#them being all ^-^ at each other while sparks fly between them

[celuere]

So reading Blunt Rotation gave me the idea of Arle and another Woman (doesn't matter who) passing Fem reader back and forth, repeatedly shotgunning Her until she's on cloud 9 and then passing Her back and forth on their Straps/Cocks.

(totally get if Intox if that level isn't your thing, you just gave me major Brainworms)

Uhm… ARLEZANI- OH MY GOD WHO SAID THAT??????

Just two handsome women passing you back and forth on their dicks like it‘s daily routine, your cunt stuffed with their mixed cum as you lay between them, a fucked out mess, as you watch them pass the singular blunt around, occasionally leaning down to exhale the sweet smoke right into your mouth before two strong hands drag you back onto her lap. Zani usually has a hard time staying hard after an orgasm but you make it so incredibly easy for her. Unlike Peruere she isn’t tattooed on multiple places, but she does have a nose piercing. One that makes her all the more attractive. The kind of attractive that makes her irresistible, almost as addicting as the herbs they‘ve been smoking in a straight line.

„Hm… still dripping from us…? Poor thing…“, a steady hand would guide you by your ass over her dripping cockhead, a tail wrapping around your fragile body that’s been beyond drained of its energy. But the painful ache between your quivering thighs just doesn’t seem to stop. Even after them taking turns with your mouth- hands fisting your hair as they pushed their cock past your lips… you couldn’t help but yearn for more.

Reminder to share a blunt with them more often when you were supposed to study together.

You could still feel Peruere‘s two Frenulum Piercings rubbing against your g-spot as her biceps strained when she pushed your legs all the way up to your chest. The way she folded you in half on the mattress while you had to watch Zani‘s hand fly over her own dick. Her breathing was heavy with a tail that couldn’t seem to hold still, swaying around from side to side. Just the sight of this pretty woman‘s pussy getting blown to pieces by her friend- god, it was beautiful. But maybe that was just the weed kicking in.

You forgot about condoms but frankly you also couldn’t care less. Just the feeling of their mixed cum getting pushed out with each thrust back into your stuffed pussy was enough to send you down a spiral of ecstasy. The way Peruere’s lips connected with your neck for millionth time tonight as Zani‘s hands pushed you in and off her dick before the entomology student helped her take another hit of the almost finished joint. Just so you had to watch them stick their tongues down each others throat as the smoke slowly passed through Zani‘s nose. It sparked a little bit of jealousy inside of you, watching them get intimate with each other despite you being right there. Placed on her dick. It didn’t take them long before their attention was fixed back on you with Peruere smoothly pulling you into a jaw-breaking kiss by your chin after making a remark about „How greedy you were getting.“ as you simultaneously felt a slim tail wrapping around your waist, the ace-shaped end making an effort to brush over your already hardened nipple

Of course, you couldn’t please only one person at a time. Wrap your hand around Peruere‘s dirtied dick. Let the pearly mixture leaking from her tip coat your hand as you tried your best to get her off despite your brain being reduced to mush. And it would work. Twitching in between your grip, the sensitive flesh pulsating underneath your touch, a tattooed hand fumbling with your tits as the other one got a good grip on your neck.

Your college funds were definitely well spent.

[aresmarked]

kanamafu anon again! thank you for the lovely response! here’s an imo trickier niigo question: what do you think of ena’s dad?

i often see fans blow his shittiness out of proportion, like making him a physical abuser to the whole family or acting like he’s always been unsupportive when the text itself says he was supportive of ena’s art when she was a little kid. i agree that he’s shitty, but part of me thinks that… his relationship with ena can be salvaged, somehow? i know other fans wont forgive him even if he and ena get closure, which is fine, but i dont really feel that way? i keep trying to ask myself what sets him apart from, say, mafuyu’s mom in my mind, when they both say harsh things to their kids in an attempt to “protect” them. it’s like my brain’s really clinging to that part about how he wasn’t always like this, unlike mafuyu’s mom who has always used guilt tripping to control mafuyu. but maybe that’s silly of me, dunno. part of me thinks he’s just an emotionally stunted old man who is piss poor at phrasing things and that he just has some serious growing to do to salvage this, but then again maybe he shouldntve been a parent before that point and he still sucks because, again, he at least had the sense to not say “this art is shit” to, like, a seven year old so maybe it IS his fault? i do consider myself a fan of his character so i ponder this a lot. given your insight about mafuyu’s mom, though, i was just curious as to what you thought!

...Hfhfhf, almost right out of the gate with the essay questions. Hm.

I'd break my thoughts up about him into a few main points, but TL;DR if I knew a parent like this I'd go out of the way to make sure the kid gets some positive feedback from me, but he's a character/parent i could see improving in time.

He's one of those guys who's good at his craft but terrible at teaching. (You see these sorts a decent amount, for better or worse). While he had valid points, the way he chose to 'advise' isn't great. if a parent said something like that around me about one of their kids i'd have a Hard time reining it in.

