”

You were about to do as Bucky said, but then you remembered what was beneath your dress—or, rather, what wasn’t beneath it. Heat rose to your cheeks and your gaze darted around, taking in the sheer amount of people who were in Central Park in the middle of a weekday afternoon. There were a lot of strangers who’d be treated to a view of your pussy if you twirled for Bucky.

It was one thing to go for a walk while not wearing any panties beneath your dress. That was tempting fate and hoping the springtime breeze didn’t make a spectacle of your nakedness. But it was another thing entirely to actually, purposefully, flash the busy city park just to give your father’s business rival what he wanted. 

Steeling yourself, you returned your gaze to Bucky. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Mr. Barnes,” you murmured in what you hoped was a playful conspiratorial voice. You lifted the corners of your mouth in a smirk that hopefully looked more mysterious than nervous, and hid how much your heart was racing.

Bucky seemed intrigued by your refusal and he shifted forward, his eyes dragging slowly down your body as if he was looking for the reason you’d said no. When he couldn’t find anything amiss, he lifted his gaze back to yours.

“What’s the matter, darling,” he asked in a warmly teasing voice. “You worried it might get back to your father that you flashed a peek of your panties in the park?” There was a challenge in his gaze, one you were all too happy to meet, even as your body heated with desire.

“Why, of course not, Mr. Barnes,” you murmured breathily, playing up the innocence in your voice, trying to make yourself sound more sultry. Leaning in, you pressed a hand to his broad chest and pretended you were confiding in him, your head tilting back to hold his gaze. “I’m worried I’d flash much more than my panties if I twirled around in my dress.”

You felt Bucky’s stiffen beneath your fingertips and delighted in the way you felt him suck in a sharp breath, sizzles of desire zinging through your body and making you feel like you’d swallowed a whole bottle of champagne. Bucky’s eyes darkened as they roved over your face, like he was trying to discern whether you were telling the truth.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, darling?” he rumbled, his voice low, sending a deliciously dangerous shiver down your spine.

It was difficult to keep the innocent look on your face, but you managed, even if the corners of your mouth fluttered with the smirk you wanted to set loose. Instead of answering Bucky’s question, you cocked your head to the side, pretending you didn’t understand what he was asking. 

“Are you telling me you’re not wearing panties?” he asked, barely leashed emotion in his voice. It was deep and dark and you thought it might be anger, especially when he continued on in a voice that was as rough as gravel. “In the middle of a busy park, where anyone could look up your skirt—or touch you?” 

A snort left you before you could hold it back. You couldn’t help it, Bucky’s words sounded like a chastisement, which was silly because you were a grown woman and you knew the risks of going out without panties on. So you gave him the bratty response you felt his words deserved. 

“What are you going to do? Punish me?” you snarked, giving him a sweetly patronizing smile.

But it seemed you judged Bucky wrong because he only pressed closer to you, looming above you, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. 

“Darling, I’m not your daddy, I’m not gonna punish you,” he rumbled, holding your gaze captive while his fingers brushed against your though, trailing up under your skirt ever so slightly. He watched your chest heave as your breath hitched in your throat and slipped his hand between your legs, teasing the inside of your thighs beneath your skirt. “But you might have to worry about a public indecency charge given what I’m gonna do with you.”

“What’re you gonna do with me, Mr. Barnes?” you asked, unable to catch your breath for all the warmth and riotous sensation flooding your body.

Bucky gripped your chin with his other hand, holding you still so all you could do was stare into his sparkling blue eyes. “I’m gonna do whatever I damn well please, darling,” he said in a low, firm voice. Then he ducked down and pressed a hot kiss to your lips that felt like you were sealing a deal with the devil.

Before you could even hope to catch your breath, Bucky had wrapped one arm around your waist and the other around your upper arm, walking you further into the park, keeping his pace quick. Your feet stumbled along with him, and you wondered dazedly what exactly he was going to do with you.

It wasn’t long before Bucky had led you into one of the more wooded areas of the park, finding a path that was deserted before he looked both ways and tugged you into the trees. He pulled you deep enough into the foliage that you were obscured from view of anyone on the path, then turned to you with a look of greedy hunger on his handsome face. 

Pressing you up against a tree, Bucky’s mouth descended on yours and he set about devouring you. 

His lips were soft, but unyielding, and possessive in the way they plundered your mouth, his hands just as demanding, tugging down the front of your dress beneath your tits so they were pushed up in an offering to your father’s business rival. Bucky accepted them eagerly, groping your soft flesh and plucking at your nipples until you gasped loudly into his mouth.

“Shh, darling,” Bucky muttered with a teasing smirk, “you’re gonna have to be quieter than that.” His free hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you to the tree, a wordless threat in the loose way he held you, but didn’t choke you. Yet.

It made a delicious heat flare through your body, and again, you rose to the challenge in his words. Lifting your chin, you looked Bucky dead in the eye and murmured, “Make me, Mr. Barnes.”  

Bucky’s eyes darkened and his fingers squeezed a little tighter around your throat, digging into the sides and making your heart race as you hiccuped a gasp of desire. 

“You’re such a filthy girl, darling,” Bucky rumbled, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek before dragging his mouth to your ear. “Makes me so fucking hard.” His hips bucked against yours and you felt the truth of his words.

Trailing your fingers down Bucky’s chest, you teased along the hem of his pants, wanting desperately to take him into your hand, but you paused. Catching Bucky’s eye, you let him see the wordless question in your eyes. It was only when he nodded that you eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, reaching inside and wrapping your hand around Bucky’s cock. 

“So big,” you whispered wondrously, stroking his thick cock in your hand. You flicked your wrist, squeezing the tip and watched as Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, the older man letting out a restrained groan at the feeling of you jerking him off. “Now who needs to be quiet, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, smirking up at him.

That had Bucky’s eyes snapping open and in the next breath his hand slipped between your legs, trailing up your thighs until his fingers brushed against your bare pussy. You were practically dripping for him, and you were certain he could feel it from the way his blue eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide with desire as he cursed.

“Fuck, you really aren’t wearing panties,” he bit out on a low groan, a little bit of surprise in his tone. Still, he seemed pleased by the revelation. His fingers dipped into your slit, his eyes watching your lips part in a soft moan while he teased your hole until your knees trembled beneath you. His expression shifted to one of affection, even as he rumbled, “You’re trouble, darling, d’you know that?”

Heat and pleasure swirled through your body so furiously, you were afraid you might collapse to your knees, even with Bucky’s hand wrapped around your throat and his other teasing your soaking wet folds, but you managed to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m only trouble if I get caught,” you replied blithely, giving Bucky a mischievous smile. 

He chuckled, the sound low and raspy and devolving into a groan when you stroked his cock harder, your fist gripping him firmly. He gave you a heated look, then pushed two fingers into your tight hole and choked you at the same moment. It was a good thing he did, because his hand cut off the loud moan that would’ve spilled from your lips at the delicious intrusion of his fingers.

“Let’s make sure we don’t get caught then, darling,” he rumbled, fucking you with his fingers, his palm slapping quietly against your clit as he set a fast, hard rhythm. Pleasure spun through your mind, so sharp and delicious it made you struggle to keep up with the older man, your fist working his cock at the same furious pace he set. 

All the while, Bucky held your gaze captive with his own, his eyes every so often drifting down to watch the way your chest heaved with panting breaths, your tits bouncing out of the confines of your dress, or the way your lips were parted as you tried to get enough oxygen to your lungs through his squeezing hand. 

You, too, watched your father’s business rival come undone right before your eyes. His handsome face was flushed, his cheeks pink above his beard, his blue eyes darkening even further, and his soft mouth twisting in a snarl of pleasure. When his hips began thrusting into your hand, you suspected he was close, which he confirmed with his heated question.

“Where d’you want me to come?” Bucky ground out through clenched teeth, his hand loosening around your neck to let you speak. But he didn’t stop pounding into your cunt with his fingers and it was difficult to think. You were halfway lost to pleasure, which was your only excuse for the answer that slipped from your mouth.  

“Come on my pussy, sir—please,” you begged, your voice husky and as quiet as you could manage with the way a pleasured cry was building in your chest. Rucking up your dress with your free hand, you stared into Bucky’s eyes as you murmured, “Mark me with your come.”

Bucky choked off the moan that threatened to fall from his lips, shoving his fingers deep in your cunt and pressing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Pleasure coiled tight in your core, but when he ground his palm against your clit, you were lost to him. 

Your entire being shattered apart as you came on his hand, your mouth dropping open and your body shaking from overwhelming sensation. Thankfully, Bucky choked you hard enough to silence the scream of pleasure that wanted to break free, the restriction of air making you feel the pleasure of your release more acutely.

It was only when darkness began to creep into the edges of your vision and the waves of your orgasm began to abate, that Bucky loosened his hold on you. His hand fell away from your throat entirely and he kissed you fiercely, his lips praising you wordlessly.

You were so distracted by his mouth that it took you a moment to realize his hand had dropped from your throat to wrap around yours. He was guided your fingers up and down his cock, helping you stroke him fast and firm.

Ending the kiss with a low gasp, Bucky pressed his forehead to yours and looked down between your bodies to where he was using your hand to jerk his cock, like your fist was his own personal fleshlight. The sight was so erotic, your pussy fluttered around Bucky’s fingers, which were still inside you. 

“Ya want me to come on your pussy, darling?” Bucky huffed, his chest heaving with heavy breaths even as he managed a teasing tone. “Want your daddy’s biggest business rival to mark your cunt with my seed, huh?”

“Yes, sir, please,” you begged in a breathy voice, wanting nothing more in that moment. You didn’t know where the desire came from, but you didn’t question it—only gave into it.

“Gonna make a mess of you, darling,” Bucky rumbled in warning, though his words only succeeded in turning you on again. Your pussy clenched around him again, making him huff a laugh even as he went on. “You’re gonna be dripping with my come for the rest of the afternoon.”

God help you, but you wanted it. You wanted to feel his come splash against your soft skin, you wanted the dirty, delicious knowledge that you were covered in his come beneath your dress while no one was the wiser. You wanted it so badly that you begged again, “Please, Mr. Barnes, please come on my pussy—I want it.” 

Bucky closed his eyes like he was in pain, like your words were his undoing, and then he captured your lips, using your mouth to muffle his sounds of pleasure as he came. You felt the warm ropes of Bucky’s come spray against your mound and lower belly, rolling down your body. You kissed Bucky back fiercely, swallowing down every grunt and groan he uttered while he unleashed himself. 

When he finally finished, he pulled away and you both looked down your body, watching where Bucky’s come caught in his hand cupping your pussy. He used his palm to rub his seed into your skin, making your cunt even messier than before. Both of you moaned at the sight, your body clenching tight a the debauchery of the moment.

“Fuck, darling, I can feel the way your pussy’s squeezing me,” Bucky muttered, looking up and catching your eye, giving you a charmingly devilish grin. “Makes me think you want me to dump my next load deep in your cunt.”

Your head fell back against the tree behind you and you let out a low, filthy moan of delight, making Bucky’s eyes darken again. But before either of you could say anything more—before you could beg your father’s business rival to come deep in your pussy—the sounds of people walking by on the park trail not too far from where you stood broke through your private moment. 

Realizing the precariousness of your situation, Bucky quickly, but gently, eased his hand from your pussy and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers clean. You were too dazed from pleasure to move yet, but when he swiped it against your belly, cleaning his seed off your skin, you whimpered in disappointment. 

“Shh, darling, I just wanna get us out of the park without getting that public indecency charge,” Bucky murmured comfortingly, pressing a kiss to your temple that made you smile and stop your protests.

He pocketed the dirtied handkerchief and tucked his cock back into his pants, then helped you fix your dress. Easing you away from the tree, Bucky shed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders to hide the scratches and indents from the bark.

You leaned heavily into Bucky’s side as he walked you back through the park toward the entrance near which you’d first spotted him. It was only when Bucky guided you to the passenger door of a nice looking car that you found your voice again. 

“Where are we going, Mr. Barnes?” you asked, a little teasing tone in your voice. When you looked up into Bucky’s handsome face, you wore an impish smirk, hoping he wasn’t done with you yet.

Bucky pushed you gently back against the side of his car, his hands on your hips beneath his jacket and his body looming over yours. A shiver of delight raced down your spine and you reached up, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair like you’d wanted to when you first saw him. Bucky turned his head and kissed the inside of your wrist before pinning you with his intense gaze.

“I’m taking you back to my place, darling,” Bucky murmured softly, a smile on his lips that turned amused. “Did you think a little fooling around in the park was all I wanted?”

You squirmed in his arms, feeling young and insecure all of a sudden under the weight of the older man’s fierce stare. Dropping your gaze to his beard, you avoided his eye as you spoke. 

“I don’t know what you want, Mr. Barnes,” you confessed, realizing only after the words fell from your lips that you meant more than just what Bucky planned to do with you that day. Feelings rushed through your body, your heart pounding in your chest and you felt shy in front of Bucky for the first time. 

But he seemed to know exactly how to handle your sudden change of mood. Curling a finger under your chin, he tilted your face up to look at him. His blue eyes were sparkling with a warm affection that made you settle a little. 

“I want everything you’re willing to give me,” he rumbled in a gentle voice before ducking down and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull back far, keeping his face close to yours. “And please, call me Jamie,” he murmured, a tenor of vulnerability in his tone that surprised you.

You smiled against his mouth, finding it easier to tease him again. “I thought all your friends called you Bucky,” you whispered, your body lighting up at his continued closeness. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your chest to his, enjoying the way your nipples dragged against his t-shirt.

Bucky chuckled and you could feel the sound reverberate in your chest, sending heat curling through your body. “Darling,” he said, his tone affectionately teasing. “You’re much more than a friend, wouldn’t you say?” 

At that, you managed a cheeky smile, leaning back to let him see your happy expression. “Yeah, I would,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. That time, it was your turn to devour his mouth, enjoying the taste and feel of him as you made out against his car. 

When you finally pulled away, it was with a sigh of, “Jamie.” 

With a pleased smile on his face, Bucky helped you into his car, his hand immediately settling possessively on your thigh once he’d sat in the driver’s seat. You relaxed into the soft leather seat, unable to think of anything else except how content you were with the turn your spring afternoon had taken. 

Perhaps you’d been tempting fate by walking around the park without anything on under your dress. But it seemed fate had led you straight into the arms of Bucky, so you couldn’t feel even a little bit remorseful for your reckless behavior.

Especially not when Bucky squeezed your thigh and flashed you a charming smile that had you thinking your father’s business rival might just turn out to be the man of your dreams after all.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Love After War

♪ please forgive me, baby…..don't you love it when we fight?♪

✩ logan 'wolverine’ howlett x mutant!fem reader

✩ tags: a little angst, cursing, mentions of blood, makeup sex, degrading, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, squirting, clawing kink (don’t judge me), mentions of breeding, face sitting, sadism, etc….

✩ note: had deadpool 3 wolverine in mind when making this, i love older men. listen to the song for added vibes

you slammed your glass down on the bar top, cracking it, causing your friends and him to look over at you. you could feel his deep brown eyes scan your face, and you quickly met them; eyes holding nothing but anger.

“uh oh, looks like someone’s on their period! anyone have a tampon?” wade joked, hoping to ease some tension, but you weren’t in the mood for him, not now.

“shut the fuck up wade!” there was silence but everyone’s face said it all. it was unlike you to curse and yell at wade, usually you would joke with him or egg him on; but tonight was different. you were pissed. pissed at logan.

you turned to look at the male, whom downed his shot of whiskey like it was water.

“how can you sit here, celebrating like you didn’t just try to sacrifice yourself and leave me behind?” your voice cracked at the end, making his hazel eyes widened. it had dawned on him that he had hurt you, he was going to sacrifice himself to save this universe; which would ultimately leavethe only person who cared about him all alone to reap in their sorrows.

he said nothing and got up from his bar stool, digging into his suit and throwing out a wad of cash on the mahogany counter top; before reaching over to grab your hand—leading you out of the bar.

“taking you home.” he muttered, pushing the bar’s wooden door open which slammed behind the both of you. wade was the first one to turn and speak, “oh those two are about to fuck hard!”

using his claws to unlock a random car, the two of you hopped in; with him in the driver seat and you in the passenger—silence simmering between the two of you. there was nothing more for you to say, you said everything, now the cards were on his lap.

on the way up to your apartment, you gave him the cold shoulder—your back towards him and he to notice to it. he couldn’t help his honey colored eyes from dropping down to your plump ass; loving the way the leather clung to your body. he watched your ass sway and switch with each stride you took as the two of you entered your apartment.

you kicked off your shoes and turned to look at him, still pissed off. how could he not say anything? didn’t he love you?

“so you’re just going to stand there? and—“ you were cut off as the mutant pressed his lips against your’s; the scruffiness of his mustache scratching your top lip while his musky scent flooded your nose, making you melt into the kiss. he held the back of your head, holding you while your body started to get weak—his tongue dominating yours once he slipped it in. the taste of the whiskey he downed minutes ago, warmed up your mouth.

and when he pulled away, you were breathless, “im sorry, I wasn’t considering how you felt in that moment—“ you held a finger up to his lip, silencing him. you were angry, that was a fact, but the way he just kissed you; had you feeling another emotion—one that surpassed the anger.

“you’re about to make it up to me, right now.” you slowly stripped in front of him, your eyes glued to his as you stepped out of your suit—tossing it somewhere across the room—before you reached behind you to undo your bra.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to put his hands all over you, have you say his name over and over again; he had to fuck you. logan sauntered over to you and pulled you into another kiss, this one more rougher than the last. in an instant he had you hoisted up into the air, your legs wrapped around his waist as he led you over to your black plush couch—siting down while you straddled him.

his huge calloused hands trailed all over you body, running up and down your smooth back; before finally resting on your ass. you could feel hard he was underneath his suit and that’s when you realized he was still clothed. you were beyond impatient and he knew it, he could smell how bad you wanted him; so he was going to give you exactly what you needed.

he held onto you as he laid down on your couch, pulling you by your hips, onto his face—he used his teeth to tear your panties aside; giving him full access to your needy cunt. you let out moan as he lapped up your juices, savoring your delectable flavor like he was a dog who had just gotten some water.

his mustache tickled your clit in the right way, making you slowly grind your hips against his face while you hands clutched your tender breasts. his tongue worked in overdrive, swirling your swollen bud against it; before he began to suck on it. your hands dropped from your breasts and onto his soft brown locks; gripping it tightly while your rode his face.

“fuck….gonna—shit logan!” you exclaimed, orgasm hitting you hard while he continued to eat you out. your body was hot and your legs tightened around his head, before loosening as he pulled you off of his face. he gripped your neck and smashed his lips onto yours, your tongue immediately falling into his mouth—your juices sweet on your tongue.

using your powers you ripped off his yellow and blue hero suit, unable to take it any longer. you needed him inside you now.

“please lo….fuck me hard~” you begged, hand immediately griping his fat leaky tip—causing the older male to suck in some air. he was quick, pulling you onto his lap and pushing his leaky head to your sodden entrance; stretching you out to fit his cock and his cock only.

you grip his shoulders, bracing yourself as pushed himself all the way inside of you. “logan…!” you whined, eyes fluttering shut once he filled you up; slowly rocking his hips to get you used to his size. he gritted his teeth and kept one hand on the top of your ass; keeping you in place.

“you can take it, right doll?” his words made your cunt flutter and you nodded your head, moving your hips to match his rhythm—which made his dick rub against your spot. he was so big and the more you moved, the more you were getting addicted to him. his scent, the way he would grunt from time to time and how perfect he fit inside you—everything about this man drove you insane. no wonder you fell in love with him.

you were coming undone by the second and it was driving logan feral. he watched as your movements became faster, your noises becoming louder and you throwing your head back—it fueled him, he needed to break you. logan pushed your back down, making your torso meet his chest—closing the space between the two of you—before he proceeded to slide down and bringing his hips upwards, to pound you.

your eyes shot open from the impact and as you opened your mouth to speak, only whines came out. this is exactly what you wanted—no this is what you needed. you couldn’t help, but to bring your head up and kiss him. after all, he was fucking you so good.

“that’s it….take it like the slut that you are~” he praised once you pulled away, his hips still pistoning ferociously in and out of your cunt. everything about this was nasty, the sounds you and your bodies were making and how he was fucking you—had you cumming for the second time tonight.

“that’s my girl. cum all over it,” his voice deep in your ear while your orgasm shot through you. you felt like you were reaching nirvana and you were loving it.

logan slowed down his stroke, giving you a moment to calm down, however it gave you the opportunity to take control. you sat up and gripped his hair in a tight fist, catching him by surprise before you repeatedly moved your lower half up and down on his hard cock. due to the pain he received, his claws unsheathed, and it made you even wetter as an idea popped up into your nasty little head.

“fuck!” he growled, watching as you moved like a bunny, taking every single inch he had. “put them inside of me, lo~” you moaned, tugging on his hair and keeping eye contact with him.

he rose an eyebrow and chuckled, “not gonna happen, bub.” you whined and pulled on his hair some more, slowing down your movements as well.

“please…you know i deserve it—shit, im a big girl. i can take it” he stared at you with low lidded eyes, loving how sexy you looked on top of him. the way your body glistened with sweat and illuminated from the moonlight that shone through your apartment’s window; helped him realize something. he was a fool for trying to sacrifice himself and leave you all alone.

“alright, princess. you can take it, right?.” he didn’t hesitate to stick his claws into yours sides, causing you to gasp and pull his hair some more. it felt like you were being pierced with fire and you could feel the blood trickle out of you. but, you weren’t worried not bit. you were a mutant after all, your regeneration factor kicked in seconds after.

you looked down at him and smiled, a euphoric feeling taking over your body—you were going to cum once more; draining him in the process. he couldn’t help but chuckle, “crazy bitch.”

he kept his claws in place while you grinding your hips in steady pace, making him rub against that soft spongy spot. you were cumming, the stimulation from his cock and his claws were going to make you cum—hard.

“cumming! cumming so hard for you~” you whined, ass clapping against his pelvis while you started to bounce. logan grunted and pushed his hips upwards, halting your movements as you came—a clear stream of liquid shot out of you; shocking him.

“did you just squirt, princess?” his voice was panty wetting deep when he spoke and you let out a moan in response. he stuck his claws in deeper and began to pound you you, catching you off guard and making you scream. he closed his beautiful eyes and let out a primal growl, emptying his load into you with a few more pumps. the two of you stayed like that, his cock twitching while he panted your walls milky white.

he opened his eyes and pressed his lips against yours, your lips intwining with one another, before he parted.

“god I love it when we fight. im never leaving you, i promise doll.”

[buckyalpine]

Dry humping chubby Bucky

Just imagine dry humping with subby chubby beefy Bucky. Using him for your pleasure, moaning and whining while you hump and grind yourself all over him. He’s a shy baby who can’t believe someone who looks like you would be so into someone like him. No amount of convincing works, which is how you both ended up on the couch with you straddled on his lap, rubbing yourself on his achingly hard length. 

You worship him, whispering the sweetest words while taking your clothes off one by one, leaving you in just the tiniest pair of lace panties, rubbing your clit right where the tip of his cock rests in his pants. 

“You’re so pretty like this, big boy” Your hands grip onto his thick shoulders, your fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck, tugging it every so slightly. His face is flushed, pink lips parted, gasping every time you move just right, his balls heavy, “My pretty baby boy” 

“Oh God” He whimpers, feeling spurts of precum drip from the tip, his entire body throbbing from how good it feels. At some point you lean back, grasping onto his thighs, putting your body in display for him while you continue to swivel your hips on his erection and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. 

“Fuck, James” You chant and moan his name, brows knitted together, refusing to take your eyes off him because he’s the one who makes you feel this good. You get off just getting to rub yourself on him and he better know it. He hesitates to touch you but when you throw your arms around his neck again, your breasts practically in his face, he can’t help but grab onto you. 

“Angel” He warns as best as he can, his cock his leaking and making a mess in his his pants, he’s going to blow his load if you don’t stop but you grind down hard on him and circle your hips. “S-slow down, I-please” 

He doesn’t want to blow just yet, he loves how you worship him, you turn into such a needy slutty kitten, making him feel so good and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he came in his pants like a little boy. He tries so hard to hold on, to stop himself from cumming but you make it impossible. 

You notice his hands grip you harder, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, chest heaving up and down. You let out a moan right by his ear at his cock swells, balls pulling tight to his body. Before he could say anything, sticky ropes of his spend throb out his cock from where your pussy humps him perfectly. 

He buries his face into your bare chest, taking a nipple into his mouth to muffle his moans, his hips stuttering from underneath, his large form under you squirming and trembling. You register his needy ministrations, hiding his face between broken moans, puffs of air hitting your warm skin as he pants. You pause your movement, your hands coming up to his face, pulling him away from your chest. 

“Did you cum baby?” You cup his scruffy cheek, making him look at you, his sweet blue eyes looking at you with shyness, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears. He nods, refusing to meet your eyes while you coo, kissing his face before capturing his soft lips. All he can do is nod, still looking away from you, nervously squeezing your hips in his large hands. 

“Sorry, I couldn't hold it” He whispered making you fall in love with him more. 

“Did it feel good, handsome?” Your nose bumped against his, loving the smile that graced his lips, blinking up at you. “I want to make you feel good, baby” 

His eyes grow wide when you slink off his lap and start to tug at the waistband of his pants, urging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down to his knees. He wants to squeeze his thighs shut, he isn’t even hard anymore. He doesn’t think you’d want to look at him when he’s soft, made a mess all over himself. 

“Angel, what are you-”

“Gotta clean you up, big boy” You take his softening cock, covered his silky cream into your mouth, lapping him right up, loving the slutty, desperate moan he lets out. He’s so sensitive, body jolting with each lap of your tongue but you’re not gonna be finished with him until he gets how perfect he is for you. 

Anyway. 

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | eight

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: the one where they get caught. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, domestic bliss, gratuitous descriptions of joel reading, joni mitchell, explicit unprotected piv sex, delayed gratification, dirty talk, finger sucking, biting, academic praise kink, cream pie, who's in the pic on joel's desk??, angst, confrontation, an orpheus and eurydice metaphor uh oh, those blue panties from 3 come back to haunt us. word count: 6.9k nice series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: i need someone to make me write [or not write] the way j miller phd does in this... also sorry and i hope you like it and sorry again follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part eight of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Winter descends over Maine not with a bang, but with a whimper.  

The days and weeks fold together in a blurring mess of sleep ins and papers and coffees, until suddenly a month has passed, and you hardly noticed it slipping through your fingers.

You spend less time at home, and more tucked on one side of Joel’s couch, your feet in his lap as he lounges down the other end. You dip pale toast in runny yolks at the table, listening to him on the phone to Sarah in the other room. Hear him say I’m good, baby girl… I’m really good when she asks how he is.

You ride shotgun in the truck between his place and the university, slipping out the passenger door a little early every time. Walk the final stretch lest someone notice his glasses, your hair through the windscreen.

On campus you watch him up there on his stage, a burn in your chest, and see how he seeks you out in the after. How he props you above him and returns your gaze finally. Curls his body around yours and repents for every time he had to look away.

It's warm and it’s kind and it’s trading books with scribbled notes in the margins.

It’s rain smacking against the windows as you read, his scruffy chin nesting in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, two sets of eyes staring at the same words.

It’s nodding off in his bed where the sheets have started to smell like your perfume, eyelids heavy as you wait for him to get home. It’s wearing only his clothes and being woken up by his face between your thighs, pupils blown and lips slick.  

It’s finding each other at the end of a long day and hearing him say, I thought about you all afternoon.

And this feeling of familiarity writhes between the slats of your ribs. A comfortable, quiet fondness that you see reflected in his eyes when he looks at you; that you hear when that tender mouth forms your name.

You gorge yourselves on it. Put lips to the crooks and thorns in each other’s bodies and suckle on that fondness, swallow, swallow, and watch the well never run dry.

The bleed is endless. Beneath the stain of time it floods and flurries, melting the two of you together until you start to feel certain it could never end.

Until, of course and at last, it does.

Sunday.

It’s late, you think. Somewhere in the mess where time blurs between sunset and midnight, Winter stealing hours that feel like minutes.

The curtains in his living room are drawn, low yellow light warming the room from a tall lamp in the corner. Blue spins in the on the record player, a gentle sway of sound that fills the room.

I like listening to Joni on Sundays, he’d confessed in the bathroom, bashful as he rubbed a towel over you, drying the wet ends of your hair and the slick skin of your shoulders.

He reads at the table now, strong chin cupped in his palm as his eyes flit across the pages of a textbook.

Something to do with conservation; a Minoan palace in Knossos, you think. He’d explained it earnestly, but his curls were soft and fluffy from the shower and his glasses were resting on the tip of his nose and so you’d found yourself zoning out, eyes going from round to heart shaped as you nodded along from the couch.

Every few minutes he grips his pen and jots down a note before glancing up to check on you. And whenever this happens you avert your eyes quickly, pretending to be enthralled by the half-finished essay on your screen. You have a feeling he catches you each time, because he keeps laughing softly, tutting under his breath as he goes back to reading, foot never stopping its tap-tap-tap in time with the music. The only time he gets up is to flip the record, and soon those little laughs and huffs start to mix with Joni’s bell-like voice, and the opening lyrics to California swell through the room as you type at a glacial pace.   

She sings, I met a redneck on a Grecian isle, and you glance up again, eyes turning wide and doe-like when you find Joel already watching you. He gave me back my smile, Joni sings. But he kept my camera to sell.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” Liar. “Great, even.” Bad liar.

Joel’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, lips twitching in a clear attempt to smother a laugh, but he just nods, looking back down at his book.

He’s wearing home clothes. That’s what he called them. Home clothes.

When he’d said it, still pulling them on, you’d wanted nothing more than to grip his hands and stop him in his tracks, but you’d sequestered yourself to the other side of the room instead, sorely committed to the study evening he’d suggested. But he’s in soft grey sweatpants and an even softer looking white t-shirt, and every time he sips his coffee he hums happily against the rim of his mug, and his bare foot goes tap-tap-tap and Joni sings Oh, will you take me as I am?, and—

“Come here.”

You blink. His eyebrows raise expectantly, lips split into a broad smile now.

“Unless you’d rather stay over there and keep starin’.”

You reach him as The Last Time I saw Richard, the final track on side two, begins to spin.

Joni sings, all romantics meet the same fate, and Joel’s knees fall apart, thighs splayed so handsomely across his chair, inviting you to take a seat. You ignore the woeful lyrics and focus instead on the knowing smirk on his face, taking a step forward, and another, until you’re stood between his open legs.

He doesn’t touch you. Just smiles, all saccharine and easy, leaning back in his chair.

“Much left to do?” He points at the laptop in your hands.

“Maybe another hundred words,” you grumble and put it down on the table. “Today, at least.”

Joel hums, eyes flicking down. His gaze skirts across the bare skin of your legs, the soft sleep shorts you’re wearing; ones he puts on you himself, and knows you don’t have anything beneath.

“Come here.” He pats his thigh; stops you with a soft tut when you try to straddle him. “Naw, baby, like this.”

Soft hands tilt your hips, turn you until your back is to his chest and he’s drawing you onto his lap.

“Oh.” You smile, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

Nose turned into the side of his face, you brush a kiss to the edge of his jaw and sigh in relief as he wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes.

The space between his chest and the table is a little tight; small enough that if you were to lean forward a few inches your ribs would knock against the wood.

As if he’s thinking the same thing, Joel leans forward. Presses you against the table, one hand coming up to hold your face. His fingers are soft on your skin, offering small amounts of pressure as he grips your jaw and encourages you to look forward.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up a little, skin prickling at the shift in his tone. Still soft, still quiet, yet with something… demanding, shifting just below the surface.

“You,” you say, cringing at the way your voice takes on a higher quality all of a sudden. Steeling yourself, you add, “You’re distracting me.”

“Wasn’t doing anythin’,” he responds simply. “Just sittin’ over here, minding my business while you burn holes in my head.” 

“You know what you’re doing.”

“I cooked dinner.” He squeezes you again. “Fed you. We showered, and now I’m readin’.”

“You were humming.”

Joel kisses the shell of your ear.

“And tapping.”

He flutters his fingers against your hip.

“S’that such a crime?” he murmurs.

“No, but…” You sigh when his tongue snakes out, tracing the soft curve of your earlobe. “But it…”

“But but but,” Joel mocks, and you can feel his sick smirk against your neck, teeth teasing along your carotid now. “But all you can think about is my cock, ain’t that right?”

Your stomach falls away. Everything firm inside you turns to goo as he laughs, knowing he’s right.

“So needy,” he taunts you, holding your hip tighter as his length begins to thicken against your ass. “Had all day to ask for it.”

You don’t respond, tongue tied and more uninterested in your essay than ever.

“Just lookin’ for a distraction now,” he teases lightly. “The more you put it off, the harder it’ll be to get it done, baby.”

“I know.”

“If you know.” He hooks a finger over the waistband of your shorts. “Then finish it.”

“S’not that simple,” you whine, rolling your hips over his lap. A sharp puff of air warms the back of your neck, so you do it again. His hand tightens around your jaw.

“Just a hundred words, right?” he coaxes gruffly. “Come on now, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You feel his thick cock beneath his sweats, stiff and pressing between the crease of your thighs, melting what’s left of your resolve. You want to grind down against it. To pull your soft sleep shorts to the side and let him sink inside with no more pretence. But you put your hands on the desk, eyes on the screen, and Joel slides his warm palms beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Floats them over the curve of your stomach, the soft flesh around your ribs, waking thousands of tiny hairs that cover your skin until his fingers meet your chest, and he cups your breasts.

You shiver, lids growing heavy as he squeezes and tickles at your skin. Your nipples harden to peaks against his rough palms, and he sighs at the feeling, face resting against the back of your neck as he plays.

“Fuck,” you sigh, voice a broken buzz in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I thought you wanted me to write.”

“I do,” Joel murmurs unconvincingly. “A hundred words, go on.”

Hands like lead on the table, it feels like an impossible task. Even more than it did ten minutes ago. You force yourself to lift your fingers to the keyboard, vision sharpening as you look for where you left off. You try to shut him out, try to ignore the way his tongue warms the skin on your neck, the way the hairs on his thighs tickle against yours, and begin to write.

But he doesn’t make it easy.

The second you finish the first sentence one of his hands drifts down your stomach to cup your pussy over your shorts. You flinch, heart galloping in your chest when he sighs in your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, pleading already. “I can’t if you…”

“You can,” he soothes. The warmth of his palm is suffocating, so hot against where you’re already wet and wanting. Thick fingers press against the fabric, nudging it between your slick folds until it goes damp. “Just ignore me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” you reply. You type five more words, chest rattling with heavy breaths as he paws at you, thumbing at your clit through your shorts.

His breath is hot and heavy against your neck and his soft curls tickle your skin as you try to focus.

“Ignore me,” he repeats, and you squeak as he tilts you forward. A rush of breath spills from your mouth, chest flush to the desk, ass suspended above his lap as he shifts behind you. And when he pulls you back down, you sigh pathetically over the fact that he’s pushed his sweats down.

The full weight of his length presses against you, nestled between the rounded flesh of your ass, and you manage to mumble his name.

“Just—” You’re panting now; considering begging. “—I can do this later. I will finish it later, I swear, just—”

Joel nudges your shorts to the side and presses a finger between your folds. A ragged gasp stutters out of you, finger jammed against the keyboard. A steady stream of kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk fills a line of the document as he smears your wetness up to your clit.

“Fuck,” you mumble, hips tilting forward, trying to chase the feeling.

“None of that,” he tuts quickly, other hand slipping down and pinching the skin at the inside of your thigh. You’ve only backspaced half of the k’s when he slips two fingers inside you. “Come on, now.”

Thirty words fly as he crooks his fingers inside you. Slow and gentle, thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit as he works you open.

“That’s it,” he coos, pressing a third finger inside. Your cunt sucks desperately at his fingers, the skin of your face warming as you catch a glimpse of your reflection on the laptop screen. Jaw hanging low, a silent prayer for relief written across the open slant of your mouth. “My smart girl. Knew they didn’t give you that degree for nothin’.”

You gasp and swat at his wrist, but a satisfied little smile cracks your face for a moment when he laughs. Only for it to fall seconds later when he lays a sharp bite to the back of your shoulder. You moan, voice cracking around his name, rutting desperately against his hand.

“You can do it,” he flatters you, sickly sweet and entirely convincing as he strokes at your insides. Curling and stretching until you’re turning to a wet trembling mess in his lap, wobbling through half-assed sentences that you aren’t sure even match up with your essay outline anymore.

“Good,” Joel murmurs. “That’s good.”

“Don’t look,” you slur out, heart pounding at the idea of him reading anything you’ve written in this state. “It’s f-for your class, you can’t look.”

“Not lookin’.” He noses at the back of your ear. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Just lookin’ at you, m’always just lookin’ at you.”

“I’ll finish it.” You switch up your tactic now. Voice low and breathy, the back of your head resting heavy on his shoulder, eyes longing to close. “Tomorrow, I’ll write it—”

“Tomorrow?” His thumb drags harder on your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp, stomach tensing. You feel a bit floaty all of a sudden. Locked out of your own mind, all thoughts spilling from between your thighs as desire grips you, consumes you. “Please, just…”

“What, baby?” he prompts. “Say it.”

“Just let me sit on your cock,” you groan. “Please, I can’t think right now, I’ll finish it, I promise.”

“You fuckin’ promise—Christ,” he grumbles, fingers drifting from your tight clutch. “Just a little more, baby, for me.”

You don’t even really know how it happens after that. Ears roaring, skin tight, everything is a blur as you write and write and write and he presses his leaking tip between your folds works you down onto his length. Hands everywhere, so warm, so rough, holding your thighs, your waist, your breasts, your shorts to the side. Slower when your gasps spin higher, you think, always knowing when to ease up, when the burn gets too much too quick.

Joel grips your thighs, prying them apart until your calves are on the outside of his, and then he’s shifting his legs open wide, giving your own no choice but to follow. You feel the full weight of him in this position. The long, thick stretch of his cock inside you as your legs dangle listlessly over his lap, toes straining and failing to reach the floor. You can do nothing but rest heavily across his thighs, those hands still everywhere all at once, and whine pitifully as your walls spasm and clench around him, coil inside pulling tighter and tighter.