As remarked upon in the game itself, he didn't talk to Ena as his daughter, but more as another artist, and moreover, I'd say, an adult artist. A few additional words would've made a huge difference in how Ena walked away from that conversation. like 'right now'. or advice on, y'know. what to actually work on. see point one again.

The major difference between him and Mafumom is that he does consider Ena's wishes, not hindering her from going into the arts, and not inserting himself where he's very much not wanted. He does respect what Ena wants to do.

Doesn't stop him having done a wrong and needing to repair that, to move forward. People are full of faults and strengths and I appreciate PSekai actually writing people with those. parents with those. it makes us feel even more strongly for ena cause yeah, a parent's mistake hurts a Lot! It makes a better tale cause it's real!

That said, while I think it's possible for Ena and her dad to potentially mend their relationship, as you say, such a mending will take time to believable and acceptable I think, not just to readers but to Ena. She's got no real interest in mending their familial relationship right now. and a 'forgive your parents' plotline when said parent hasn't taken real steps to actually mend the familial relationship would just be. so tired. that grounds been trod a thousand times. 'You'll understand when you're older'. i hate those plots where the kid forgives their parents without the parents really doing anything to reflect on their actions. the fact it's still a bit of a revolution when a parent does admit they've done wrong speaks mountains.

[suncoved]

RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?

prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”

you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.

kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.

but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.

you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.

sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.

you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.

and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.

beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.

"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.

you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.

"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."

your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.

he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.

you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.

you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"

your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.

"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.

you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.

you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.

honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.

though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.

he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.

it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.

there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.

yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.

"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.

he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"

you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.

"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.

"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.

you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.

you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.

he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.

you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.

your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.

rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.

he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.

"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.

"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.

"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.

it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.

"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.

a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.

rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.

you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.

you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.

"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.

"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.

"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.

"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.

"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.

rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.

“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"

[goldfades]

THERE'S HOLY GROUND BENEATH THEM, AND SPARKS FLY WHEN THEY KISS──BUECKERS⁵

for this request!

─ summary | you & paige have been together for a while, and you know nothing could come between you two—even distance itself.

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ word count | 1.8k

─ warnings | just fluff! paige being clingy af

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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It’s early morning when you wake to the soft rise and fall of Paige’s breath next to you. The sun barely peeks through the blinds, casting gentle lines of light across her face. You can't help but smile as you watch her, peaceful and completely at ease, as if the world outside doesn’t exist for a moment. It’s these quiet mornings you love the most—just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

You reach out, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and a sleepy smile spreads across her lips.

“Morning,” she murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep.

"Morning," you whisper back, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Paige shifts closer to you, her arm sliding around your waist, pulling you against her. You can feel her warmth seep into you, and for a second, you close your eyes, soaking it all in.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” she admits softly, her breath warm against your skin.

It’s something she says often, almost like a reflex—a reminder of the way her past relationships left her unsure, hesitant. But you know her better now. You know how far she’s come, how much you’ve both learned together.

“Me neither,” you reply with a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against hers. “But we’re figuring it out, aren’t we?”

Paige nods, a small, determined smile playing at her lips. You can feel the tension that still lingers sometimes, the quiet fears she doesn’t always speak aloud. But you’ve made it clear from the start—this is new for both of you, and you’re in it together.

“I’m glad it’s with you,” she says after a beat, her voice soft but sure.

And in that moment, wrapped in the safety of her arms, you know without a doubt—nothing could ever come between you.

───

When Paige has to leave for away games, you can always tell something’s off before she even says a word. She tries to hide it, but you see it in the way she lingers just a little longer when you hold her, in the tight squeeze of her arms around you when she pulls you in for a hug. The way her fingers stay tangled with yours as if she’s afraid to let go, like if she holds on long enough, maybe time will stretch, and she won’t have to leave just yet.

The night before she leaves, you find her sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the duffel bag that’s only half-packed. Her shoulders are slumped, her usual easy confidence replaced by something softer, quieter. You step closer, leaning against the doorframe, watching her for a moment. She doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in thought.

“Hey,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

Paige turns, her blue eyes lifting to meet yours, and though she smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hey.”

You walk over, sliding into the space next to her on the bed. Without a word, you take her hand in yours, feeling the warmth of her palm against yours, the way her thumb absentmindedly traces circles on your skin.

“You’re not even packed yet,” you tease gently, trying to lighten the mood. “What happened to Paige Bueckers, always ready for anything?”

She lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and almost reluctant. “I know, I just… I hate leaving.”

“I know,” you murmur, resting your head on her shoulder. “But it’s only a few days. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Paige nods, but you can feel the tension in her body, the way her jaw clenches ever so slightly. She’s not great at talking about it, the way leaving you behind makes her feel. She’s always been independent, fiercely so, but when it comes to you, something shifts. There’s a vulnerability in her that only you see, a softness she keeps guarded from the rest of the world.

“It’s just…” she starts, and then stops, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t like being away from you.”

You tilt your head up, looking at her as her brow furrows in that way it does when she’s trying to find the right words. She’s always been better at showing you how she feels than saying it. Her love comes in the quiet moments, in the way she slips an arm around your waist when you’re making coffee, or how she sneaks kisses against your temple when you’re focused on something else. But now, she’s trying to put it into words, and you can see how much it’s weighing on her.