Vision waning, the text on your screen warbles as Joel slips the pad of his finger against your clit and begins to play with it. Soft little rubs that have you going tense and leaning forward on the table, braced on your elbows and grinding down into his lap, desperate for release, for movement, anything. It feels like your brain is splintering into a thousand tiny pieces inside your skull.

“You’re so wet,” Joel rasps, forehead heavy against your shoulder blade as he groans. “Pretty pussy’s drippin’ all over me, honey. You really need it that bad?” 

You say something you think, mouth moving and eyes rolling as his hips shift up in a weak little thrust. Just one.

“Keep goin’.” He sounds pained, half-drunk as the words stumble out of him.

Your mind slips further from your grasp and you’re typing pure gibberish. Slurring messes of letters cloaked in perfect punctuation. Your fingers fly across the keys, painting commas and full stops and semi colons around complete and utter bullshit as your cunt flutters and your belly stirs.

His finger glides and his cock pulses and your vision darkens and you come. Shoulders hunched, table digging into your forearms, you fold forward and cry out as an agonisingly brief orgasm rips through you.

It’s over before it’s even begun, but Joel groans and offers a shallow thrust, your cry turning to a gasp as he grips your thigh for dear life.

“Oh good girl,” he murmurs, fingers slowing against your nerves, not wanting to overwhelm. “Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now. Liquid frustration that pools against your waterline and threatens to spill when he still doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.

“How much left?” he asks roughly, rocking his hips against yours in a steady pace now. Gentle, rolling movements that snag on the heels of your orgasm and hold it close.

“Huh?”  

“How many words?”

“I don’t…” Your eyelids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he laughs a little then, rueful but not unkind. “That’s gonna be hell to edit.”

With a furious groan you slam the laptop closed, the sharp smack of metal on metal filling your ears as he grips your hips and really starts to fuck you.

It’s not fast though, not rough. Just deep, lingering strokes that grind against the end of you and nudge you stumbling toward the edge. He pinches your clit between the tips of his middle and ring fingers, rubbing slow drags up and down against the hood like that. Moaning and sweating, you slip your hand over his. Press lower and let your fingers glide around his girth, thick and vascular between your thighs, hot skin wetter every time he pulls out of you.

“Feel that?” Joel pants, teeth nipping at the top of your spine. “You’re creamin’ for me, baby. Fuck, I—I need to taste it.”

“Shit—oh god.”

He grips your wrist and drags it up, chin harsh against your shoulder as he sucks your fingers into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is filthy as his hot tongue snakes out to lick the webbing between your fingers, and you tip your head to watch his eyes roll back. His thighs tremble beneath you, but you can’t be sure it’s not just the vibrations of your own body tricking you.

But no, it’s him. His hips stutter against yours, deep plunges stilting into shallow movements, and he stalls deep inside your cunt for a second on the end of every thrust, as if his brain is short-circuiting.

You hook your fingers in his mouth, the tips digging into the gums behind his teeth, and tug him back to reality. He nips at your fingers and moans, hand falling heavy between your thighs again. And he doesn’t stop now; keeps pushing and pinching and fucking and grinding until your pussy is pulling tight and slick around his length and your fingers are fanned loose and shaky across his face, and you can hardly breathe except to say Joel or please or oh my god.

“Can feel it,” he grunts breathlessly, skin smacking against yours in a sharp staccato beat. “Deep breath, baby, c’mon, let me have it.”

“Your teeth,” you gasp feverishly. “Bite me again.” 

“Fuck,” he snarls and then he’s grating the hard line of his incisors along your shoulder.

The sweet pinch of his canines digging into your back sets your cunt aflutter around him, mouth hung open in silent ecstasy as he fucks you full of his seed and you suck it in deep, tight with longing, still panting and high when it begins to drip from where you’re connected, spooling around his cock and smearing between your thighs and his.

His chest heaves against your back. Chest hair damp wet sweat, dripping through your thin shirt until it can’t decide whether to cling to his skin or yours. There’s an ache at the base of your spine, maybe a muscle pulled, and his thumb presses into the flesh there as if he can sense it.

Sounds come back slowly. Joni’s finished and the needle tracks around the runout groove on the record, a little crackle flaring every few seconds where the two channels join. Joel’s breathing too, rough against your shoulder, harmonising with the wet sound of his lips peeling from your skin.

You tilt your head to the side.

Wild eyed, cunt-struck, Joel knocks his nose against yours. Groans low when you flick your tongue out to graze across his bottom lip. He’s bitten it rough and ragged and red, and you want to soothe the sting. His glasses are on top of his head, smudged lenses tucked amidst wild fluffy curls.

You try to kiss him, hard and wet, but he stops you with a hand to your jaw. Cradles your face and strokes your cheekbone and wipes the spittle from your lips before kissing you lightly. Chaste and gentle, like the two of you are ten and have never kissed anyone before, have never been brave enough to use your tongues.

That invisible bleed in your chest drips heavier. You picture a thick spurt of red against your chest cavity as he kisses the corners of your mouth, the tip of your nose, your eyelids.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling when his lips catch and drag across your skin with the movement of your head.

A moment passes like this. Searching kisses dotted over your smiling face. The swell of your cheeks, the ends of your eyebrows.

“Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real,” Joel confesses. A bare bones whisper that tickles the skin between your eyebrows, where his lips rest now. “Like you might just melt away if I don’t hold on tight enough. Disappear if I look away too long, and I’ll be stuck tryna convince myself that you were ever really here.”

Twisted up in his arms, you can feel the way his heart batters against his chest, thrashing through to vibrate against your back. He might as well be plucking the admission straight from your own mouth.

“I’m real,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m here, it’s real.”

“Me too,” he says. Something wet tickles your skin, but it’s gone in a second. Rubbed over by his thumb, soothed with another kiss.

I love you, you think, but when you speak it comes out as, “No melting.”

Joel laughs softly. Kisses you again. “No melting.”

Thursday.

“It was too much.”

“It was fine.”

“I said the word grateful three times.”

“Four, actually.” You chew the inside of your cheek and shrug apologetically. “I counted.”

“Jesus,” Joel sighs, reaching up to a drag a hand over his face.

He’s pulled his desk chair all the way across the office. Tie loosened and top buttons undone, he slumps in it a little. His thick knees almost brush against yours where you sit in his armchair.

“Hey, I liked it,” you smile, bumping his knee. “It was nice - shows you care.”

“Well, you ain’t all that hard to please,” Joel smarts, lip quirking up into a sly grin.

Mouth open in a scoff, you feign offence, dragging your laptop from your satchel and making a show of ignoring him.

“How the mighty fall,” he continues, sighing dramatically and tilting his head over the back of the chair. The light coming in through the window hits his face just right, and the grey hairs in his curls shine. “Grateful to have been your professor… asshole.”

“Don’t be precious,” you laugh softly. “You’re just embarrassed because you said you were going to miss us.”

“That was a lie,” Joel tuts, brushing you off with a hand in the air, biting back that grin. “I ain’t gon’ miss any of you assholes. And when those final papers come in—” He taps a finger against the top of your laptop “—I’ll be sayin’ my prayers that any of you can string a worthwhile sentence together.”

“If you’re lucky,” you drawl, batting his hand away. “You’ll teach some of us again next year. And when that semester finishes, you’ll say all of that shit again, because you’re a sap, Joel Miller.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, face softening, and then clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Smart ass.”

“And you love it,” you quip easily, only balking a moment later when the word hangs awkwardly in the air. Hands pausing on your keyboard, you glance up, neck hot, only to find Joel watching you still. Face suspended in a small smile; eyes light as he nods.

“I do,” he says after a moment. “But you’re on thin ice, wise guy.”

He plucks a book from his desk and spreads it open on his lap, either not noticing or simply not caring as you watch on, slack jawed. I do.

After a moment, Joel taps his foot against yours again. “Write.”

So, sucking in a breath, you do. Time passes and rain starts to drizzle against the window as you write, and Joel reads. Having forgotten to put a record on like normal, he hums lightly under his breath; some tune you can’t place but still nod along to. Every few minutes he turns his page, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate the way he holds books. Hate the way he cradles the spines, thumb hooked around the footnotes to hold his page. Hate the way his fingers trace the stanzas as he reads, tender and patient, and always afraid to miss something. Hate most the way the tendons on the backs of his hands flex when he turns the page. How the veins around them go fat and blue the longer he does this, as if all the blood in his body is sprinting towards the words. It’s a dangerous sort of eroticism, watching him read. You hate how much you love it.

In need of reprieve, you focus on your own hands. Crack tired knuckles and stretch out cramps and aches, taking a moment to peer over at his desk. The picture frame you’d once been so curious about is propped on the edge of it once again.

You can see Joel behind the glass panel, sporting a shit-eating grin with Sarah, clad in a graduation gown, tucked proudly against his chest. Taken the day she finished high school, you know now. And you’d never noticed it that first time, months ago, but Ellie’s face rests in the corner of the picture. Pink tongue stuck out and eyes pinched shut; she’d snuck her head into the frame at the last second apparently.

You gaze fondly at it, and feel that familiar warmth in your chest over the fact that he’s put it back out. No more hiding.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Joel glances over his shoulder, and then smiles.

“It’s a good photo,” you say. “You look so happy there.”

“I was. It’s one of my favourites,” he nods, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He seems to consider you for a moment, eyes flicking around your face, fingers fidgeting with the corner of his page. “Hey, I uh… Sarah actually called yesterday.”

He pauses. Takes an unusually deep breath and folds the book shut.

“Okay.” You blink, confused. “Is she alright?” 

“Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, she was uh, she was askin’ about the holidays, and if—”

The office door creaks open, and Joel’s mouth seals shut as Rachel walks hastily inside, rushed words filling the small room.  

“Joel, sorry, I need to grab—oh.”

There’s an odd pause after the words catch in her throat. A moment of uncomfortable stillness as the three of you inhale all at once, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

You and Joel aren’t touching, but your knees rest close, one of his feet in the space between yours on the carpet. Laptop propped on your knees, your final essay still lays open with a stream of edits pasted through the margins, cursor blinking at the end of the word nostos.

Joel, tie undone and sleeves rolled up, looks painfully casual in your presence.

“Sorry.” Rachel blinks, hovering awkwardly as the door clicks shut behind her. “I didn’t realise you had a… a meeting today?” The end of her sentence flares up, as if she’s confused, phrasing it like a dubious little question.

You offer a smile in her direction and hope it comes across as relaxed, a little encroaching even; as if you are the one who has interrupted; the one who should not be here.

“It’s fine,” Joel supplies easily, straightening in his chair to give her his full attention. His face gives nothing away. Stoic and calm, the way you’d imagine him to be if you weren’t here at all. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says, frowning like she’s affronted by the question. Looks between the two of you again, listless fingers curling at her sides. “Just came to get that Livy copy back

You look back at your screen and will yourself to type something. To appear casual, studious, as if your heart isn’t lodged in the base of your throat.

“Sure,” he nods, gesturing vaguely toward his desk. “It’s in one of the drawers on the left.”

Rachel nods, walking over to the desk, and as her back turns you spare a glance at Joel. Find him already looking at you, eyebrows pulled down a little. Pink lips mouth It’s fine, married with a soft nod of his head, and for the second time in seconds you attempt a smile. 

There’s the sound of wood sliding against wood, and then a soft, tired kind of silence. The lack of sound seems to swell, the air in the room thinning, your eyes focusing on Joel’s fingers on the armrest of his chair, tap tap tap, Rachel’s unruly curls somewhere past that, her face downturned, looking at something. Wary breaths held in unison, synced heart beats racing. It’s fine, it’s fine, no melting.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Your head snaps up. Joel turns in his chair and begins to ask what’s wrong, but all that ends up coming from him is a sort of choked noise, rough around the edges, and breathless in the middle. Chest on fire, you let yourself look past him to where she stands.

Her gaze is hard as she stares Joel down from across the room. A slip of blue; soft material visible between her fingers, held up for a stunned chorus to see.

Your hearing deafens a little as you look on, motionless, a vague memory of birthday boy and got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock? playing in your mind. Of a damp patch on his shirt as he tucked blue into his desk drawer.

Joel says Rachel’s name, you think. Can see the way his jaw moves, the way her dark eyes sharpen, flitting back and forth between the two of you. And then, like a volcanic eruption or the swell beneath a wave, realisation crests the hill and It’s fine cracks and crumbles and turns to dust in your grasp. You don’t know what she knows, or how she knows, you just know that she does.

“You… what is this?” Rachel’s face shifts into something uncomfortable. A warped, grotesque shot at a smile. But as her lips curl upward, eyebrows down, it’s nothing but a contorted mess that blurs endlessly between confusion, surprise, and then horror. “This… her? She’s the reason you—”

“Rachel.” Joel’s entire body is wound tight. You can see the edge of his jaw from where you sit; the way his shoulders pull back, tight he watches her.

Your body seems to hold itself together for a moment. Breath caught on an inhale, lungs expanded, eyes frozen on the hard line of his nose, the arm of his glasses—places you feel safe to hover. But then she speaks again, and everything lurches back into focus. Like a needle scratching on a record, or tires squealing as a car pulls to an abrupt stop at a red—the words make you cringe, chest deflating and face crumpling.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she’s saying, and her voice raises, louder to match the disbelief in her tone. “You… she’s a fucking student.”

When the fear hits it doesn’t come slowly. It strikes hard and solid; an icy sheet of dread that sucks at your fingers and numbs your extremities. Cool and abrupt, it sinks to your bones and promises that you’ll never again feel anything but this. It laughs in the face of your warm kind month, pressing its chilled ice picks to the back of your eyes until they burn.

Her words hang heavy in the air, thick weights that press down on three sets of shoulders, and you have never wanted anything the way you want to see Joel’s face right now. To look at him and believe that this isn’t as bad as you know it to be. See that mouth tell you it’s fine and remember how it tastes.

Instead, a fear-stricken Orpheus, you will yourself not to look at him. Despite that longing, the way your arms beg to stretch out, to hold and be held, you do not look. No, you don’t think you could suffer the double death of both knowing this is happening and seeing him know it too.

In his place, you let your eyes turn to Rachel, and find that she already stares at you, small mouth cracked ajar in incredulity.

Mind whirring, racing, stumbling; fumbling to pin back together the pieces of who you once were in her eyes and who you are now. This woman you admire so, whose career path you’ve dreamt of, whose wit and quirk has propelled you, invigorated you.

It’s agonising to watch—the way her face morphs into something so unfamiliar as she looks at you now. An expression that once held only admiration, kindness, marred here by an inexplicable sense of pity. Not hate, or contempt, which perhaps would be easier to handle. Easier than the way those dark orbs go round and solemn with worry as they fall upon your anguished frame. It’s a slap in the face; camaraderie washed down the drain like the dregs of a long overdue bath, as she grips your soiled underwear in her fist.

Joel says her name, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s said it now, and she spurns his attempt at placation like a snake. Fast and deadly, venom dribbling from her tongue. 

“Someone else?” she says, and her voice is like never before. Mirthless and cold, fury laced through every word. With a sharp jerk of her elbow, she tosses the underwear across the room. They land against Joel’s chest, caught silently in his fist. “You’re fucking sick.”

“This isn’t what you think it is—” Joel starts, and you think you hear his voice shake.

“It isn’t?” She laughs cruelly at that. “You haven’t been sleeping with one of our students?”

The cursor blinks on your screen. Nostos, nostos, nostos, nostos.

“Listen, can we talk about this somewhere else?” he asks. “Not like this, I—”

“Oh, is this not a convenient time for you?” she scowls. “Jesus Christ.”   

The urge to speak bubbles in your chest. You don’t even know what you’re going to say until the words are spilling from your lips, disjointed and warbled, a voice that doesn’t even sound like your own.

“I pursued him,” you say.

You can feel them looking at you. Can hear the way you must sound to her, like some kid and not a woman who’s almost thirty years old and just as much to blame. But you can’t stop it.  

“We’re both adults. He never made me do anything I didn’t—”

Joel says your name sharply. His fist, in the periphery of your downturned gaze, grips your balled up underwear so tight that the blue is entirely invisible within the thick masts of his fingers.

You suck in a breath, and it feels like the last bit of air in the room disappears into your lungs, so you hold it there. Keep it safe inside and figure that if all three of you were to suffocate then at least the truth, and all the foul consequences that come with it, would die here with you.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Silence falls in the lull after those words, and it takes a moment for you to look up, finally. To realise that the double death wasn’t in looking at Joel, but in understanding that he’d spoken these words to you, not her.

Eyes locked with his, you feel the fear move to your side. Hang low until it ebbs and flows in the space beneath your ribs—a sharp ache with no end in sight. He looks tired; resigned. Mouth thin and downturned, cheeks splashed with red.

You think you must say something. Some fumbling, awkward acknowledgement, because Rachel is giving you that look again and you can’t bear it. Can’t stand those eyes, that misplaced pity.

You collect your things, hands numb as you pile them into your bag and head for the door, skin prickling in defence against the silence that follows your movements.

Outside his office, alone in the long corridor, you know you should go. Should follow the wall down the stairs, out to your car, and not look back. Can you give us a minute? But that sharp ache leaves you cowering against the wall, limbs heavy, ear to his door. 

“Rach,” Joel says softly, and it’s so familiar that your stomach rolls, lids fluttering closed. “It isn’t what you think, just let me explain, alright? We met before the term began; before she was my student. Before.”

“And then?”

“What?”

“I said, and then?” Rachel’s voice is steely. “You met her before and, what, you saw her in class and decided it was fine to let it continue? You—”

“Everything was consensual. You know me, I would never—”

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it. Did you not think about what would happen if you were found out? Her credibility will be destroyed, Joel.”

“I know—”

“I mean for fucksake, her first major presentation was given at a conference where you were the keynote speaker. How do you think this will look?”

“Fuck, I know. Can you keep your voice down, please.”

There’s a brief silence. You hear shuffling, feet against carpet, and a dull spike of fear flares in the back of your mind. The idea of getting caught a second time, eavesdropping from outside the door. Against better judgement, you don’t move, and Rachel speaks again.

“You’re wrong,” she says. “I don’t know you. I… you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

You don’t hear Joel’s response over the drumming in your ears. Hot blood thrashes and roars inside your body, veins pounding with terror. Hands shake damp and weary at your sides, thinking hard, hard, grasping for solution, for the chance to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is my fault.

But he must have said something because then you hear it. A low fragment of a human voice, words spoken clear as day. They slice through your ears and have you peeling away from the door, swallowed by a white-hot longing to disappear as you stumble down the hall, the stairs, until you’re sucking in cold air on the pavement outside.  

It’s raining hard now. Thin spray that comes at you sideways, lashing at your face and blinding you. You curl your back to the downpour and search thoughtlessly for your car, hands outstretched, those words of hers ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

When you find it, you press your key into the door and slump inside, and you still can’t avoid it. She might as well be standing right by the door, peering in at you. Shock in the jut of her brow, disappointment in the slant of her mouth as she whispers those words over and over through the crack in your window.

"I don’t care if you love her, Joel. I have to report you.”

refs:

joni mitchell's 1971 Blue album. [life changer]

the hollow men by t. s. elliot [fat juicy banger of a poem]

orpheus and eurydice from metamorphoses by ovid, tr. by a. d. melville

thank you for reading x

[fanaticsnail]

Hi Snail!! It's been a little while, I hope you and the family are doing well! I thought I'd pop in with so self-indulgent birthday thoughts I've had throughout the day.

1. Mihawk with a happy trail. (No other thoughts, but pretty man I'd desire to bite all over.)

2. Baking a birthday cake with Sanji! initially, he was going to have it be a surprise, but after catching him, we both worked on it together. (More platonic leaning vibes, he'd be such a nice friendo)

3. Shanks accidentally starting a citywide party in celebration of my birthday (he gets excited at the thought of a party), but ends up leading me off to just spend time alone on some isolated hilltop. It's a very peaceful evening shared between us.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WRENNYX!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Please have a mini fic on your special day for the broody swordsman 🖤. I'm sorry I didn't write more, my love!

Happy Trail

Masterlist Here

Word Count: mini fic

Synopsis: Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

Themes: Mihawk x f!reader, established relationship, suggestive content, Mihawk is unkept, husband x wife, domesticity.

Mihawk, arching his brow as perplexion dawns on his face as you lower yourself to the ground beside his thighs. Leaning back on the chair, unlacing his knee from its position atop the other, he raises his wineglass to his lips. Eyes never leaving yours, he watches as you eagerly crawl between his knees and place your hands splayed atop both of his muscular and lanky legs.

"My dear," he utters when releasing the lip of the wine glass from his open mouth, tongue darting out to collect the spillover from his bottom lip, "Just what do you think you are doing?"

You hum gently, moving your thumbs on soothing circles to the apex of his lowered hemline. Adonis belt on full view, you gently caress your digits over the short patch of silky, dark locks and shudder in delight at the sensation.

"You're not as groomed as you usually keep yourself, my darling," you note, gently flicking over the follicles, "I am not complaining."

Mihawk shuddered away from your touch, the ministrations tickling at his abdomen causing a slight twitch to his lips and a smile reserved only for you in its wake.

"Oh, really?" he feigned indifference, his body reacting against his will as he leaned into your touch, "You are not complaining?"

Reaching forward, he placed the wine glass down on the table in front of him, all the while holding your eyes with his honey-hued orbs. Leaning down, he collected your chin within his right hand and rose you to stand. As you rose to your feet, he gently guided your right hip with his left hand and urged you forward to straddle his waist.

"You're telling me," he gently hooked your hair over your ear and caressed your jawline gently, "You, my beautiful wife," he pressed his lips to your cheek, "Enjoy having a partially scruffy husband?"

Mihawk smiled against your cheek, pressing a further three kisses slowly against your cheek towards your neck. His moustache and beard tickled your face, prompting you to curl in to his soft touch.

"Careful now," he whispered, his lips finally catching that place on your neck below your earlobe that had a soft gasp fled your lips, "I might think you prefer me a little untamed, beloved."

"Mihawk," you gasped, your chest rising with the bloom of need in your chest and stomach. He chuckled against your neck, gently clamping his teeth down on your pulse and soothing it with his tongue.

"Upstairs, dear," he chuckled against your skin, his wandering hands gently caressing your knuckles as you continued to toy with his treasure trove of dark curls, "Let me show you just how wild and unbridled your husband can truly be for you."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | sex shop

pairing | sex shop owner!andy barber x innocent!reader

warnings | age gap (reader sees andy as a total dilf.) reader is very innocent and also so scared to be there (understandably.) soft!andy, comforting vibes, he talks her through everything. humiliation kink is strong in this one. no real smut, just suggestive themes (sex shop, toys, talks of solo and guided masturbation.)

word count | 987

an | this little story is dedicated to andy's #1 girl, @worksby-d 🥺 dest i super hope you enjoy our favorite dilf here!! i tried to make him the big warm teddy bear we know and love, with a little hint of naughtiness shining through at the end hehe <3 happy holidays to you friend!!

imagine going to a sex shop for the very first time, aalllll by yourself, and meeting a very handsome dilf who helps you pick out your very first big girl toy 😏

parking as far away as possible (it’s at the end of a little strip mall in a tiny little town you’ve never been to before, you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone you knew!) spending like 10 minutes just sitting in your car hyping yourself up, you’re so nervous but you’ve wanted to do this for so long 🥺

eventually you build up your courage and make your way up the parking lot, to the front door of the place. a little silvery bell rings as you enter. you’re surprised at how clean and neat the place is. you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is better than you had been hoping. it’s not too big, a single large room with a counter in the middle. at first glance, you're alone, no other customers or employees in sight

the store has different sections with hanging signs directing you where to go. you can feel heat rising in your cheeks as you pass the racks of lingerie and intimates. just as you make it over to the toys for her section, you hear something from across the little shop. looking over, you see someone has entered through a doorway in the back. a man, but you don’t get too long of a look. your eyes quickly drop to the ground as you feel your embarrassment worsening

please don’t come over here. please don’t come over here. please don’t-

your silent prayers are ignored as footsteps approach. you take a step back from the wall of products, forcing yourself to look up at the stranger. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him, oh god, you’re thinking to yourself, why is he hot 😭

there andy stands in all of his glory, the epitome of dilfy deliciousness with his worn navy t-shirt and scruffy beard. scratching his head a bit awkwardly, he greets you, “hey, sorry. didn’t meant to startle you. can i help you find anything?”

your heart’s pounding in your throat as you look around stupidly before your eyes return to the absolute unit of a man before you. you blink like a deer in the headlights. oh my god. he works here, you’re a little slow to put things together

andy sees your surprise, letting out a gentle chuckle. “i’m the owner,” he explains. “you okay, honey? you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

a part of you knows this is an extremely sketchy situation. you’re alone in a sex shop with a dude probably twice your age (who apparently owns the place), out in a town you can’t remember the name of, with nothing to defend yourself except your two bare hands (which are now shaking)

but there’s something about the man before you that you just find so… warm? disarming? (…attractive? 😳) the gentle smile on his face, the way he softens his voice when he senses your nervousness...

you’re a little ball of conflicting feelings, half nerves and half head-over-heels for this unknown man. again, you blink, unable to find your voice to respond

“you’re alright, just take it easy,” he tries to help you relax. “this your first time in a place like this?” all you can manage is a nod. he gives you an understanding smile, “that’s perfectly fine. i’m here to help. can you tell me what you’re looking for, sweetheart?”

your eyes glance quickly back at the wall of toys in front of you before returning to him. he must see the increasing humiliation on your face. “u-um…” you’re finally able to stutter, “i-i don’t… i’m not… i guess i'm…”

he’s so patient and attentive it’s only making the butterflies in your tummy worse 😭 “not sure where to start?” he finishes for you. when you nod, he hums thoughtfully, “that’s okay, honey. do you have anything already that you like? is this for you to use on your own?"

you grit your teeth, nodding through the waves of embarrassment. “d-don’t have anything, sir. looking for something to start out with”

“i see,” he nods, looking over the selection on the wall before the two of you. “a bullet is a great beginner toy. simple, quiet, different levels of intensity to fit your needs. do you like clitoral stimulation?”

you have to fight yourself to keep from rubbing your thighs together right then and there 😩 something about the way he’s talking you through everything is sooo 🥲🥲 a feeling of dread hits as you realize you’re already getting wet

you force out a nod. he looks at a few options before picking out a small, discreet box. offering it to you, he explains, “this one’s my favorite. it’s nice and smooth, hard to hurt yourself with. rechargeable, medical-grade silicon. six levels of intensity. and the pink matches your nails,” he says sweetly, nodding at the shiny polish on the tips of your fingers

you clumsily accept the box, looking it over briefly. “there are instructions on the inside. the internet can be helpful too,” he suggests. the burning in your tummy worsens as he sees right through you, sniffing your complete innocence and inexperience with ease

“o-okay. this looks good. thank you,” you agree

“of course,” he nods with a sheepish smile. “once you get comfortable with that, we can work you up to something more sophisticated” you never implied that you’d be returning to him, but now that he’s said it, you know you couldn’t refuse. “and if you have any trouble, you can always come see me. i got a room in the back, we can take some time and find what works for you”

i might have to write that follow-up visit someday this is making me 🫠🫠

[lunajay33]

Just a Taste🖤

•🕷️💋•

Summary: Reader knew lusting after him was wrong, him being her gym teacher and all but when she comes across him again when the world ends she can’t resist

Pairing: Negan Smith x f!reader

Warning: Age Gap, 18+

•Masterlist•

I know it’s wrong but god I want him so badly, sure he’s my gym teacher but a girl knows how to appreciate an attractive man, the way he’d smirk when I’d sass him back or the way he’d help me with warm up stretches, pushing his body so close to mine I’ve become addicted to his cologne , but what could I do he’s my gym teacher, sure I’m 18 but a girl can dream

The day of my graduation I finally found the courage to approach Negan, walking right up to him behind the bleachers as it was an outside celebration, a cigarette lit as he huffed out a cloud of smoke, I never was one for the smell but being around him I couldn’t get enough now

“Hey angel, shouldn’t you be celebrating with the others?” He smirked as I stood next to him

“Hmmm I’d rather be here with you Mr.Smith” I said batting my lashes seeing his smirk widen making my knees weak

“Is that so baby girl? I’m sure you don’t wanna waste your time with an old man like me, what the guys your age don’t satisfy ya?” He asks as he blows smoke in my face

“Mmm no one makes me feel the things you do”

“Holy shit darling you’re one hell of a minx, never seen this side of ya before but god is it refreshing” I took the cigarette from his hand taking a slow drag feeling the smoke envelope my lungs

“Maybe you deserve a little graduation gift don’t you think Angel?” His lips mere inches from mine as he sucked in the smoke I breathed out

“I think I do, I’ve been so good” right as our lips were about to touch screams and chaos erupted all around us

Pulling apart I notice blood all around people ripping the flesh of my fellow classmates and some people that were still lingering around from the graduation, I felt a tight grip around my waist pushing me in the opposite direction of all this mayhem

“What is happening Mr.Smith?” I asked running with him right next to me

“Don’t know sweetheart but we gotta get the hell outta here”

We got close to his truck when a group of walkers got in our way splitting us up, having to run in separate directions, I tried getting back to him but neither of us could risk it with the amount of chompers around

“STAY ALIVE! ILL FIND YA SUNSHINE” he screamed as we got pushed further and further apart

I ran and just kept running until I got back home, my family was gone they didn’t even wait for me, the realization dawned on me that I had to do this alone, so I gathered a bag and filled it with clothes, the food that was left over in the pantry and getting anything that could be used as a weapon in the garage

I changed into some more appropriate clothes for this crazy situation that this town has found itself in god knows where else

“Okay you’ve got this, all you’ve got to do is survive just survive somehow” I tried encouraging myself as I slung my bag over my back and drove off out of town having no clue where I was heading

Gas ran out quick leaving me to wonder on foot through the Georgia woods thinking it would be safer than the roads, after 2 months of wandering having to fend for myself, running scarce of food and killing and walkers that came near leaving me exhausted and covered in blood

Finally I came to a break in the trees leading to an open field with a farm house in the middle, not a walker in sight, I sighed in relief feeling like I’ve finally found a break even just for a little while, I got to the house noticing tents set up, still early in the morning the people set up here must still be sleeping

“Who the hell are ya?” I heard a gruff voice behind me, I turned frightened noticing a man with a cross bow pointed at me, he had scruffy hair and a scowl

“Oh umm I’m sorry I’ve just been walking and I came across this place I just wanted a break, I was gonna ask…..I just need rest even just for today please” he looked me up and down before lowering his bow, his expression softening

“Come on I’ll show ya around”

Thankfully that day it wasn’t a one day rest and the group embraced me as one of their own, Daryl became like an older brother teaching me how to hunt, always watching over me, Maggie always went out of her way to check up on me and she’s become like a sister, I got along with everyone else as well but Daryl and Maggie meant the most to me

When the farm fell Daryl saved me from being torn apart, the 9 months on the road after that looking for a new home they always made sure I got a bit of extra food

Finally we found the prison and we had a while of peace, sitting on the railing of the watch tower looking out over the yard when Daryl came and sat next to me

“Ya okay?”

“Yeah just thinking about stuff”

“Like what?”

“The day everything happened it was my graduation day, it felt like my life was just starting and I had my whole life ahead of me, I even had a guy I finally got the courage to confess to in a way, I was so excited and god I had wanted him for so long and just like that it was ripped away from me, I still hear the last words he said to me before we were pulled apart, he said he’d find me” I sighed feeling the weight of what could have been weighing down on me, I still think of Negan all the time, the way he’d wear a black top showing off his tattoos that always had me clenching my legs in class, how his arms would flex when he’d help me stretch, or when the smell of cigarette would come my way I remember taking his and feeling his lips brush against mine

“Don’t give up peach, he might still be out there, I’ll make sure ya have a future”

“Thanks Daryl”

When the prison fell I was lucky to escape with Tyrese and Judith and the two little girls until we came across Carol, with carols help we saved the group from the cannibals, reuniting with my new family, the we were on the road again until we got saved yet again and found a new home in Alexandria, everything was going well, Maggie was pregnant, we had a home that was safe with food, I always wanted to help the group with what ever problem arises but Maggie and Daryl kept me out of it, always saying I should stay in Alexandria and help things run smoothly

So when the group came back bloodied and empty of emotion I was confused

“What happened where Daryl? Where’s Maggie is she okay?” I asked Michonne as she seemed to be the most put together of the group

“We shouldn’t have left you in the dark, we’ve been up against another group they cornered us they….they killed Abraham and Glenn, they took Daryl, Maggie is at hilltop hiding out and getting the help she needs with the baby” my world felt like it was crashing down

“What? No this can’t be true, we need to get Daryl back”

“There’s nothing we can do”

A few days went by when that group that took some of my family away arrived in the streets and Alexandria

I ran out of the house seeing Daryl in ratty clothes standing at the gates, I looked next to him and it was him…..Negan was talking to Rick my heart started pumping fast and I gasped catching the attention of him, his smirk he had dropped as the attention of everyone around was now on us, he dropped his bat to the ground and before I knew it I was running to him jumping in his arms feeling his strong arms wrap around me and squeeze me tight

“I told you I’d find you sunshine” he stated he still smelled of cigarette and that cologne that had me want him to finally take me right here right now

He set me down back on the ground squeezing my waist as I ran my hand along his cheek

“I’ve been looking for you, ever since that day, god I’ve craved your lips, your touch, I ain’t letting you go again Angel”

“Y/n? What are you doing?” I heard Rick ask from behind me

“Oh she’s mine done Ricky, been waiting to have her, should’ve never let you go that day”

“Y/n he killed Glenn and Abraham he’s the one that imprisoned Daryl” it dawned on me that this was the leader of the group that took people away from my family

I looked over at Daryl seeing how hurt he was

“Negan can I talk to you in private please” he placed his hand on my lower back and led me away from the clashing groups

“What is it baby?”

“This is my family, they’ve done so much for me, Daryl has saved me and protected me more times than I can count, if it wasn’t for him I would be long dead, and I wanna be with you, god do I wanna be with you but I need you to let him go, please I mean you still have to give me my graduation gift” I said smirking as I looped my fingers in the waist band of his jeans hearing him groan

“Fuck Angel I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ll do it for you, he can go but you’re coming back with me, I’ve needed to feel you for too long, go say your goodbyes” he smirked as he slapped my ass as I walked back towards the entrance

“Daryl I’m so sorry I didn’t know, he’s going to let you go” he finally looked at me and pulled me into his arms

“Ain’t yer fault ya knew none of this, I can’t say I’m happy about this being the guy that ya told me about, but ya gotta do what makes ya happy, I’ll talk to the others” he said as he pushed me off back towards Negan

“I’ll see you soon Daryl”

Getting back to the sanctuary Negan showed me around until we got back to his own room, it was nice, the nicest room I’ve seen since before everything happened

“I can’t wait anymore Negan, I need you, please. I need you to fuck me” I whined as I felt him close behind me his hands brushing down my hips

“Whatever you want baby” he groaned into my ear as he started unbuttoning my jeans pulling them down as I was quick to rip off my shirt leaving me in my black lace panties and bra

“Damn look at that body” he said pushing be back down onto the bed, quick to rid himself of his own clothes, even more tattoos on his chest that had me desperate for more

“Like what ya see baby”

“God yes, please just touch me” he smirked as he started leaving sloppy hickeys down my neck to my chest, licking down my stomach to my panties, my heart was pounding, my head was buzzing

He pulled my panties down so slowly I whined my pussy aching from need

“Look at how wet you are baby and all for me, just a little taste first” he said before he licked up my pussy slowly at first before he started eating me out like he was a starved man, running my hand through his salt and pepper hair screaming his name as that pressure started building

“Fuck fuck I’m so close don’t stop” pulling away as I felt that pressure fade

“No please let me cum”

“Oh you’ll be coming angel, all night long” he laughed as he ran his cock up and down my slit jumping when he’d smack my sensitive clit

“Fuck I don’t think you’re gonna fit” he was huge, thick and long it had my mouth watering

“Oh it’ll fit and I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy raw” he said as he slowly pushed in feeling him stretch and fill me up to the brim it was overwhelming but god was it everything I’ve fantasized about

Hovering over me he was biting his lip his face scrunched in pleasure

“So tight, so know how long I’ve wanted this little pussy baby, to bend you over those bleachers and just fuck the attitude out of you” he said as he started thrusting getting faster and faster hitting all the right spots, quickly circling my clit

“Oh fuck I’ve wanted you for so long, god you fuck me so good” his cologne enveloping my senses, hearing him groan into my ear, feeling his cool rings run across my burning skin, everything I’ve dreamed of finally happening feeling that pressure build and build

“Fuck Negan I’m gonna cum please let me cum”

“Cum baby, cum on my cock, be a good girl come on” he said slapping my clit again pushing me over the edge

“OH FUCK” I screamed every nerve burning with desire, my sight clouded with stars, feeling his hot cum shoot inside me

“That’s it sunshine, let it go” his thrusts slowing until he finally pulled out making whine at the empty feeling

“Wow that was……mind blowing”

“We ain’t done yet baby, I’ve got years of fantasies to play out”

This was gonna be a long night

Taglist: @pretty-circa006 @somethingabouttheft @elliesr1fle @gigi0190 @livlaughlove03 @sst4r-g1rll @trishpish-blog @bewitchedbymadness

[san8ny]

Thinking about Abby Anderson being your cellmate..

you’re new to the prison system, probably in there on charges that weren’t even your fault, all wide-eyed as the other female prisoners bang against their cell doors to shaken you up while the scruffy guard pushes you down the cold halls

When you’re finally in your own cell, you meet Abby who barely even spares you a glance, just scoffing and muttering something under her breath about ‘fresh meat’, but after an almost violent altercation between you and some other prisoners, she’s taking you with her practically everywhere: the mess-hall, the courtyard, hell, even the showers, all because she doesn’t want anyone punking you

you both get gradually closer too, eventually learning to hold your own down in the times Abby’s on lunch duty or something— it’s the sweetest thing ever, that is before you’re cruely ripped away from her with the announcement you’ll be getting out early.