“I know it’s my job,” Paige continues, her voice a little rougher, “and I love playing, I really do. But I hate leaving you here. Every time I’m on the road, I just… I don’t know. It’s like a part of me is missing.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, and you squeeze her hand a little tighter. “I miss you too,” you say quietly, because it’s true. Every time she’s away, the apartment feels a little emptier, quieter. You find yourself glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until she’s back, until you can hear her laugh in person again, see the way her eyes light up when she talks about her game.

“But,” you add, nudging her lightly, “you know I’m always watching, right? Every single game, I’m right there, cheering you on.”

Paige’s expression softens at that, the corners of her lips turning up just slightly. “Yeah, I know. I always try to play my best ‘cause I know you’re watching.” She lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s weird, but even when I’m on the court, I think about you. Like, I can’t wait to get back and tell you everything. How the game went, the plays we ran… I don’t know. I just always want to talk to you after.”

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. You can picture it so clearly—Paige out there, focused and driven, pushing herself to her limits not just for the love of the game, but because she knows you’re at home, glued to the screen, living every moment with her.

“That’s because I’m your biggest fan,” you say, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

She finally grins, that familiar Paige smile that lights up her whole face. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” you admit, laughing softly. “But it’s true. You’re amazing, Paige. And I’ll always be here, waiting for you when you get back.”

Paige shifts so she can wrap her arms around you, pulling you close until you’re resting against her chest. You feel her chin rest on top of your head, the steady beat of her heart beneath your ear. She holds you like she never wants to let go, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside the two of you falls away, and all that’s left is this—the warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her skin, the way she makes you feel safe and loved.

Eventually, she breaks the silence, her voice soft and sincere. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm. “I love you too.”

Paige holds you a little tighter, and you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence, as if neither of you can bear to let the moment slip away.

By the time she’s finally packed and ready to go the next morning, there’s a quiet resolve in her. You stand by the door, watching as she throws her bag over her shoulder, her posture more confident now, like she’s mentally gearing up for the game. But before she leaves, she turns to you, eyes soft, and steps close, cupping your face in her hands.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she promises, and this time, you can tell she believes it.

You nod, leaning into her touch. “I’ll be here.”

With one last kiss, she’s gone, and the apartment feels empty without her. But even as she leaves, you know that no matter how far away she is, she’s still with you. You’ll be watching her from home, cheering her on, and when she’s back, you’ll be right here, waiting—like always.

───

The reporter steps in, microphone in hand, with the cameras rolling. Paige wipes the sweat from her brow and takes a deep breath, flashing that signature smile, the one you know so well, but there’s still that softness underneath—reserved, a little shy when the attention is focused on her, even after all these years.

"Paige, another incredible performance tonight! You led your team with 28 points, 8 assists, 4 steals—you were unstoppable out there. How do you keep finding ways to take over like this?"

Paige chuckles, her eyes flickering down for a second as if she’s still processing it all. "Uh, honestly, it’s just about staying focused. My teammates make it easy for me, and I’m just trying to do my part to help us win."

The reporter nods, grinning. "You’ve had quite the season so far, but tonight, something felt different—you were playing with so much energy. Anything in particular motivating you tonight?"

There’s a small pause, and then Paige’s smile shifts, her eyes softening in a way that’s familiar to you. The crowd noise fades in the background as she takes a moment before answering.

"Yeah, uh, there’s always one person who’s got my back no matter what," Paige says, her voice steady but full of emotion. "Even when I’m out there on the road, I know she’s at home, watching, supporting me every second. That makes all the difference." She looks directly into the camera, her smile widening.

"So this one’s for you," she continues, and your heart skips a beat. "You know who you are. Thank you for always being there for me, for believing in me—even when I’ve had doubts. You’re the reason I can go out there and play my best. Every game, every shot, I think about coming home to you. I love you."

The reporter grins, picking up on the moment. "Sounds like you’ve got quite the support system off the court as well."

Paige laughs, a little embarrassed but glowing. "Yeah, well I’m really lucky. She means everything to me."

You can feel your cheeks heat up even though Paige isn’t there with you. Hearing her say it, in front of the cameras, in front of everyone—it’s a reminder of just how deep this connection goes. You’ve always known how much you mean to her, but hearing her speak about you like this, with so much love and gratitude, makes your chest swell with pride.

The interview wraps up, and as Paige waves to the fans and heads back toward the locker room, you sit there, staring at the screen, heart full. The game may be over, but the way Paige looks at you, even from a distance, reminds you that you’re always with her—on the court, off the court, and everywhere in between.

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[thewulf]

Easy Skies || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake.

A/N: Ahhh sorry I've been gone! Been enjoying summer :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7k +

T/W : None just fluff

It’s been several weeks since you and Jake officially started seeing each other. You met at a community event honoring local heroes where Jake shared stories of his missions and the places his career had taken him. Your own interest in aerial photography sparked a quick and deep conversation between the two of you leading to an instant connection.