She’s definitely sad about it and you know it, but knowing Abby, she won’t make it known, simply shrugging when you break the news to her that same night

She’s avoiding you like the plague for the next remainder of your stay, only ever seeing you during bedtime. Will you talk to her when you leave? Probably not, her subconscious says,

And on the day of your dismissal, you’re hoping she’ll meet you by the gated walls separating the inmates from the outside world, heart heavy and just waiting for her to give you something to hold onto in the meantime, but with the impatient taxi driver outside waiting for you and his meter running, she never does.

You’re on the brim of tears, utterly defeated when you opt to walk away and enter the vehicle.

in the following months, you try reaching out and even visiting by to no avail, she keeps declining, but when you seem like you’ve given up, and cease further contacting, Abby’s in crisis mode, wondering why your pretty decorated envelopes have stopped arriving underneath her door.

She’s an idiot, isn’t she?

When she, herself, is finally released, she’s immediately looking around your town to apologize for her crude actions; at the time, she didn’t know whether she envied you for getting out early, or wanted you romantically, but it’s definitely been proven to be the ladder now she’s out too, and, fuck, does she utterly regret how she ghosted you, picturing how hurt you must’ve been to have stopped talking to her

After some time, she finds little ‘ol you around a pottery shop and she feels her heart swell up when you both lock eyes. You still look the same, but she hopes you mainly feel the same too.

Some time later and MUCH convincing from you, she’s taking you back to her new place, whispering sweet things about things she wished she could tell you back then, murmuring against your soft skin how many times she’s kicked herself about almost losing you to her own self-sabotage tendencies and how you always understood :(

Even as she unbuttons your top in a heated makeout session, she’s apologizing. In between your plush legs, she still is, and even when she’s making you cum multiple times that night, she ends it with a short,

“ ‘m really sorry, baby..”

she has it bad for her cell-mate.

[lovebugism]

Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur. 

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve. 

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

[batwritings]

HI, last request I swear dhvdjdgdgvs SORRY

I really loved your group sex piece for Al and Rudy, and it gave me an idea for a 141 equivalent. They’ve been going through tough times with Hassan, and fem!reader decides to help out.

Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost all take turns on her, in various positions on a bed. At first, she takes it well, but by the very end when it’s Ghost’s turn? Things take a bit of a turn. Any of the other boys can hold her up and keep her grounded, while Ghost remorsefully slams into her overstimulated cunt. He tries to be gentle, but there’s no real winning, since he’s a little too big for her to handle after all of her previous orgasms :(( Eventually, they just keep her calm, while he finishes her up. With every careful slam from his hips, she gets more and more cock-drunk. They comfort her through her final orgasm of the night, which has her crying out in pure pleasure. After they’re done cleaning her up, they make sure to give her lots of love <33

-Hybrid

...Hybrid, good friend, pal, has anyone told you how fucking GORGEOUS your ideas are? Because they really fucking are. Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were by no means a soldier in comparison to your boys on 141. The most civilian of civilian who was there for each of them (or all of them) when they needed it. And by the look in your boys' eyes after this last mission? They really fucking needed it.

Now, normally you're pretty good at gauging just how hard your boys will go on you when they really need it. Safe to say, you severely underestimated just how much attention 141 needed from you. And you weren't anywhere near done.

Your legs were shaking, inner thighs raw from the beard burn. Your jaw was sore, nearly locking up from how much you had to keep it open, cum drying on the corner of your mouth where it hadn't been cleaned up in time. Words were simply not a thing anymore, and that was all just from Price, Gaz, and Soap alone.

It was Ghost's turn now, and you could see the burn in those chocolate brown eyes. A broken whimper leaves your throat, but it is met with a soft hush and kiss to your temple. "Simon's not gonna hurt you love," Price coos as he pets your sweaty head.

The man in question kisses up your inner thigh as proof, despite the fact that he's watching you like a hungry wolf. He licks a line up your ruined cunt, from your cum stuffed hole to your clit. Your head snaps back and you let out a scratchy moan.

"Go easy on her aye L.t?" Soap rumbles on your other side, taking your hand in his so your fingers are laced with his. "She's been such a good little thing for us. Always taking care of us when we've had a rough day." The Scotsman presses tender kisses to your knuckles and lightly rubs his scruffy face against the back of your hand to keep you grounded.

Ghost only hums in response, lining up his cock with your pussy. The man has gone fully primal, letting his urges think for him. A rare occurrence to be sure but usually one worthwhile.

You can feel your eyes crossing when the lieutenant slams his member inside, a mixed growl and moan of pleasure coming forth in response. His pace is brutal, the headboard of the bed loudly knocking the wall behind you with his roughness. His blunt nails scrape your hips as he pulls you onto his cock over and over.

You're whimpering and moaning, tears pricking at your eyes as you bounce back and forth between overstimulated and bathing in pleasure. "Doing so well sweetheart," Gaz pipes up, having left the room to retrieve damp wash clothes and water. "You're taking him so well."

You whimper appreciatively as the pleasure overtakes the overstim. It was getting harder and harder to notice, but you faintly feel the familiar bubble of pleasure in the pit of your stomach. "S-S-Si-imon...!" You whine loudly, reaching your free hand out to cover his.

"Fuck--" Ghost groans, head thrown back, lost in the throes of pleasure. You can hear the mumbled praise for him as your orgasm overtakes you, your poor worn out cunt weakly milking the man's cock for all it was worth. You can't even flinch away at the spike of pain when Simon exacerbates the already heavy bruising on your hips.

As he comes down, the Brit moves his hands off your hips, one holding him up as he leans over you while the other, rubs your soft stomach where his cock is slightly outlined. You shiver a little, earning kisses on either side of your face from Gaz and Soap.

"You did so well lass, absolutely beautiful," purrs the Scotsman, hand caressing your face gently.

"Our perfect Y/N," Price rumbles, already lighting a post-sex cigar that he knew you liked the smell of. "Always taking such good care of her boys hmm?" You offer him a weak smile as Gaz gets to work, gently clearing the sweat and cum from your skin.

Soap peels himself away from you as Ghost slowly pulls out. You let out a shuddered moan as you feel the cum nearly gush from your pussy. He puts the gentlest kiss you think you've ever felt against your knee as you hear the bath start in the other room.

"Thank you for your attention doll. Now let's get you cleaned up."

[3minsover]

late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don��t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

“Ah, yes, here you are, Mr. Munson,” Joanne said, glancing up from her clipboard. Her eyes flicked from Eddie to Steve, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “And what a coincidence, since you two obviously know each other.”

Steve’s heart seemed to skip a beat, his stomach doing a nervous flip. He didn’t dare looking over at Eddie, afraid of what he’d find on the still familiar face. Joanne continued, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “You’re sitting right next to each other. Isn’t that nice?” She looked at them with a bright, expectant expression, as if she’d just announced they’d won some kind of prize.

It wasn’t until they learned they weren’t actually a match that Steve realized just how much he’d been hoping for a fairy tale ending. Him and Eddie, stumbling into each other’s lives again after almost a decade, brought back together by fate and some cosmic joke of the universe. It was the kind of story that only seemed to happen in the cheesy romance movies El loved so much, the ones Steve always claimed he hated but secretly got sucked into. But real life wasn’t like the movies. The only time his life had felt cinematic was during the nightmares of the Upside Down, and he’d had enough of that particular genre.

“Oh…” Eddie’s voice broke through Steve’s thoughts, and he glanced up, startled by the look of genuine disappointment on Eddie’s face. “Are you— I mean, could you, uh, check again? Just in case, y’know?” Eddie stammered, his fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. “Maybe they made a mistake or… or something.”

Joanne dutifully checked her clipboard again, her eyes scanning the page with the same polite smile still fixed on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Everything seems to be in order.”

“Thank you, Joanne,” Steve cut in quickly, before Eddie could press the issue any further. It wasn’t her fault that the universe hadn’t conspired in their favor. “It was still… nice seeing you again, Eds. You look good. I mean, you look well. That’s good,” he stammered, catching himself too late. He needed to end this awkward little scene before it got any worse. “We shouldn’t keep our dates waiting.”

Sure enough, while they’d been caught up in their unexpected reunion, their actual dates had arrived. Steve’s attention shifted to the woman now sitting at his table — she was attractive, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He liked that immediately; she looked relaxed, approachable. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, a dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Eddie said, noticing where Steve’s eyes had gone. He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the metal of his rings cool against Steve’s skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, but… I’m glad I did. You look good, too. Maybe we could, uh, catch up sometime. I’m new in the city, so I’m… you know, available. For whatever, whenever. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”

With a quick, embarrassed grin, Eddie turned away and headed toward his own table, where his date was already waiting. The man was tall, towering over both Steve and Eddie by at least a head, with tattoos snaking up his arms and across his neck. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, but despite his imposing appearance, he had the vibe of a friendly Saint Bernard — big, scruffy, and unexpectedly warm. The way he greeted Eddie, with an excited smile and a hand lingering just a little longer than necessary, suggested he was more than eager to make a good impression.

Something twisted deep in Steve's chest — regret, maybe, or that stubborn, lingering hope he couldn’t quite shake. But he forced himself to turn back to his date, determined to stay in the present. He was here to meet new people, to start fresh. That was the whole point, right?

Good intentions only got him so far, though. As the evening went on, it became harder and harder to keep his focus solely on Lisa, who certainly deserved better. From what Steve could tell, she was a great person — grounded and practical like Nancy, but with a quick wit and an idealism he found refreshing. She’d been signed up by a friend, too, and was still recovering from a past relationship, just like him. Though he didn’t tell her his own “formative heartbreak” was sitting just a few feet away, laughing that deep, infectious laugh Steve used to love so much.

Lisa worked for a non-profit that helped homeless people get back on their feet — too many in Chicago, especially kids, which was her main focus. They were just discussing her dream of having at least two children, a girl and a boy, when Steve felt Eddie’s gaze on him. Eddie’s date had gone to the bathroom, and it seemed like he’d been listening in on their conversation.

Steve’s desire for kids had been one of the main sticking points between him and Eddie. Not because Eddie didn’t like kids — if anything, Eddie adored them. They had practically co-parented Dustin, Lucas, Max, and the rest of the gang, and Eddie had a natural ease with them that had only made Steve fall harder. But Eddie had been convinced they’d never be allowed to adopt — not just because they were two men, but because of the lingering cloud of those old murder accusations, even though they’d been dismissed. No matter how often Steve had reassured him, saying, Sure, I want kids, but I want you more, it hadn’t been enough. He could have been happy just being a godparent to the next generation of kids. And who knew what the future held? The world was changing, more progressive than Eddie gave it credit for.

But it hadn’t helped. When they’d finally called it quits, Eddie had said, “At least now you can find someone to have your six nuggets with.” The words had stung too much for Steve to respond then, but they came back to him now.

“You know, I always wanted kids,” Steve began, looking at Lisa but knowing Eddie could hear him too. “But since I started working as a kindergarten teacher, I realized I don’t necessarily need any of my own. There are so many kids out there who could use some extra love and attention, and I’m happy to be able to give that to them, even if they’re not mine. My best friend always says we don’t have to live by the conventional ideas of family. We can make our own, however we want it to be. And I think she’s right.”

He said it to Lisa, but he hoped Eddie heard the message, too — that some dreams could change shape, and some things could still be possible, even if they didn’t look like what they’d once imagined.

Steve chanced another glance over at Eddie’s table and wasn’t surprised to find Eddie already looking back at him, his gaze intent, like he wanted to say something. But before the moment could lead to anything, Eddie’s date reappeared from the bathroom, and the connection snapped.

With effort, Steve pulled his eyes back to Lisa, who was watching the whole exchange with a puzzled look. She paused, then placed her small hand over his, her touch surprisingly steady.

“That’s a great way of looking at it, Steve,” she said softly. “I think your best friend is right. And trust me, with the work I do, I totally understand. There are so many children out there who need love, support, and attention. You’re a good guy.”

You’re a good guy.

The words echoed in his mind, pulling him back to another time, another place — back to when Eddie had said those very same words. Eddie, who hadn’t known him for more than a few days and who had every reason to hate him after high school. But somehow, Eddie had been the first to see that he had changed, the first to say it out loud, right when Steve needed to hear it most.

It seemed Eddie hadn’t stopped eavesdropping, because at that moment he stood up from his table, heading toward the bathroom. As he passed Steve, his hand brushed against Steve’s shoulder, just a quick squeeze, but enough to feel like a silent message — like Eddie still agreed with the sentiment, even after everything that had happened between them.

Watching Eddie walk away, Steve felt a rush of clarity, a sudden understanding he’d been resisting for too long. This was bullshit, as Nancy would say. All of it. He didn’t want a fresh start or someone new to help him get over his first big love. Maybe that would’ve been the logical thing, the sensible thing to do.

But when had Steve ever listened to anything but his heart? And his heart was screaming at him not to let Eddie slip away again.

Part 4

[heaartzzforcupidzz]

Hi uhm sorry for being disgusting but can you do big boy Dogday reacting to his (submissive) angel saying "I love you" and just ranting about how she can't live without him during their first time and getting a bit emotional toward the end? Thank you... :3c

A/N: Yayyy!! my first request that’s not from a friend ! you aren’t disgusting? I actually think this is so sweet.

“First times.”

Relationship(s): Dogday x bat!reader

Warnings: smutt, virgin, emotional at the end.

Dogday and you were friends. close friends some would say. very close friends. so close that you’d often find yourself clinging to his side or him putting his hand in the small of your back, whispering sweet nothings to you as you both watched the kids play.

Dogday loved you. you loved Dogday. but neither of you would ever ever say it aloud. so imagine how you both felt when the higher ups, put you two together as a couple in their show? both of your faces were tomatoes. You even asking how that idea occurred ? one of the many producers stating simply, “you guys were made for one another. we’ve been planned this, that’s why you were made, silly?” ouch. that kinda hurt to hear but still, you could watch yourself be with the love of your life even if it was a cartoon.

Dogday had asked you to meet him at his home which he called, “bone”. you always laughed when you remembered the name is his house. your house wasn’t that far from his so you walked. you finally came in sight of the door and took a breath, knocking. Dogday quickly opened the door, he looked abit scruffy and he was panting abit. you were abit taken back but you still stepped inside. he led you through the dark house, holding your hand. you finally made it to the kitchen and he smiled as you looked over everything he had done. he had made a candle lit dinner with one big bowl of spaghetti for you, both.

“I know it’s cheesy but—“ before he could even finish, you had started thanking him and took him a hug. he smiles softly, his gaze soft as he watched you. he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed. reassuringly. you both sat at the table and had begun to eat. you both were almost finished before you both slurped up the same noodle. you blushed at realizing. he had realized to and continued to slurp. you had gotten nervous and bit the pasta, breaking it. god, you had just ruined a chance of a kiss.

Dogday had stood up after you bit the noodle. he placed a paw on your cheek and softly rubbed. you both stared into one another’s eyes and he kissed you. soft and sweet. no lust , no anger, just pure love.

You were on your back as dogday slowly pushed his cock into you. you gripped the sheets as little tears pricked the corner of your eyes. he quickly took notice and stopped pushing his thick cock into you. he knew he was a big boy and he could tell you were a virgin so he waited, patiently. he tried to distract you, kissing and sucking down your body, his hands fondling your breasts.

After a few moments, you were ready again and Dogday made sure you were alright before he thrusted what was left inside. you choked out a sob and he silenced you with another kiss, pushing his thick hot tongue against yours. he gently began to fuck you, taking in each curve and the way your pussy tightened when he’d do a certain thing.

“fuck, baby, I love y—you so much, you’re — fuck, everything to me~!” you moaned out as dogdays balls hit the back of your plush ass. “c—couldn’t live without you, baby..~!”

Dogday had made you cum atleast 3 times before he stopped. he had tears in his eyes as he looked down at you. you quickly attempted to wipe his tears. “I—I’m sorry, Angel. I know I shouldn’t be crying right now.”

“No, no, it’s okay. what’s wrong? did I do something?” Dogday shook his head and held you close to his body as his knot swelled inside you. “hearing you say all those things.. just made me the happiest dog on earth.”

“oh Dogday ❤️” you laughed as you held him to.

A/N: not alotta smut I know , I’m sorry , I was at school when I wrote this. if you want a part two with more smut let me know, kay, pretty/handsome?

TAGS: @2faced-fairy

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

A helping touch

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit Smut, Age gap (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: I hope you like this little idea that came to mind. Thank you for helping me with ideas @strangelockd and gif credit goes to @thelostsmiles

Summary: You are intrigued by the new arrival at Kamar Taj. He has a scruffy appearance, but you offer to help him out when you find out why.

You were one of the youngest people at Kamar Taj since you were in your early twenties, but you had quickly adapted to the environment. You had officially been enrolled there for just over two months. It all started when you lost your job. You didn’t have a single person to help you, so you had gone to Kamar Taj since there was nowhere else for you to go. All you had wanted was a little bit of help, but you ended up staying at Kamar Taj, learning the mystic arts.

Your time at Kamar Taj had pretty much flown by. You weren’t one to start drama or crave attention. You just liked to keep to yourself, getting all your training done. But that quickly changed when you had a new arrival at Kamar Taj. His name was Stephen Strange.

He was rather scruffy when you first saw him with his unkempt hair, but you still couldn’t help it when you stared at him. For a moment you had wondered if he was homeless and that he had visited Kamar Taj for a helping hand – just like you had done earlier. But it didn’t take you long to figure out that the story was completely different. You found out more about him after you introduced yourself to him one day, asking him why he was at Kamar Taj.

Stephen was nice to you. He had confessed to you that he had lost his job and his home after getting into a terrible car accident that damaged his hands. The accident was so bad that they had to put eleven stainless steel pins in his hands – not to mention all the nerve damage he had.

You had been beyond surprised when he told you that. That was news to you since he usually kept his hands covered up with a white cloth. You could only just barely see the faintest of scars on the tips of his fingers. You had also discovered that the accident was why Stephen looked all scruffy. Thanks to his hands being all damaged and hurt, he couldn’t really shave his beard or cut his hair since his hands shook so much.

The story shocked you. But part of you was glad that he felt comfortable sharing his past with you…

******

It was later that day that you decided to help Stephen out. He looked like he needed it and you just felt so bad for him. You were also certain that you had a little crush on him already.

Leaving your room that evening in nothing but your pyjamas, you moved to Stephen’s own room, making sure to walk as quietly as possible. You didn’t want to wake the masters up.

You knocked on the door, waiting a few seconds before you pushed it open. You found yourself blushing wildly when you saw Stephen standing before his mirror. All he had on were his shorts. He was doing his best to shave his beard.

“Sorry,” you said quickly when Stephen turned to look at you. “I’ll just go.”

“No,” Stephen said softly. “It’s okay. Come in.”

“Hi,” you said, voice all timid.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to come and help you out with your hair and your beard. I actually used to be a hairdresser before coming to Kamar Taj.”

Stephen smiled at you. “I’d like that very much, actually. If you’re sure you wanna do it, that is.”

“I am.” You shut the door behind you, moving closer to Stephen. Your eyes lowered and they landed on his hands, gasping when you saw how scarred they truly were. But it didn’t scare you. No. You just thought his hands looked so unique. “Do you have a chair so that you can sit down?”

Stephen nodded, grabbing a chair that had been sitting in front of his desk. He got it settled in front of the mirror, taking a seat.

You grabbed a pair of scissors that had been sitting on a small shelf by the mirror, but before you got to work, you wanted to know if Stephen was okay with what you were about to do.

“Do you trust me?” you asked softly.

Stephen nodded. “I do.”

Grabbing the towel that had been hanging on one of Stephen’s shoulders, you wrapped it around him. Your fingers pulled at his hair, running your digits through his locks before you began to cut the length off. Thick strands hit the floor as you cut here and there, doing your best to keep everything even. It didn’t take you long to get his hair down to a length you thought he’d be happy with. Exchanging the scissors for a brush, you carefully ran the brush through his hair, not stopping until the grey streaks in his hair were carefully tucked behind his ears. You swept back most of his hair so that it was to one side, finishing off the look so that it curled a little at the top, just above his forehead.

“Do you like it?” you asked nervously.

You watched him send you a smile, his eyes on your reflection in the mirror. “I love it.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Do you still want me to do your beard?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hm, is there another chair I can sit in to do it? Might make it a bit easier.”

“Oh, no, sorry. There’s just this one chair.”

“Oh.”

Stephen said nothing for a long while. For a second you wondered if he had regretted choosing you to do his hair. But then he spoke up.

“You can sit on my lap,” Stephen offered. “If that’ll work.”

You felt your cheeks go red at the suggestion. But it did sound enticing. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Only if you want to...”

“I don’t mind.” With that, you grabbed the electric razor from the dressing table – the one Stephen had been trying to use earlier. Then you moved in front of him, parting your legs and getting on his lap so that you could straddle him. After getting settled in Stephen’s lap, you looked down at him. “How do you want me to shave your beard? Do you want to be clean-shaven? Or something else?”

Stephen smiled at you. “I was thinking maybe a goatee would suit me.”

You smiled back at him, giving him a nod. Then you turned the razor on, the sound of the buzzing hitting your ears. Tilting your head, you began to get to work on his beard. There was a lot to get rid of. You moved the razor carefully along his skin, keeping Stephen’s vision in mind. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw Stephen close his eyes as you shaved off his beard.

To get a better angle, you shifted slightly. But that meant you were rocking your hips against him softly, and you suddenly felt Stephen’s hands grab your hips tight as he gasped.

But you kept moving, not stopping until the only facial hair Stephen had was his goatee. Turning off the razor, you moved to the side slightly so that Stephen could see his reflection properly.

“Well, what do you think?” you asked.

Stephen reached up, rubbing his fingers against his chin. “You did a really good job.”

“Thank you.” Leaning over, you sat the razor down, still sitting there in Stephen’s lap. You looked down at Stephen, taking in his face. You couldn’t believe how different he looked. He had gone from scruffy to… handsome. Really handsome. You’re gorgeous, you thought the words in your head.

“You are too, sweetheart,” Stephen mumbled.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t realise you had said it out loud. “Wait… Did I say that out loud?”

Stephen chuckled. “You did.”

But then you realised what Stephen had said. He had said that you were gorgeous. “Did you mean what you said? When… When you said that I was gorgeous?”

“I did mean it.”

It was quiet for a long moment – until Stephen slowly closed the gap to kiss you. Your cheeks felt hot as you felt his lips on yours, not quite sure how to react at first. All you could feel was shock. Finally, you were just about to kiss him back, and then you felt Stephen pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen said, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m—"

But you cut him off and gave him a kiss right back. You moaned softly, feeling Stephen’s tongue push into your mouth, his big hands on your hips. You began to move your hips against him, forcing a groan from Stephen’s lips. You kissed long and hard, only for you to gasp when you felt Stephen’s hard length right up against you.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen mumbled when you noticed.

But he had nothing to be sorry for. You went back to kissing him, grinding your hips against him again. You were getting wet, your need for Stephen growing by the second.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you whispered into Stephen’s ear.

Stephen shifted so that he could look at you properly. “Are you sure? You know I’m older than you.”

“I’m definitely sure. Plus… I’ve always liked older men, anyway,” you said, voice light and teasing. You looked at Stephen carefully, seeing him blush at your words. So adorable, you thought.

“Fair enough,” he told you with a small laugh.

Soon his lips were back on you, and you hurriedly kissed him back. Your hands moved down to his shorts and Stephen sat up a little so that you could pull them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You couldn’t help but gasp when you got a look at him.

“Do you like what you see?” he wondered, a smirk on his face.

All you did was kiss him in response, and he kissed you right back. But you had to get up. Just for a second. Only so that you could pull down your pyjama shorts, letting them hit the floor. It didn’t take you long to get back on Stephen’s lap, kissing him again. The kiss lasted a good few minutes before Stephen pulled away from you.

“You gotta be quiet,” he instructed you.

You nodded. “I will be.”

Stephen nodded and you put your hands on his shoulders, lifting yourself up just that little bit so that the head of his cock could line up with your entrance. Then you slowly moved down onto him, the both of you moaning at the same time as you took him inside of you. You both moaned together and when you had every inch of him inside of you, you pressed your face into his neck. Slowly, you ground your hips against his, with Stephen’s big hands holding you tight.

You slowly rode Stephen, doing your best to stay quiet. Stephen was being quiet too as you lifted yourself up and then you brought yourself back down. You both moved together in unison, and you just loved the feeling of Stephen’s thick cock stretching you out.

But you couldn’t help but moan when you felt the tip of Stephen’s cock hit that sensitive spot deep inside of you. The sound was long and loud, your lips parted as you just let the noise out.

“Shh,” Stephen said.

You sent him a quick nod. You did your best to stay quiet, but it was just so hard.

“You feel so good,” Stephen said with a groan, his words low. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

You kept moving along his cock. Up and down, up and down. Stephen’s thick cock felt like heaven buried deep inside of you. The tip kept hitting that sweet spot, your eyes half opened as you rode his cock.

“Look at you,” Stephen said with gritted teeth. “You look so beautiful taking my cock. Mm, you look so pretty for me. All mine…”

“Oh, Stephen,” you let out, moving along Stephen’s cock faster. You needed to pick up the pace, letting his cock fill you up again and again. You could feel him throbbing inside of you and that just made it feel all the more better.

“I love how you say my name,” he grunted. “You sound so gorgeous saying my name like that. And fuck, you take my cock so well. So, so good. You feel perfect. I can’t get enough of this pussy.”

His words spurred you on and you found yourself just riding his cock faster, letting him stretch you out and fill you up. Squeezing his shoulders tight, you bounced on his cock wildly, your hands moving to his back as you scratched at him. Pure pleasure was taking over your body as you moved up and down, up and down. Even your toes started to curl as your pussy grew wetter, coating Stephen’s cock in your sweet juices. Stephen kept groaning underneath you as you rode him, clearly loving how you were working your pussy along his cock.

“Stephen, please,” you whined out.

“I know, sweetheart. I know it feels good. This little pussy feels so good wrapped around me,” he grunted. “Feels like it was made for me. I just wanna make you feel good. And I’m gonna make you feel even better now.”

Stephen suddenly reached down and grabbed your ass. Holding you tight, he began to pound into you from underneath. You cried out, the noise shrill and loud as he gave you every inch of his cock. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against you as he made you his.

“Stephen!” you cried out. “Mm, Stephen! Yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s it, gorgeous. Say my name. Scream it out. Look at your face. Look at how pretty you look taking my cock. My sweet, pretty girl.”

“Mm, Stephen, yes!”

Snapping your eyes open, you pressed your forehead to Stephen’s, staring right into his dark eyes as he fucked you. Your lips were pouted, mouth wide open as Stephen took you. He kept fucking you, kept giving you every single inch of his cock. Your pussy felt so wet as he slid in and out of you.

Stephen gave you a wink suddenly, and that was when he seemed to use every last bit of energy he had to take you. You gasped, feeling him thrust in and out of you wildly, his thick cock buried deep inside of you. It was the best thing you had ever felt. Nothing had ever come close to the pure, filthy pleasure that Stephen was giving you.

“Stephen, Stephen, Stephen,” you chanted. Your voice was laced with lust.

“Fuck, you feel so good. I can’t believe how good you feel, baby.”

He fucked you and took you, your pussy turning his thick cock all wet and sticky the more your pleasure grew. Moving your shaking hands, you grabbed at Stephen’s hair, yanking at his locks. Stephen seemed to like that as he groaned in response, his thick length literally twitching inside of you.

“I love how you feel,” Stephen grunted. “You have the tightest, little pussy. You feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love it. I love how you feel so much.”

You stayed put, right there on Stephen’s length as he kept fucking you from underneath. His cock slid into you so easily, his tip hitting that spot again and again. You knew he was going to make you cum soon. You could just feel it. The pleasure increased by the second, your heart racing as he thrusted into you at the perfect angle.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you told him with a whisper. “Oh, Stephen!”

Stephen seemed to take that as a challenge, because before you knew it, his fingers were digging into your ass tighter as he took you, fucking you so fast and hard that you could barely believe it. He hit that spot. That sensitive spot. He hit it over and over, until your eyes shut tightly and your ears started to ring, and then it was it for you.

A second later, your orgasm took over. You couldn’t be quiet. You just couldn’t. You came right then and there, squeezing at Stephen’s cock. You were trembling from top to bottom as Stephen groaned deeply. You guessed that he could feel you clenching around him, his cock throbbing wildly as he pounded into you deep and hard, giving you all of his cock until he lost it.

He grunted, shooting his thick load right into you. “Oh, fuck. I’m cumming. I’m cumming for you, beautiful girl.” Stephen held you right up against him, holding you nice and tight. He kissed you softly. “You were amazing. So amazing, my beautiful girl.”

You couldn’t say anything. You just stayed there, the both of you trying to get your breathing back on track. But soon Stephen stood up, keeping you in his arms. You let out a whine when his cock slipped out of you. Stephen got you settled on the chair, pulling up his shorts.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he told you.

And he was. With a washcloth in hand, Stephen gently cleaned you up before tossing the material to the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I am,” you said, voice low. You were so tired.

He smiled down at you. “I should ask you to cut my hair again if this is what happens after. Also, that was a total of five out of five star hair cut right there. Great service.”

Chuckling softly, you slowly moved off the chair and put your shorts back on. “Well, I better get back to my room. I don’t want us to get caught together.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

He leaned in close, giving you a slow kiss. You hummed against his lips, kissing him softly before making your way to his door.

“I’ll see you around,” Stephen offered, his voice warm.

You gave him a bright, satisfied smile. “Definitely.” With that, you made a quick and sneaky exit back to your bedroom, that same smile on your face. 

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @marym7 @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @ssinimbrn-catsr0pia @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @scxrleth3r @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.13

So my mate and I took my little brother out and he was like guys can we watch Deadpool/Wolverine so I watched it a fucking 3rd time

Upon my 3rd time watching I'm disappointed that Origins!Wade/Deadpool wasnt with the Deadpool core

And also I've realised how much dialogue I've like messed up 🤣🤣 thank y'all for sticking with me for chapters 1-3, if I ever post this on AO3 I'll have to spend years editing

This is like a part 1 of 2, the chapter was getting really long sorry

<<Part 12 Part 14>> Masterlist

The phone buzzed next to your head causing you to jolt upright.

You grumbled, eyes half open, patting the bed in hopes to stop the infernal noise.

It was your alarm, the one you had set to get up and go. Only you had set it when you didn't have to spend half the night rearranging your room.

“Morning sunshine.” Logan's voice made you turn. Where was he? He was normally right next t- right. He wasn't here. He was heading towards Nebraska.

“Logan?” You muttered, eyes barely blinking open.

“Hello baby.” He purred.

“Hi.” You smiled, God, his voice could just ease you back to sleep.

“It's pretty early for you to be up.” There was the tiniest echo to him.

“Where are you?” You pulled the phone closer, clearing the morning voice out of your throat.

“On route.” He revved the engine.

“Y-you're on your bike?” You squeaked. “Logan! That's dangerous!”

“It's fine, bub. You're on Bluetooth.”

“It's too early for me to even begin to learn what that is.”

He chuckled, the noise warning your chest. “You're fucking cute.”

“No, you're fucking cute.”

“Mm, wish I was.” He drawled, you could picture the smirk on his face.

Eventually you heaved yourself up and dragged your feet over to the drawers. Pulling out a suitable outfit. Some cycling shorts and a large shirt, no one would know it was Logan's but you.

You contemplated putting a bra on but you really couldn't be bothered with it, spending years in the Void with a broken one - snapped wires were a menace - you had grown accustomed to wearing what essentially was a sports bra so now as you looked at the padded cups they felt stuffy. The shirt was a thicker material - you think it was maybe loungewear? - it had long sleeves and a loose neckline where Logan had worn it.

Your hair was washed yesterday in preparation for today, wanting to look your best, so you didn't have to worry about looking scruffy. No, you looked comfortable.

You were put together well enough and when you looked in the bathroom mirror it was an outfit you would see other women wearing. Not that you cared. Maybe a little bit.

You stuffed your feet into some trainers, seriously debating sliders - you had thought socks and sandals were a big no no but the kids these days loved them - but decided on the trainers in case you needed to run. Preparing for some issue or display or anything.

You chucked your half full backpack over your shoulder, tossing a phone charger into it, and went to find the others.

As you opened the door Blade’s back was leaning against the frame.

“Fuck me!” You jumped, hand over heart. “Blade, you're actually going to kill me one day.”

He hummed. “Why has your bitch ass husband stolen my bike?”

“I did tell him not to.” You shut the door behind yourself.

“Mother fucker has a bike.” He tutted. “Ain't as pretty as mine.”

“Blade, I am sorry, I-” You shrugged, having no clue what to say. “He's an ass.”

“If he scratches it…”

“If he does, you have my permission to fight him.” Mock knighting him as you said 'permission'.

He laughed lowly. “We did fight once. Ended up on the same side. He gave me his coat.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“Some bloodsucker. Had an M name.”

Blade hadn't told you that. He hadn't mentioned he had once known a Wolverine. Not even when you had cried on his shoulder as Laura joined your party. You had mourned her, as well as the rest of your family, so seeing her alive and well really did mess with your psyche.

Laura's door opened to your left and she let out a surprised sound. “I was coming to see if you were awake.”

“Me and uncle Blade were just talking.”

“Anything interesting?” Her pupils fluttered between the two of you.

“A wolverine gave him a coat.” You repeated. “I didn't know he had met one.”

She crossed her arms. “Me neither.”

“I don't jabber like you.” He winked, a sly smile revealing his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and passed the man to knock at Gambit's door.

“Why are you up?” Laura asked Blade just in your earshot.

“Wanted to see you off.” He patted her shoulder. “Seeing less of you nowadays.”

She wormed her way into hugging him, not that he really resisted, and squeezed him. “It's strange being here.”

“I know.”

You wish you hadn't knocked at Gambit's door because the fucker opened it pulling your attention from them. “‘ey.” He nodded at you. “Who' ready for some drivin’?” Gambit ruffled your hair and shot passed you to the others. “Didn’ kno’ you'ere comin’.”

“I'm not.” Blade informed.

Gambit shrugged and tugged at Laura, “C’mon!”

You all trotted towards Logan's Jeep and climbed in. Your baby had the back row to herself and she had been clever enough to pack a small pillow in her bag.

Laura was wearing a Megadeth tee on top of a long sleeve with a pair of jeans. Gambit had opted for jeans as well but his seemed to be intentionally low waist. He'd paired it with a shirt that you're sure he had done a DIY crop job on.

All in all none of you looked like you were going to the same place but you looked good and you all felt comfy, all were able to decide what to wear. Not forced into the same outfit day in and day out. Laundry day in the Void was hilarious.

Everyone - bar Laura of course - had seen everyone else naked. You remember Magneto scoffing at yourself, Johnny and Gambit for sitting playing checkers in practically nothing, the odd sock and a ratty old shirt for modesty.

Y/N: setting off now x

You knew Logan would want to know so as Blade tapped the side of the car and Gambit pulled away from the curb you sent the text.

Your phone was sitting on your lap, Waze telling him where to go interrupting your playlist.

The Killers were your newest conquest. They were brilliant. You loved everything they performed, so dancy and fun!

Waze instructed you to get onto the highway you and Logan had had your hot steamy car sex and you had to fight the blush. If you were anywhere else people could've spotted you, well, they probably saw your car rocking… could you get a ticket for public indecency if they didn't have actual proof?

What if the car rocking was on camera?

“She's ‘sleep.” Gambit whispered next to you.

You turned back to see Laura spread out, sparko. “I hope she has fun at the Mansion.”

“Why wouldn' she?” He flicked the blinker on.

“I dunno, she hasn't been there.”

“Neither, chere.”

Gambit merged.

“Well, I know she had herself a Charles, I know he died in front of her. And yeah she's seen the one here for a millisecond, she had him look into her mind, but that's different. This will be informal, this will be- oh, I don't know.”

“You jus’ ‘ave to let things be things.” He shrugged. “You're worrying for her, when you don't need to. She strong. If she need you, she'll ask.”

You let that sit with you. He was right of course. She was tough and she would ask but since your little incident you were worried she had taken a step back. “It's just hard. We've lost so many people, I want to keep you all safe.”

“No such thing as safe.”

Again he was right. Say, right now, someone could have a brain aneurysm and crash their car into yours. There was literally no such thing as safe in a world of ever increasing variables. You, even, still entertained the notion that this was Cassandra toying with you.

“I don't think people give you enough credit, Remy.”

He chuckled. “Yo’ kno’ it serious when you use're my name.”

You laughed with him.

~~

The mansion came into view and you felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. “Laura baby.” You nudged her knee.

The girl cracked an eye and realised where you guys were. “We're here?”

“Yeah, love.”

She sat up and eagerly undone her belt.

“Laura, Gambit, this is the X-Mansion.”

The building was the same, there were slight differences in the foliage but it was eerie how exact everything was. You could see Colossus was standing like a statue at the door to greet you.

Gambit pulled up in front to the entry stairs.

He turned the car off and you all exited.

“Y/N, Laura, Remy.” Colossus greeted in kind. “Welcome, welcome.”

The three of you trotted up the stairs and into the front doors.

Fuck me, even the chandelier had it's one flickering bulb. This was your mansion. Your home. Your sanctuary.

//

“You needn't fear, Miss L/N.” Charles spoke above your head to your mother. “Y/N will be safe here.”

You could hear giggling to the left, giggling and stomping. There were kids having fun. Craning your neck you could see one kid floating mid air whilst the other had their hands extended.

They were using their powers… they were allowed to use their powers.

“Hey.” A feminine voice caught your attention. It was a young girl - a year or so older than you, maybe seventeen? - with bouncy ginger hair and a kind face. “You're new.” She spoke without moving her lips. “I'm Jean.”

“Y/N.”

The girl gave you a bright smile. “I was asked to show you your room.”

You turned back to your mother who was still engaged in conversation with Professor Xavier. She looked different. Her shoulders weren't sagging and her eyes seemed hopeful. She wanted you here. Wanted you to be safe and, well let's face it, she'd be safer without a fucked up child.

“You're not 'fucked up'.” Jean rolled her eyes. “You're just something new.”

Your eyes widened. “Can you hear my mind?”

“Yeah, sorry. I can't turn it off all the time.” She had genuine embarrassment splattered on face. “I don't mean to, I'm still practising.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I'll try to keep my thoughts quiet.”