It was going really well. The two of you taking your time with everything. He shared stories of how we was reckless in the past and you were already very cautionary with types like his. So, you tested him a bit. Only kisses on the cheek, nothing more. And he did passed with flying colors. He never pressured you, never pushed for more. But now you were ready for something more. You're spending a lazy Sunday at Jake’s apartment for the first time. His place reflects his life as a pilot. It was decorated with navigational charts. With different models of aircraft he’s flown and photographs from around the world. The walls hold framed maps marked with the various places he's visited, each one holding a story he's eager to share with you.

As the afternoon fades into evening, you both settle into the comfortable couch in his living room. The soft music playing in the background mixes with the mellow golden light streaming through the windows creating a serene atmosphere. It's a rare and quiet moment for Jake who is usually caught up in the demanding schedule of a Navy pilot. You cherish the peaceful intimacy that has formed between you. Today’s simplicity is a precious contrast to the complexities of your usual routines.

As you both relax into the couch Jake recounts a comical error from his last training exercise. He'd accidentally swapped his day’s checklist with another pilot’s which led to some light-hearted confusion and teasing from his crew.

“You seriously went through half the pre-flight with the wrong list?” you laugh while shaking your head in amusement.

“Yep,” Jake admits with a grin. “It was only when I called out the wrong coordinates that someone caught on. We all had a good laugh about it later.” The conversation winds down as you both sink into the rhythm of each other’s presence, comfortable and at ease. There’s a genuine simplicity in the way you interact, no need for constant chatter. Jake’s job as a pilot often surrounds him with high stakes and rigor making these peaceful moments particularly valuable.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being able to sit and talk without rushing anywhere,” Jake comments. His tone relaxed.

“It really is,” you agree as you smiled over at him. “Especially with good company.”

He returns your smile with a warm, appreciative one of his own. As the room fills with the soft hum of a new song the day closes around you both, cozy and familiar. Like a well-loved jacket that’s been washed a hundred times. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. And right now, it’s exactly what you both need.

As the afternoon shadows stretch across the room a yawn escapes you, shifting the comfortable silence. Jake catches it and chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Tired?” he teases before nudging you gently with his elbow.

“Maybe a little,” you admit while stretching your arms above your head. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake nods understandingly. His gaze softening. “How about we take a little nap then? Recharge a bit?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow. A smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you’re joining. I hear you’re the best pillow around here.”

Jake’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let you down then.” He shifts himself making room on the couch and pats the spot next to him "Come here," he says softly. His voice blending with the low melody. With a contented smile you slide closer until you're nestled against him. Your head resting comfortably on his broad chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart through the soft fabric of his shirt. A reassuring rhythm that echoes quietly in your ear. Jake's arm wraps securely around you with his hand resting gently on your back. The warmth of his touch and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes bring an overwhelming sense of peace and safety.

For a few moments you simply listen, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, steady breaths he draws. It's a new level of intimacy of sharing this quiet closeness without the need for words. Jake's hand moves in slow, soothing strokes across your back further relaxing you. With each passing second the world beyond the walls of Jake’s apartment seems to drift further away. You're drawn into this serene bubble where the only things that matter are the soft fabric of the couch, the gentle caress of Jake's hand, and the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Jake breaks the silence with a whisper that's barely audible over the music. "This is nice," he murmurs. His breath tickling your ear. You hum in agreement as you were too content and relaxed to form words. The trust and affection in this simple act of cuddling deepen, marking a beautiful, quiet milestone in your growing relationship.

As the soft jazz continues to play creating a soothing backdrop, the room grows quieter still. The comfort of Jake’s embrace coupled with the warm, gentle atmosphere lulls you deeper into relaxation. His breathing becomes slower, more rhythmic, signaling his own descent into sleep. You feel his grip tighten just a bit. A subconscious affirmation of his presence and protection. Gradually, the space between wakefulness and sleep blurs. Your thoughts drift away, anchored only by the steady heartbeat beneath your ear. In the safety of Jake’s arms sleep seems like the most natural progression. Without planning it you both drift off. The world narrowing down to the couch where you lie together.

The nap isn't long but it’s restorative. Exactly what you needed. As you both sleep there’s an unspoken exchange of trust and comfort. It’s one thing to share conversations and activities but another to share such vulnerability as sleep in each other’s presence. This mutual comfort speaks volumes about the trust and closeness developing between you.

Time slips by quietly and when you eventually stir it’s to the feeling of Jake’s fingers lightly brushing through your hair. His movements are soft and careful, designed not to wake you but to reassure himself you’re still there. You open your eyes slowly meeting his gaze which is filled with a quiet joy.

“Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the peaceful moment you've shared.

“Hey,” you respond with your voice just as soft. The simple exchange feels like a gentle reconnection to the world affirming the comfort and affection that wrapped around you both as you slept. The nap together was simple yet intimate. It deepens the connection between you. Each quiet breath shared adding another layer to your growing relationship.

The afternoon light has softened into a cozy twilight by the time you both stir from your nap. You’re still wrapped in Jake’s arms and as your eyes meet there’s a playful spark between you that feels both exciting and comforting. “Welcome back,” Jake murmurs. His voice low and slightly husky from sleep. He leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then one on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle.