\\

The familiar sound of wheels pulled you from the memory. “Ahh.” Charles came into view. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The others had clearly picked you as the spokesperson so you smiled. “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled with glee. “It was your home previously and apparently it hasn't changed. Would Laura and Remy care for a tour?”

The others looked at each other before nodding, unsurely.

“I'll call you both a guide.” He spoke before just sitting still. To an onlooker it would look rude, sarcastic, to say that and then sit motionless but you knew otherwise.

A girl with dead straight, long blonde hair and an unearthly feel to her sauntered into the entry. “I take Laura to Ellie and Yukio.” She spoke with a thick russian accent.

“Thank you kindly, Illyana.” Charles spoke over his shoulder.

You weren't 100% comfortable with Laura leaving but she had an eager expression on her face so you let her go with nothing more than a “call me if you need me.”

The two girls walked up the first flight of stairs, there were many in this labyrinth of an estate, and as they did they passed Rogue. She had darker skin than your Rogue but there was no mistaking that hair. Her hair was thick, voluminous and curly.

Her hips swayed as she strutted down the stairs. Adorned in ‘people clothes’ but looking every bit the X-Man she was.

“Y’all alright Sugar?” She placed her gloved hands on her hips. “I'm Anna Marie, they call me Rogue.”

“Remy LeBeau.” He bowed next to you. “They call me th’ Gambit.”

“Mmm. A Cajun, I can't wait to get some recipes outta you.” She waved him along, towards the right of the stairs and then disappeared underneath them to the kitchen.

Gambit clapped your shoulder before he jogged after her.

You were left with Charles. He was still smiling sweetly at you, it was a little unnerving.

“So…” You clapped your hands. “Who's my tour guide?”

“You don't need one, dear.” He told you simply. “You're free to explore, if you need me, call me.” He then whirled and zoomed off.

You were just left.

Again, to an onlooker it was rude. But maybe he knew you’d feel awkward paired with a X-Man. You would have to pretend to be in awe of the jet or the grounds or even just them. You knew a lot of these people but they had no clue you even existed.

If the TVA really went back and altered the reality was it still the same universe? How could they take their Logan out of it when he was the original Anchor being to the whole thing?

You pushed those thoughts aside and stomped through into one of the sitting areas.

It was large and decorated warmly. There were four sofas, three of which were in a square by the fire and the other was behind the one adjacent to the flames. There were coffee tables with board games and empty cups, messy bookshelves stacked high with trinkets and more games.

Two kids were playing chess, one had wings and the other was orange. Both were humanoid and young. Maybe 12?

//

You didn't care where you landed but you needed to sit by a fire. Stomping the light sleet off of your boots, you slipped out of your wet coat and scarf. Abandoning them on the floor - no one would be awake now - you rushed through into the first sitting available room. You flipped over the back of the sofa, face buried in pillows as your socks felt vague embers of warmth.

It was dangerous that it was still roaring but you didn't give a flying fuck.

“You alright bub?” A voice asked, opposite you.

You scrambled into a more presentable position and saw it was the new guy. What was his name? James? Jackson? Jonathan? It was definitely a J-Name.

He was sitting on the sofa opposite, in an X-Men hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, his feet were bare. The clothes led you to believe he had come from his bedroom.

“Yeah.” You nodded, hands outstretched to the flames. “Sorry, didn't realise anyone would be up.”

“It's alright.” He moved his hand to show that he was nursing a drink.

You questioned in disbelief, “is that bourbon?”

“Don't rat me out and you can have some.”

Now, that was an offer too good to pass up. “Sure thing. I saw nothing.”

He didn't have another glass so emptied the liquid into his mouth, wiped the rim and handed you a full glass. “Don't mind the-”

“It's fine.” After the day you had sharing a glass with a handsome man was nothing. “Working here I'm immune to any disease you could imagine.” You took a healthy swig, the liquid burning your throat. Immediately warming your insides. “I dunno if this is good stuff is but it's fucking strong. So cheers to that.”

He raised the bottle and took a gulp. You both sat in silence. After a while you had to shed your jumper, the heat making you sweat. He waited for you to fold your jumper before asking. “How long you been here?”

You did the mental maths. “Seven years.”

He hummed, the fire casting shadows that danced beautifully against his skin.

“Used to be everyone's favourite student, now I'm their favourite teacher.”

“Pretty thing like you, I'm sure you're right.” You had to pull your eyes away from him as he smirked. “What’d you teach?”

“Self defence.”

“Maybe I'll pop by.”

You took another sip. “You should. It'd be good to show the kids how to take down a bigger opponent.”

He sniggered. “It's a date.”

You prayed that the heat in your cheeks was from the fire.

“Why're you getting in so late?” One of his brows met his hairline. His hair was bonkers but endearingly cute, he looked like a little kitty cat. You wanted to see if it was as soft as you imagine.

You heaved a sigh. “I had to walk, the bike packed in.” Scott had loaned you his bike, drilling into you that you needed to refill it after using it. Well the fucker hadn't because it had conked out halfway through the journey.

The man opposite gave you a guilty smile. “Scott's?” You nod. “I might borrow it without his permission every now and then.”

You rolled your eyes. “So you're why I had to trek in the storm for 30 minutes. You owe me more than a drink Mr.”

“Logan.” He offered. Huh, you could've sworn it was a J-Name.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I'll make it up to you Y/N. Somehow.”

\\

A buzz in your pocket centred you back to reality.

Logan: Picked up his scent a while back. He's walking in circles

Y/N: Why? X

Logan: Classic misdirection, maybe shield weren't so careful

Y/N: Just be safe baby x

Logan: Course

Logan: How's the mansion?

Y/N: Memory lane has nothing on this place x

Logan: That good?

Y/N: Think so… just remembered meeting Logan for the first time. We'd sorta been introduced before but actually talking was a while after

He had read the message but didn't reply immediately. Perhaps he had to put the phone away to track Victor?

Logan: I'm here if things get overwhelming

Y/N: I'm not gonna call you on a hunt, love x

Logan: You're allowed. No one else.

Logan: You have any sort of 'wobble', you call me. No tears without me knowing

Y/N: Okay x

Logan: I gotta go but I love you Y/N

Y/N: You more baby x

The kids kept giving you confused side eye so you carried on into the next room. Surely they had seen a random person before, your mansion had a new person daily.

//

“Big brother is watching you.”

“Please, I beg you, I will do anything. Please do not spoil this.” You begged. He had found you sitting on the floor in a small crevice, 1984 clutched in hand. “This is the only book the students haven't read. ‘did you like that part miss?’ no I haven't got to that part yet, Sanhu!”

“I won't.” His hands met his hips. “What are you doin’?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm Hiding.” Your eyes scanned the room before you eased yourself up, Logan caught your hand and steadied you.

“Sorry to pull you from your spot.”

“It's okay, wasn't you I was hiding from.” You dogeared the page and closed the book. “They keep finding me. There's only so many inane questions I can stomach.”

Logan chuckled. “It's ‘cause half have a crush on you and the rest are trying to imitate ya.”

You scoffed. “I highly doubt that.”

“Bub, trust me.” He rolled his eyes at your expression. “Here.” He handed you a blank CD case. “I came to give you this, it's the band that sings Sexical.”

“Oh cool!” You accepted the CD and flipped it. It looked man-made; ‘She's an angel’, ‘fuel to run’ and ‘cream’ scrawled in Logan's messy scratch. “You made this?”

“There are some songs I don't think you'd like, so I thought I'd put the good ones together.” He shrugged, the wall behind you becoming interesting.

You opened the case to see he had thankfully written the band's name - Love/Hate - with the same marker on the disc.

“Well, thank you. I'll dig my Walkman out.”

Logan gave you a nod and stalked off.

~~

Christmas was wholly celebrated in the Mansion as there were those who couldn't return home. Storm and Jubilee had convinced you to help with the decorations and it took little to no convincing to get a certain gruff man to assist.

“Every year there's more.” You gestured to the decs.

Logan was leaning against the wall, he had helped you with the foil garlands, arms folded. “You love it.”

“Of course I do but taking it all down haunts me.” Last year it had taken four days to rid the Mansion of every last bit of tinsel. Angel had found a missed snowflake in the middle of June, it had fallen and landed on top of a portrait frame.

“If you had it your way, they'd stay up all year.”

“No.” You were adamant. “Halloween trumps Christmas.” Logan's brows rose to his hairline. “What? It's the superior holiday.”

“Wow, I knew you liked Halloween but hearing that from little miss kringle is something else.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. “Shut up.”

Logan caught your wrist and placed it back down to your side, pulling you closer as he did. “Don't start things you can't finish.”

“Oh, we all know I can take you.” You gave him a smug smirk, spurred on by his intoxicating gaze - there were flecks of green hidden in his dark eyes - you added, “And in a fight.”

Logan's eyes bugled yet they slipped to your lips and back up.

“Hey, tweedle Dee and Dum!” Ororo’s voice called. “I'm seeing a lot of gazing longingly into each other's eyes and not seeing a lot of decorating.”

You turned to see Storm standing at the opposite side of the room, box in hand, one brow raised.

“Gazing longingly?” Logan scoffed as you called out: “We needed a five minute break!” You gave a nervous chuckle at his response and the situation in itself before trotting over to Storm, Logan let your wrist go a second too late, causing another awkward laugh.

“You can't tell me this room isn't festive enough.” Your voice was slightly higher than usual, no one commented but you knew they knew.

“It isn't festive enough.” Storm deadpanned, handing you yet another box, she did crack a smile at your ‘wtf’ face. “This is the last one. I promise.”

You didn't believe her in the slightest but let her vacate the room as you opened the storage box. It was faux greenery, garlands and wreaths and mistletoe.

“Ooh, Logan look!” You presented the herb. “Poisonous to werewolves.”

Logan was still standing by the wall but took a couple steps forward to look. “Lucky we don't have any.”

“Yet.” You added. “With all us mutants it wouldn't surprise me if we got a Vamp or an Undead being. I mean you're pretty grizzly, not far off a wolf.”

A familiar smile settled onto Logan's face, it was the same one he wore whenever you went on a tangent. You suppose being the silent watcher he was, he must be used to people yapping around him, hopefully you didn't annoy him too much.

You tried to refocus. “Where should we put it?”

“Depends on who you want to catch out.”

“Well, Jean won't tell me that her and Scott have a thing… but they totally have a thing. Maybe we try to catch them.”

“‘We’ yeah?”

“Are you backing out of my incredibly complex and well thought through plan?”

“Never.”

~~

“Get out!” You screamed. “Go!”

The children behind you sprinted. They didn't wait for another order.

The humans had decided that they'd start out their New Year by killing children.

Your fields held strong against their bullets but you had known they would - if they could last against Adamantium they could last against a few bullets - creating bubbles of safety.

You were defense. Always on the lookout, always trying to hold back the onslaught so that the others could either fight or flee.

The footsteps behind you were out of earshot, meaning the children had got to safety. An underground tunnel would get them to a safe point. They would wait there for an adult.

You had done many drills and tests but you never thought this was a possibility. Fucking ridiculous!

You made a huge bubble and shoved the humans back, most of them being flung out of windows, glass shattering everywhere, but some hit the walls being knocked unconscious.

You were in bed, meaning that you had no shoes on so you tried to avoid blood, glass, bullet shells and any other debris as you examined each room.

You needed to get back to the others, you were protecting them from afar when a child screaming interrupted your flow. Logan's eyes had made contact with yours from his position in the garden and he gave you a few frantic nods. You didn't need permission but it was good that one of the team knew you weren't hit. If your fields suddenly vanished without explanation they might think the worst.

Shouting across the hall severed the silence and you jumped right back into the action. Jogging down the corridor, keeping low as you passed exposed areas.

Entering the room, you found nothing. It was just some of the teenage bunks. There were no children, no enemies, nothing.

Where had the shouting com-

Hands wrapped around you and you struggled, snarling as they strapped something to your neck. You tried to shove them off and create a field to prevent the rope? from winding around your neck. To stop it getting tighter.

No.

It wasn't a rope.

It was cold.

Metallic.

Why weren't your fields working?

“Not so strong now, cutie?” A masculine voice spoke from behind, he circled you and gripped your jaw with one hand. “It's a shame you're one of them, you're fucking hot.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket?” You sassed. “Wouldn't want mommy to know you liked a freak like m-” He yanked your hair, making your neck click as he pulled you backwards.

“Tsk, tsk. A girl like you should know what comes out of your mouth should be prettier than what goes in.”

You spat in his face.

“That's it, bitch.” He struck you across your face - releasing his grip on your hair - with such force you landed on your knees.

He looked unimpressed as he stalked over to you and yanked on your arm, dragging you along with him. You fought back of course but felt inadequate without your powers. What sort of technology did they posses to force the Mutant gene into submission?

He groaned at the top of the stairs before you were tossed down them.

Your vision was blurry when you came to, he was dragging you again, bruised and aching. You could feel warmth flow from your hairline, down to your eyebrows, also leaking from your nose. Moving your arm was painful but you wiped your nose and found a blurry sticky red substance on your hand.

“Oit!” He yelled.

You were yanked down another few steps - each one sending a new jolt of pain through your body - but as you felt the floor it was hard. Small cold stones met your bare legs.

Outside. You were outside.

“You Muties, stick together right?” He presented you, slumped on the floor, squinting up at him. “Sorry, one second.” The man threaded his hand back into your hair and pulled you up, deciding kneeling wasn't good enough and forced you to stand on throbbing ankles. “What's her mutant name? You all have one, right?”

Your eyes focused and refocused trying to make out who was on the field. Storm was easy to see because of her hair but you could also see Hank and Scott. You knew Logan was there earlier but couldn't see him now.

“What? No one wants to play now?” He turned your head towards him and gave you an over exaggerated frown.

You had just enough sense in you to spit in his face again.

“That's it you fu-” he didn't finish his sentence because he was too preoccupied with punching you straight in the face.

You, again, landed on the ground but this time you were giggling.

“What's so funny?”

“You got-” You wheezed, closing your eyes. “Mutant spit in your mouth.”

He turned back to the others, addressing them. “I was going to bargain with her life but she's pissing me off, so I'm just going to kill her instead.” He chuckled. “Uh-uh-uh Cyclops. You can't kill a human under the new bill.”

“What?” Scott voiced the question you all thought.

“No mutant can kill a human, not even in self defense. Starting on January 1st. It's too bad for your lo-” He cut himself off with a choked gargle.

“No, it's too bad for you.” Logan taunted. “You had 6 minutes.”

The clamp on your neck fell away and hands were on your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You tried to open your eyes but it was agony. “Hey, bub.”

“That's my line.”

~~

Laying on the grass had become somewhat a passtime of yours now. For some reason you found comfort in the field.

When you had nightmares of that sadistic man and the bill and the humans and everything in your life, coming outside and laying on the dewy ground recentered you.

Charles and Erik had called a truce and began battling political opponents instead of each other. The bill was bullshit. It had passed and been withdrawn within a month.

It was odd classing Erik and Raven as enemies again when you knew ultimately you wanted the same goal but you would have to get used to it.

“I thought I'd find you out here.” You extended your neck to see Logan standing behind you.

“Hey, Lo.”

He collapsed next to you, sitting with one leg bent, his elbow resting on the knee. “You alright?”

You'd been the only mutant in the Mansion so far to have a collar fitted around your neck. You'd been the only one truly defenceless. Truly useless!

“I like the stars.”

He hummed, falling into a weighty silence with you.

There was no denying the two of you had grown closer, hell, he was probably your best friend at this point.

The two of you were paired together in training drills and in your lessons because you could really fight each other. Neither holding back. Your power could stop his. You were evenly matched.

He had gifted you more CDs and you had let him borrow a David Bowie LP. If he found you laying on the sofa reading he would sit next to you and keep you warm. He was so warm. Once, he even read to you. Your eyes were so tired and he plucked the book from your hands and finished the chapter.

You would never tell anyone, least of all him, but that was one of your fondest memories. His voice was so soothing and, bless him, he had even made up voices for the characters.

Logan always sat next to or opposite you as you ate, he was usually the main reason you ate, saving you a plate or bowl.

He was… well, like every other person with eyes here you'd formed a crush on him. He was just so kind. So generous. And it didn't hurt that he looked like that.

“I was thinkin’,” He started. You looked over, expecting him to still be sitting but he had moved. He was lying next to you, watching you. His nose inches from yours. “Tomorrow, I'll take you to to the bar I like.”

He was known for sneaking off premises at night. Coming home smelling like booze and smoke.

“The bar you like?” He had never confirmed he went to a bar - he was oddly secretive about certain aspects - but you all knew, it was something for him to admit it.

“It's a real shit hole but it's cheap and close.”

Your lips upturned at his blunt response. “Okay. You and me tomorrow. It's a date.”

“It is.” His face was serious. “I am taking you on a date.”

Oh.

“Me?” You were flabbergasted. There were goddesses like Jean and Ororo and Raven and Psylocke knocking about and he wanted to take you on a date?

“There was only so much rolling about in the simulator we could do before I asked you out.” He joked but you could see an undercurrent of fear in his eyes.

“Yeah. Okay.” Your cheeks were warm. “I'd really like that.”

His cheeks pinkened and he looked up at the stars trying to suppress his smile. “Good.”

You felt his hand intertwine in yours and tried so hard to act natural. Tried to keep your breath steady and appear calm and collected.

“So, uh, what does one wear to a real shit hole?”

Logan's shoulders shook with his laugh.

~~

It wasn't easy to take things slow when you lived and worked with the person.

Logan was ever the gentleman and gave you space but it was a strange mixture of wanting to be with him platonically and wanting to be with him romantically.

He was your best friend. You wanted to talk to him about your newest date but you also needed to act cool and casual.

You failed miserably at both of those things.

In fact you almost had a heart attack when he kissed your forehead for the first time.

He was yet to actually kiss you.

Which was good because it meant he liked you enough to listen and wanted to be around you without getting into your pants but you wanted him in your pants.

Which brought you to the present.

You were currently standing outside of his room - having knocked - waiting for a response.

“Lo, it's me.” You called through the wooden door.

“Come in.” He answered, slightly muffled.

You entered the room, he wasn't in view but the door leading to the bathroom was open, and flopped onto his bed. Letting out an exaggerated sigh - definitely not to inhale his smell - you spoke against his duvet, “I'm bored.”

“Yeah?” His footsteps got closer and you lifted your head and took a double take.

The fucker was glistening, a towel sitting far too low on his hips. His torso was gorgeous, he looked spectacular. He had strong pecs and chiselled abs, dusted with a coating of soft hair and there was one vein that disappeared into the towel that you ached to lick.

“Bub?” When your forced your eyes onto his face you saw a cocky grin.

“Yes?” You blunk, trying to figure out if he had spoken anything else. How long had you been ogling him?

A droplet of water fell from his hair and ran down his neck, passed his pecs and journeyed further- no! Don't look again.

Do not get caught twice!

“It should be illegal to look like you.” You spoke to your hands. They were resting on the duvet where your face had been.

“Kettle. Pot. Black.” One of his hands settled onto the towel, he usually had a belt to hold, so the movement could've been innocent but with the way his eyes scanned you, you knew it wasn't.

You eased yourself up, sitting on your folded legs and stared at him. Maybe you shouldn't. No either way you win. Either you call his bluff or... “You got a condom?”