“Is that how you wake up all your guests?” you tease. Your voice light and tinged with laughter.

“Only the special ones,” he replies with a grin with his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t stop there though. His kisses wander from your cheek to your jawline, each peck light and teasing, drawing more giggles from you. The laughter that fills the room is warm, echoing the affectionate mood.

Jake’s playful kisses continue by tracing a path down the side of your neck, sending a shiver of delight through you. You can’t help but catch him by the collar before pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave this couch,” you laugh while still holding onto his shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he whispers back. His voice playful yet sincere. Then in a swift, fluid motion he captures your lips with his in a kiss that’s deeper and more intentional than the playful ones before. This kiss feels like a culmination of all the gentle pecks, each one adding a layer to the profound connection you’re building together.

As you break away there’s a shared smile. A mutual understanding of the affection and joy weaving through each interaction, each touch, each kiss. The playfulness adds a lightness to your relationship. He made moments like these not just romantic but genuinely fun, enriching the bond you share with laughter and love. After the laughter subsides and the atmosphere settles into a comfortable quiet, Jake looks at you with a contented smile. His eyes reflecting a gentle appreciation. "These moments with you. They're the highlight of my week," he says quietly. His voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Feeling a warm glow from his words you nod and smile softly. Your response understated but genuine. "It always feels different when I'm with you. It's easy, you know?" Your words are simple, echoing the straightforwardness of your time together.

Jake's response is a nod, his smile lingering. "Let's keep it that way," he replies. His agreement simple yet full of promise. The conversation feels natural, reflecting the comfort and understated affection that characterizes your relationship. As twilight transitions into the deep blue of night neither of you feels ready to break the comfortable cocoon you've formed on the couch. Jake glances at the clock, then back at you with a playful challenge in his eyes.

"How about we order some dinner?" he suggests. His tone casual but hopeful. "I'm not quite ready for this day to end. But I don’t think I can get up quite yet."

You laugh while agreeing instantly. "Sounds perfect. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza okay with you?" Jake asks already reaching for his phone to place the order.

"Always a good choice," you reply settling back against his chest while feeling utterly at ease.

The wait for the food is filled with more soft conversations. Each shared thought strengthening the bond between you. As the evening unfolds it becomes clear that days like these are just the beginning of what you both hope will be many more shared experiences.

When the food arrives, you set up a makeshift dining area on the coffee table, continuing the easy flow of the day into the evening. Each slice of pizza comes with stories you share. Each laugh making the room warmer. As the evening winds down, you find yourselves eagerly talking about other things you could do together, from movie nights to hiking trips. The night ends not just with satisfied appetites but with the excitement of planning future outings. It's clear that your relationship is blossoming. Full of promise for more beautiful days and nights shared in each other’s company.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - SECRET LOVE

A/N: Well, finally finished this piece. Are you excited? Another Logan one-shot? What? Yeah, I tried. It's not good but at least I put out something. Enjoy.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: some smut at the beginning, angst and fluff

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 3800+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine - always!

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - SECRET LOVE

Logan’s hand pressed against Y/N’s mouth before she could moan loudly. He was buried deep inside her when he heard Hank and Scott walk through the hallway, talking. They didn’t need to know what was happening behind his closed doors. It was too soon. They were not ready to let them into their secret relationship.

His eyes locked with her, grinning. “Careful, princess. We don’t want them to know.” He was a wicked man. He thrust his hips hard, making her huff into his palm. “Good girl,” Logan grinned at her. “Such a good fucking girl. Taking me so well while people walk behind the door.” 

This relationship had been going on for months, and no one knew. Y/N ensured neither Jean nor Charles could enter their minds and snoop around. Thank god her ability was all about protection. This was still new and exciting, and they wanted to keep it a secret until they were ready to tell everyone. Both needed to know if this thing would work out.

It started one evening. They sat in the kitchen, talked about shit and laughed while drinking beers. As time passed, they moved chairs and got closer to each other. Shortly, they were kissing, exploring their bodies and admitting their hidden feelings without the L word. 

That was months ago. Logan and Y/N managed to hide it well.

Logan let go of her mouth once he knew no one would hear her. People were gone. He grabbed both of her hands and forced them above her head, holding them firmly as he kept fucking her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. “Fuck, sweetheart, your pussy is so good,” he grunted. “You gonna come for me?” 

“Yes,” she mewled. 

He kept talking to her, praising her. One of his hands sneaked between their bodies. He found her clit, circling it to bring her closer to her peak. Logan’s mouth was hanging open, breathing hard. They both reached their climaxes, one after the other. 

When her legs let him go, he rolled right next to her, panting. “Fuck,” he cursed. 

Y/N pulled herself closer to his side, resting a hand on his hairy chest. Her fingers brushed through them. Body hair was normal and in Logan’s case, it made him hot. Bus she enjoyed the feeling of his thumping heard under that adamantium skeleton. “The thrill of being caught made it more intense,” she admitted. 