The smile could've split his face in half, he licked his teeth, walking closer to the bed. Leaning down to open his bedside table he presented you with an unopened pack.

“Just for you.”

“I feel so special.”

Logan's right hand met your cheek and his thumb caressed the flesh. He was taller than you in this position so he lent down to kiss you. He was slow about it, giving you time to back out, but once his lips met yours he fastened the pace.

Your hands didn't know where to rest. One was fiddling with his chest hair whilst the other clawed at his back. You didn't want to be the one who disrobes their partner after less than thirty seconds of kissing but there was no robe. Can't disrobe someone who isn't wearing one, right? A mere piece of fabric barely covered him.

Oh my god.

He was naked.

Naked under the towel.

Fuck.

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you eagerly allowed access. Logan's chest rumbled, vibrating your hand, and you pulled back eyes wide.

“Do that again.”

He complied and you kissed your way along his chest. Sometimes you forgot how animalistic you were. How primal you could be.

Your cavewoman brain liked big strong man making noise.

Logan's nose nuzzled your neck, kissing your jaw and he ran his tongue across your jaw downwards to your collar bone.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you were but the steadily growing length poking your thigh made you feel better.

“I can smell you.” He ran his nose by your neck again. “Can always smell you. You're so sweet.”

“Always?” That better not be a hint.

“I know if you've been in a room.” He nipped your cheek. “I'm tuned into your frequency but now,” his voice deepened. “I can smell here.” The touch was phantom but his fingers were where you wanted him most.

You only had on a baggy shirt and ratty pj shorts so you were quick to slip out of the shorts, tossing them behind your shoulder.

“Towel.” You ordered.

“I-” He paused, conflict flashing behind his eyes. “If we start I'm not su-”

“There is nothing that could make me not want this.” You didn't know how else to say it. "I would do a lot of bad things to do a lot of bad things to your body."

He smirked and allowed you to tug on the towel, it loosening, revealing his dick.

Oh, it was fucking fantastic.

You couldn't help but kiss his abdomen, dragging your tongue along the low vein. Wrapping a hand around his length you kissed the tip and he shuddered.

“You're beautiful.” You spoke to his dick, licking the slit.

“Take your shirt off.”

You grumbled, ignoring him, and licked the underside from shaft to head.

“Y/N. Shirt. Off.” His hand held your neck, halting your movements - you were stopped, your tongue poking out just shy of him.

Pulling up you made a show of removing the shirt and his hands were instantly on you. One was at your hip whilst the other kneaded your breast. He dipped his head and captured a nipple between his teeth, making your spine arch.

“You, er, you experienced?” He questioned releasing your nipple from his lips, his eyes gazing up at you.

Why did it feel like he was embarrassed to ask?

“I've had a couple not great fucks,” You shrugged. “Prefer my own company.”

“That's about to change.” He captured your lips again.

~~

You were snuggled up in your bed watching the credits roll on a VHS you'd finally got your mitts on.

Logan slipped into your room and under the covers, wrapping a hand around your waist and dipping himself to kiss your cheek.

It was wet. Why was your cheek wet?

“Y/N?” What had happened?! Who did he have to kill?

“Spock fucking died!” You explained, frantically wiping your cheeks. “He just like sacrificed himself?”

If you had known that would happen you wouldn't have watched the movie at this particular time of the month.

Logan gave you a sympathetic noise and rolled you onto your spine, kissing your nose.

“It's okay.”

“No, it isn't.” Your eyelashes were wet but your eyes were no longer glossy. "Jim is alone, now."

"We'll get through this together."

Logan's palm found your abdomen and he kept his hand there, warmth radiating through easing some of the pain. “That's really nice.”

“I always get a fright each month when I can smell blood on you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, placing delicate kisses to your flesh.

“How was the mission?” Your lips grazed his ear.

He had told you that your neck was his favourite part of you because it smelt the most. He was eager to mark and claim your as his own because it mingled the scents and apparently that was amazing. Logan seemed to get off on your scent alone so when there were hints of him on you he was wild.

“Distracted.” He sucked the junction between neck and collar bone. He had been chosen because of his unique sense of smell. It was a gift that he could track so easily. “Could smell you on my fingers, I didn't want to get bad guy blood on my hands because it would fuck it up. You'd smell wrong.”

Your body twitched as his tongue soothed the sore flesh. “That why it took longer?”

“Hmm.” He produced a small navy box from his jeans pocket, laying it on your chest. “This is why.”

You frowned but opened the lid to see the most beautiful pair of earrings imaginable. Diamond studs, each with three individual chains dangling, covered in more diamonds.

“O-Logan?”

His face was buried into your neck for an entirely different reason now. It was fucking adorable that this big strong man still blushed around you. “Was gonna wait til your birthday but…”

“Thank you, Lo.” You kissed where you could reach on his cheek. “They're beautiful.”

“I brought them because…” He pulled back, his hazel eyes studying your face. “I want to take you out more. Take you to places that aren't natural or manmade disasters. I want to show you off to the world. I like having you on my arm, I really want to show you off. I think we should go out more. You and me just see the world, maybe? Travel? And, well, I've also realised that I fucking love you.”

Neither of you had quite admitted that yet. There were close calls where you almost did after a bad mission but it felt wrong to tell him on your deathbed. Felt like you'd cheat him. He deserved more than a ‘hi and bye’.

“I love you, too. I think I might even love you more, Logan.” Your fingers stroked his temple, gruff hair itching your hand.

He let out a sigh of relief and you almost laughed because how could you not replicate the feelings? Then you considered the way he rambled. How much this must have meant to him, he always wanted to do it right; to make sure everything was perfect for you but it was when he stuttered and said things out of order that you really saw how much he cared. He was unable to form literate sentences because he loved you so deeply. That was true, real love. Not the smooth talking, lady killers in the movies.

“No you don't.” He pecked your forehead.

~~

“Who wants to see me kick Mr Logan's ass?” You cockily placed your hands on your hips.

Logan was standing next to you, hands in his hoodie pockets.

He was wearing matching grey sweatpants and you were dying. How did grey sweats look that good?

“He can't die.” Marcus - a little shit - sassed. “What's the point in fighting someone that can't die?”

“Well, self defence isn't about killing.” You set him straight. “It is about protecting yourself. Being able to keep yourself safe in this world is the most powerful thing you'll ever learn.” Hopefully, they would never know the hopelessness you felt when that collar locked around your neck, hopefully they could live in peace. Live freely.

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“She's right, kid.” Logan backed you up. “There's a lot to fighting that isn't killing. I've been around a long time, I'd know.”

“Then shouldn't you fight someone more evenly matched?” He raised a brow. You knew this was coming. He had grown up in a very strict household. His parents were cultists, if he hadn't been a mutant he would've been the next leader. Shame. Women were beneath men in his eyes - which wasn't necessary his fault and you were trying to carefully show him but the fucker was pissing you off.

“She's kicked my ass more than any other opponent.” Logan shrugged playfully but you could see the twitch of his jaw.

“That's because you fight often. It's a matter of quantity and not quality.”

“Okay.” You clapped your hands before the kid would get on Logan's nerves. “Who wants to show me their skills?”

The lesson went smoothly after that. You saw a lot of potential in Erica and begged Winston to keep practising.

Marcus refused to show you - or anyone - his ability.

You had assumed it was because ‘mutant is wrong’ was drilled into him as a child but perhaps he just didn't trust you. You'd have to figure out how to bring him out of that shell.

The students left your class with a varying amount of glee.

“I don't know how you're so nice.” Logan lit a cigar. “You just put this smile on and keep going.”

“He's a kid.” You answered. “A stupid kid but a kid.”

“I think we're evenly matched.” He winked.

You scoffed and tidied away some of the equipment.

It was nagging at you.

It had been all class.

‘I've been around a long time’

Yeah, you knew.

Everyone knew.

But woul-would you be old and shrivelled and he'd still be the same?

Would he look at you in disgust once you started greying?

“What's the most dead you've been?” The words were sudden and far from eloquent.

Logan blinked, his brows meeting. “The most dead I've been?”

You nodded.

He pondered the question. “I was a skeleton at one point. My skin and organs regrew it was trippy.”

You considered the answer.

He could literally operate as a skeleton and you were out for a week because of a bad cold.

Was this the first chip?

Was this something that would slowly become a larger crack?

Would your relationship survive this?

You plastered a grin on your face. “Okay.”

~~

“Hey handsome!” You strutted straight up to Logan. He looked amazing, wearing a dark button down and black dress trousers. You wanted to take him straight upstairs.

“Baby.” His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, kissing your hairline before reconnecting with Kurt.

You didn't catch what they were talking about, too drunk to care but sober enough to nod along when they looked at you.

Kurt poked your nose before he disappeared and you sneezed.

“Bless you.” Logan bent his neck to look at your scrunched face.

“That was so tickly.” You rubbed your nose, hoping your makeup stayed in place.

“Have I told you you look beautiful tonight?”

“Only a thousand times.” You grinned upwards, tiptoeing to capture his lips. “I know it's Hank's birthday but you look so yummy. Want to take you upstairs.”

Logan growled at your words, wrapping his other hand around you, “I won't say no.”

“Let's go then.” You kissed his chin.

“Hey lovebirds!” Bobby called across the room. “I need another teammate.”

“Go on.” Logan nudged you, you had all night and the rest of your life to fuck. Maybe you should enjoy your friends company. Linger in the room too long. “You'll be terrible but it'll be fun to watch.”

He was standing next to Sunspot at one end of a Beer Pong match. Jubilee, Kitty and Rogue were at the other.

You mock gasped but knew he was right.

The game was rigged, you were sure of it. You had to drink every time and barely managed one cup. Logan took pity on you after the second beer and downed your drinks, the others weren't best pleased but no one was going to argue with the Wolverine about his girl.

It was so good to let loose.

After having your hysterectomy and being without your best friend for months this was bliss.

You hadn't realised how much he was a part of you. Removing him from your life left it cold and empty.

It was cliché but you had slowly tumbled into a depression without him. Much like any teenage lead in a shitty romcom being without your boyfriend was agony.

He understood your reasoning, didn't condone the actions but was able to see it from your perspective.

You were rarely allowed to be out of his eyeshot, now. He had become even more protective of you, wanting you to feel loved and supported even if you told him you didn't need that. He wanted you to come to him with any issue, to trust him, no matter how big or small.

And you wanted to be strong.

You wanted to prove that you were okay.

But being carried up to bed and coddled was fucking lovely.

“It's Alice in Chains!” You excitedly clapped Logan's arm. He had played you this song more than once, you think it was called Nutshell. Did Hank borrow some of your CDs? “This is your favourite song!”

He smirked. “Not my favourite but it's a good one.” He wrapped himself around your body, his front to your back, watching Jubilee sink one for Bobby.

“What is your favourite song?”

He hummed and you felt his shoulders move. “I don't know, I'd have to think on it.”

Okay, you'd allow that. It wasn't an easy question so you reworded it. “If you were dying right now what would you want to listen to?”

“You humming in the kitchen.” He answered without a second thought.

You giggled, turning in his hold. “No, come on, seriously.”

He rest his forehead against yours. “When you hummed Elvis… making those flapjacks… the sun was-it made you look ethereal, you were an angel. I want that.”

You remembered that day. Everything had gone wrong even though you followed the recipe to a tee! He had walked in on you mid tantrum and made life better. If he thought you looked angelic covered in sugar and chocolate then imagine what he thought when you made an effort.

“You always leave me speechless.”

He kissed your temple.

~~

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow.” You spoke seriously.

Logan looked up from the papers he was grading. His eyes squinting slightly in a silent question.

“I never meant to cause you any pain.” You injected sadness into your voice, it cracked slightly.

“What's happening?” He looked really worried, taking off his reading glasses.

“I only wanted one time to see you laughing.” You used your hands animatedly.

“Y/N?”

“I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “You had me worried. I was trying to figure out if I'd missed a birthday or an anniversary.”

“I can't grade these papers. The song is rattling around in my head.” You thunked your head against the desk. “Why did we say we'd help Jean again?”

“You told her you could grade more papers in a day then she could.”

“Pathetic fallacy this, juxtaposition that.” You groaned. “Why do I get so competitive?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke honestly. “We could be spending our evening any other way but you have us reading shitty analysises on An Inspector Calls.”

You didn't answer him. You wouldn't let him goad you. Wouldn't stoop to his level, despite wanting so badly to stoop in front of him. Biting the inside of your cheek you stood. “Nope, sorry, I have to play the record.”

He watched you wander to the shared pile of music. Your LPs and his CDs intermingled in the corner of his room.

“Is the Prince album in here?” You flicked through the LPs.

“All our music is. Did you let anyone borrow it?”

“I don't know.” You knelt, opening the cupboard underneath the record player, he panicked, jumping up.

“Don't look in-”

“Ha!” You waved the cover smiling but your enthusiasm ebbed away making room for suspicion. “Don't look in here?”

A hand stretched his face. “Please don't ask questions.”

“If you're hiding a present somewhere make sure it's not somewhere I'd look, Howlett.” You closed the doors. “That's like the first rule.”

“I don't have that many hiding places.” He defended. “We live together.”

That was technically true and untrue.

You still had a room.

You just spent most of your time in his.

“I can vacate i-”

“Shut up.” He took the record from your hands and secured the vinyl onto the spindle and placed the needle accordingly. He flipped the machine on and the last chords of ‘baby I'm a star’ played before the familiar strum.

He offered you his palm and you took it, easing up from the floor. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

The two of you swayed to the music. It was the last song on this side of the record so you'd have to change it soon but just leaning against him, listening to Prince sing and play his guitar was heavenly.

Logan's nose was buried in your hair. He would tell you later on that he wouldn't have minded if you found what he was hiding.

He would've just got down on his knee then and there.

He didn't want to propose publicly but he wanted to make the day special. Make you feel loved like you deserved.

\\

“Y/N?” You turned your head. You were upstairs. Outside of Logan's room.

It was empty. Unoccupied.

“Storm.” She looked amazing. Had she even aged? Maybe she was born later in this universe.

“The professor asked me to check on you.” She spoke with ease but it wasn't the friendly chatter you were used to.

“Yeah sorry, I've just been wandering like a ghost around this mansion.” Your cheeks warmed. “I'm absolutely fine, though, thank you for checking up on me.”

Part 14

@littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @twinkywink @ravenmedows @electricreader @racetrackheart @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik dares to dream.

CW: none, a little suggestive at the end.

Price and Nik sit in Price's bunk in their boxers. It's a compromise; Nik's managed to get Price out of his office with only a single folder of paperwork and a half-chewed biro. Just one more form, Nik. It'll keep me ahead tomorrow.

It's a delicate operation, prying John Price out of his office and his clothes. To hang Captain Price on the coat hook for the night, to let John stretch his legs. Slowly, slowly.

Nik sits patiently at John's back, nosing the soft hairs at the base of his neck, savouring the awful cologne he insists on wearing while on base. He needed a better one, really, and Nik had spent half an hour in a 'John Lewis' pawing over scents a week or so ago. A very flowery woman had overwhelmed him with smelly strips of cardboard and jargon he didn't recognise, so that had been mission failed. He did consider asking Farah or Iskra for help, but... Eh, Nik could tolerate the musky shit.

John's hair is scruffy and Nik knows he only has about a day to enjoy it before John goes and gets it cut back into regulation tidiness. Soap has a nickname for it; short, back and slap? Or was it... short, slap and twat? Back and... hmm, Nik can't remember.

But he does know he prefers John like this.

Ruffled, unkempt, just as he looks when they're off grid; rough stubble, scruffy hair, sweat and gun oil, his blue eyes bright, wild. Alive. So confident, lethal, and... Hmm, now what did Ghost call it? Ballsy.

"Da."

"Hm?" John doesn't look up from his paperwork, chewed pen scratching away.

"Ahh, sorry. I was... hmm, mechta. To have dreams that are awake."

"Hm," John huffs softly, shoulders lifting in a half shrug, "a daydream."

"Daydream," Nik repeats, resting his nose against the back of John's neck. He decides he doesn't mind the bad cologne, or the loss of the scruffy hair; he can't have John naked and warm against him when they're in the field. Of course, Nik would be lying if he said he hadn't fantasised about sex in his helicopter. Maybe, one day...

Nik moves over to John's shoulders and spends some time admiring another favourite thing. Something he can only enjoy in these moments when the world is locked out, and danger is a million miles away.

The freckles.

When he'd been a boy, his grandmother had likened them to kisses from angels, and Nik quite liked the idea that some were watching over John when he couldn't be, leaving their footprints on his skin beneath his Kevlar vest. He shifts closer, runs the backs of his fingers down John's spine to settle his hand at his waist, and noses those freckles with a contented hum.

He imagines John in the sun, perhaps on a beach in Croatia or Montenegro. Nik's always liked that part of the world; it lacked the touristy aftertaste of the coastal towns in the Mediterranean, and maintained some of its unique character. They could take a boat out to the sunken wrecks in search of ancient pottery and glass, swim in the Adriatic with the reef sharks and turtles, visit the museum full of maritime weaponry and stories of pirates, and each day John's skin would sprout more freckles for Nik to kiss.

He kisses them now. Languid, lingering. His thumbs stroke in circles, and Nik closes his eyes with the taste of John's skin in his mouth. They would drink good beer, smoke good cigars, sit together at the end of the pier in Dubrovnik perhaps and watch the lights twinkle on the surface of the ocean, John's hair would be ruffled and soft with sun and sea salt. He'd laugh, relaxed and unbothered, no paperwork. Half cut, they would stagger back to their hotel, and Nik would--

"Nik."

Nik blinks. He can see the side of John's face where he's turned to look over his shoulder. There's a hand over his at John's waist, goosebumps over John's shoulders and down his biceps. The biro sits forgotten on the manilla folder.

"Da."

"You were holdin' tight. Want to tell me about these daydreams?"

Nik feels his ears warm, and perhaps his sheepish response gives John the wrong idea. "One day they might not be dreams. I will keep them as a surprise."

"You dirty bastard..."

"They were not dirty! Eh, not all of them."

"Don't believe you, mate. Too much filth for you to even tell me about. Shocking."

"Chtob u tebya hui vo lbu vyros, Price! Your mind is in the gutter."

Nik grabs John around the middle and pulls him back into a tight embrace. He tries to gain the upper hand with a grapple, but John takes up the challenge and they tussle for some minutes, giggling and guffawing like schoolboys. The folder and pen scatter onto the floor, along with the blankets and a pillow.

Nik gains the upper hand through sheer bulk, and because he's not afraid to play dirty and grab at John's underarms, making him bunch up and wriggle in surrender. Still far too honourable in the bedroom. They settle into a kiss, Nik's arm curled beneath John's head to keep it tucked close, one of John's legs trapped in his. He slides a hand down the curve of John's body and into his boxers.

The first gasps are always the sweetest; John's always so surprised by pleasure, sometimes tries to cling onto the gruff, abrasive masculinity he uses as a shield from the world, but Nik knows how to handle him, how to coax him open. His body relaxes, his legs spread and he buries his hand in Nik's hair, chasing kisses and touches like a man starved.

One day, Nik promises himself, he will have John like this every night and in the morning he will not have to rebuild his walls again. One day. Hm. A man can dream.