Logan pressed a kiss to her forehead and laughed. “Ah, I knew that was it. Naughty girl. Do you like that shit? Being caught?” he teased. 

“It’s… thrilling,” she admitted, biting her lower lip. “The dirty talk is a bit better, though. When you talk with that mouth of yours, it gets me going.”

He leaned closer, his lips pressing against her in a messy kiss. “My dirty girl.” 

Y/N hummed. A smile remained on her face. “Tomorrow, my room?” she asked. “Will you be waiting there when I come back from Boston?”

His eyes lost the spark. Logan sighed. She had to leave on a mission with her fellow X-men. Charles picked the three people who would fly to Boston to bring two mutant children into the school. Of course, Logan hated that he wasn’t among the chosen ones. He felt the need to be there, to protect his girlfriend. 

So he huffed. “I don’t like it when I’m not on a mission with you,” he said. “I know, I know, you are going with Storm and Scott. Yes, you are only bringing two kids to the school, who are in danger. And, fuck yes, you are a strong mutant. But, baby, I can’t help the feeling like I should go with ya.” 

“You always say that when we are not paired together,” she giggled. 

“No,” he lied. One look from her and he nodded. “Fine, yes. However, my gut is saying something to me this time. Like I should go with you.”

Y/N pushed her body up to have a better look at him. Her index finger brushed over his nose. “Logan, I’m gonna be okay,” she smiled. “If something goes to shit, I’ll protect both Scott and Storm. And, I can heal. I’m practically invincible. So stop worrying,” she giggled again and kissed the top of his nose. 

Her mutation was all about protecting others by creating forefields and protecting herself with immediate healing. So, yes, he shouldn’t worry about her. Y/N could heal just like him. But in her case, it was more magical. Little light would appear every time a wound needed to be closed.

And yet he felt fear crawling up his back. 

Her eyes sparkled as she kept looking at him. Y/N wanted to tell Logan how she felt. She had the L-word on the tip of her tongue. She had it there for days. She feared it would scare him off if she said it now. Maybe it was still too soon. Little did she know Logan felt the same. 

“What if we spend the weekend away?” His brows wiggled. “You’ll say you want to spend the weekend away and I don’t say shit because they know how I act when I’m grumpy.” 

Y/N glared at him, then laughed. “Privileged man.” The irony could be smelt in the air. It made him laugh. “To answer your question, that sounds nice. How about a weekend somewhere in the woods? A nice cabin, fresh air and just the two of us. And, you know we could be as loud as we can?” 

“Promising, promising,” he rolled over her, pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. “We’ll plan it once you are back from Boston. Your room.” 

“Deal.”

Early in the morning, Y/N got up before the whole school started to prepare for another day. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, fingers lightly brushing his hair. One more look, a smile and then she was gone.

They didn’t need anyone seeing her sneaking out of his room. This way it was a lot of fun. The truth was, there was this longing inside her. Y/N wanted to tell him how much she loved him, and how she wanted to share this relationship with the world. It was all fun and games, yes. There was this hidden desire to take the next step forward.

Another thought popped into her head. What if he wasn’t ready? What if this was not as serious for him as for her? No, that wasn’t it… Or?

With a sigh, she returned to her room and prepared for Boston. 

. . . 

Logan was on edge the whole day. He checked the time every five minutes, wishing the jet was back. He knew it was a simple rescue mission. Charles sent Y/N there to protect the team and the children if something went wrong. Where was this worry coming from? Or was this the excitement he felt towards spending more time with Y/N? What the hell was wrong with him? 

He knew he had to tell her how he felt. Maybe that’s why he was restless. He needed to confess his feelings. But would she want him? Fuck. He was overthinking their relationship. He wasn’t confident she felt the same way he did.

“You okay?” Jean's voice brought him out of his deep thoughts. 

He looked into her eyes, frowning. Then the muscles in his face loosened. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just hoping the mission is going well.” 

She smiled. “Relax. They are bringing back two children who need a safe place to grow and learn. They should be back soon.” 

Logan tried to be patient. He occupied himself with training in the danger room and planning one history lesson for the senior year. The students knew he was not his usual self. They remain silent and focused rather than get on his nerves. 

In the late afternoon, he walked through the school hallways, looking for something to distract him. Thank fucking god Charles called the rest of the X-men into his office. Even to the Professor’s surprise, Logan was the first one there.

“Ah, what a lovely change. I’m glad to see you here so fast, Logan,” Charles smiled at him. 

“Well, I happened to be close,” he said. He sat by the window where usually Y/N would stand with Rogue or occasionally next to him. 

When the rest of the X-men arrived, Charles started a discussion. “I want to throw a Christmas party for the students,” he said with a smile. “The last few years were intimate on boxing day. This year, I want a full extravaganza for them. I am talking about music, food, drinks and decorations.” 

“That’s amazing,” Rogue clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh my god, Y/N and I will take care of the decorations. I’ll talk to her about it once she arrives.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Jean smiled. “The students will love it, and it will be a change for us,” she smiled at the bald man. “If things go well, we can start a new holiday tradition.” 

“Will there be booze?” was Logan’s question. It sounded like a sigh. 

“Adults can have a beer or champagne,” said Charles. 

“Thank fucking god,” Logan praised. He wished for something stronger, but this was better than nothing. It was a small miracle. At least something that would help him get through the festivity. Beer. Well, beer and Y/N.

Charles opened his mouth to continue. No sound came out of it. His head snapped up as if he was listening and waiting for something to happen. He gasped, eyes wide. Fear appeared in his irises. Jean was immediately on her feet, running out of the office. 

“What’s going on?” Rogue voiced the question. 

That’s when the sound of the Black Bird echoed in the air. Hank now understood his presence was needed elsewhere. Logan and Rogue’s eyes met. 

“Professor,” Logan said his name firmly. He needed to get the man’s attention. “Tell us what the hell is going on. You look as if someone showed you a dead body for the first time.” Instantly, he wanted to choke on those words. Logan could sense the answer. Something terrible happened. Logan’s heartbeat fastened. The unsettling feeling crept over his body. Oh, he knew. His gut was telling him the whole time. 

A second later, Logan ran out of the office. “Logan, wait!” Rogue called after him, running as well.

When they arrived at the underground hangar, the engines of the Black Bird turned off. Jean and Hank were prepared for anything. The redhead knew what was inside the jet. 

“Jean!” Logan called her name. This was his way of wanting answers. “Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

When the rear door opened, Scott was the first to come out. His suit was torn in many places, wounds bleeding and his face bruised. Jean gasped when she saw him. It wasn’t a pretty look. “Oh my god,” she ran to him. 

“It… It was all a trick,” he said through gritted teeth. He was in a lot of pain. 

“What do you mean?” Hank asked. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Logan demanded. 

Rogue ran inside the jet. She needed to see both Storm and Y/N. 

“Scott,” Jean whispered his name, pressing a hand to his bruised cheek. She read his mind. All those horrors were now swirling inside her brain. “Oh, baby. You should have called for help.” 

“Y/N, she…” he couldn’t continue. 

That was Logan’s cue. He ran inside the jet with Hank. And there was Storm, who was on the floor with a bloody nose. Rogue was by her side, talking to the woman. Next to them, on a foldaway was Y/N’s lifeless body. 

Hank got to her first. He pressed his one blue finger on her neck. There were five seconds of silence before he shouted, “She’s alive!” 

Even Storm exhaled the breath she held. “I thought we lost her. I thought we lost her,” she repeated. “She saved us,” she mumbled. “There were so many of them.” 

“Who?” Rogue asked gently. 

“Mutant hunters,” she replied. “They used mutant children to lure us in.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks. A painful sob escaped her lips. She curled to Rogue’s side, crying. 

Logan lurched to Y/N’s body. His big hands pressed against her cheeks, stroking them. He hated this, hated seeing her unconscious. “Come on, darlin’, come back to me,” he pleaded silently. He took her into his arms bridal-style and carried her out of the jet. 

Rogue helped Storm to her feet.  Hank followed and they all exited the get. “Take her to the lab,” Hank shouted at Logan. 

Logan did as told. He brought Y/N’s body to the lab and put her on a bed. Scott was sitting on a chair beside a desk while Jean was already by the bed, hooking Y/N to a heart monitor. 

Rogue brought Storm in. She helped her onto the second bed and fetched a glass of water. The last one who arrived was Charles. He was distressed, horrified by what happened. He could read Scott and Storm’s thoughts. He saw what happened in Boston. Charles blamed himself for what happened. He should have known.

“No,” Jean turned to him. “Professor, you didn’t know,” she glared at the man. “They faked it. No one could see it coming. They had innocent mutant kids work for them.” 

“I could,” he sighed. “I should have known better, look into everyone’s minds. But I didn’t. It’s my fault Y/N is fighting for her life and Storm with Scott got injured.” 

Logan wanted to agree. He wanted to scream at him and blame the man for what happened. He kept his mouth shut and bit his tongue. Y/N wouldn’t want him to say words like that.

Jean opened the top of Y/N’s suit. “Shit,” she sighed. There were two bullet wounds - one on her right shoulder and another where her liver was. “She’s not healing.” 

Logan’s face lost all colour. “What do you mean she’s not healing? She should be!” Without thinking, he stroked her hair, leaning above her unconscious body. “Come on, darlin’. Don’t do this to me,” he pleaded. “We have things planned. You are not getting away from this.”

“Logan,” Rogue grabbed his shoulder, trying to pull him away from her. “Let them work, please.”

“No,” he growled. “I’m not leaving her. I’m staying right here with her, Rogue. I can’t let her go. I should have been with her when this happened.”

She sighed. Her touch on his shoulder tightened. “I get that she’s our friend. But Jean and Hank need to help her now. They know what they are doing. Let them work.”

Beast drew Y/N’s blood into three vials as Jean checked her wounds. Neither of them noticed her eyes open, blinking rapidly. 

She glanced from right to left, barely recognising anyone at this point. It was all mushed together, voices echo-y. The light was bright and painful. “L-Logan?” she whispered at first. When no one responded, she tried again. “Logan?” her voice was weak and raspy. 

This time everyone heard. Logan was the first one to appear above her head. All the tension that was inside him left with one loud exhale. “Darlin’,” he smiled. Logan’s fingers brushed her messy hair. “I’m here. I’m right here, baby. I’m not leavin’.”

Jean, Hank and Rogue looked at each other, noticing the words Logan used. 

Y/N’s hand tried to reach for him. He was so close yet far, and she couldn't touch him however she wished. “I…” she tried to speak. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Logan said, grabbing her hand into his big ones. “Jean and Hank will help you. You need to be strong, okay darlin’?”

A whine left her lips. She was frustrated. She couldn’t talk without energy. There was something she needed to say to him. “Logan,” Y/N huffed his name. “I… Logan, I…” Her eyes closed and opened a second later. She was losing consciousness. “I love-” she tried one more time before she could finish that important message. 

“Y/N!” he shouted her name. 

Hank grabbed Logan by his shoulders. “Give us space, Logan,” he said strictly. Hank wasn’t messing around. “We need to help her.”

“I,” he panicked. “I need to be here with her,” he defended. “Hank, you have to…” He was panicking.

The Beast somehow managed to push him to the main door. “Wait outside, Logan. Jean and I will help her. Just stay here!” With one last push, he made him stand in the hallway and the door closed to Logan’s face. 

That was it. He was there alone, locked outside to wait. And it was painful. His soul was shaking, fearing that the love of his life would die. Fuck, ‘love of his life’. At least now, he was sure his feelings for her were strong and true. Y/N was the love of his life. He only hoped he’d get to tell her those three beautiful words. All she needed to do was survive. 

Logan… I… I love- He heard her voice echo in his mind. Damn, she tried to confess. She wanted to tell him first. He punched the nearest wall, making a dent in it. 

Logan didn’t know how much time had passed. He sat on the cold hard floor, head resting on his arms. He went through a lot in his life - wars, fights, near-death moments, and yet this one was the scariest of them all. 

When the door finally opened, he didn’t register it. It was when Jean placed a hand on his shoulder, crouching next to him. “Hey,” she said softly. His head snapped up, eyes wide. She didn’t let him talk. “Y/N’s doing well. She’s asleep. But…”

He raised a brow. “But what?” 

Jean sighed. “She’s not healing, Logan. We ran some tests and discovered the bullets were tainted with a poison that wouldn’t allow her mutation to heal her. Now, it’s a waiting game. Hank is already working on a serum which will take time to make. In the meantime, we hope her body will flush the poison out of her system.” 

“Fuck, fuck!” he cursed. “I had a feeling. I knew I should have come with them. And I wasn’t there, Jean. I wasn’t there to fucking protect her. And now, we don’t know what’s gonna happen,” he snarled. He got up, fixing his jeans. 

“There’s nothing you can do now, Logan,” she said. That was the truth. “You can see her if you’d like. I know she means a lot to you.” There was a genuine smile on her face. 

Jean knew. With Y/N unconscious, she couldn’t protect her and Logan’s minds from Charles and Jean. But then again, he wasn’t very subtle about his feelings. All those nice nicknames he said also could have been a hint. 

Logan patted Jean’s shoulder as thanks and walked inside the lab. One side was all machines and computers. The other had a few beds. His eyes found Y/N resting closest to the door. His legs hesitantly moved forward, approaching her bed.  

She was like a sleeping beauty, even with her messy, tangled hair. When he saw her chest rise, he knew she was alive. He could hear her heartbeat. The sound made him relax. 

His finger brushed her cheek, feeling its warmness. “Oh, baby,” he sighed. “Wake up for me,” he pleaded. 

His eyes captured every detail of her face. The imperfections she pointed out were perfect. They made her more beautiful. He longed to see her gorgeous eyes, that smile that would brighten his day. “Come on,” he whispered. “I need to tell you something, gorgeous. You need to be up for this.”

Nothing. She remained unconscious for several more hours. 

Logan fell asleep by her side. His hand holding her, not letting go. He wanted to be, no, needed to be there when she came back to him. 

“Wakey-wakey,” he heard a soft murmur of a voice he knew. Fingers lightly brushed through his hair. He growled tiredly, frowning that someone was waking him up. “Logan,” he heard his name. It sounded like a gentle prayer. 

His eyes opened, only to be met with the gorgeous ones he loved. “Darlin’,” he gasped when he realised Y/N was awake, smiling at him. 

Logan didn’t hesitate. He pushed himself up and pressed his lips again her dry ones. He made a mental note to bring her water first thing after greetings. 

“You are up,” he exhaled deeply. “Fuck, I was so worried.” 

Her lower lip quivered. “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she whispered. The fatigue was still present on her face. 

He kissed the top of her hand. “I’m gonna get you some water. I’ll be right here.” 

Y/N didn’t have much time to argue before he left her side. He retreated with a plastic cup. Logan helped her take a sip. “Good,” he smiled at her. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she said. 

“No, no, it’s okay. You are okay, back in the mansion,” he said. “You are back here, with us, with me. But next time, I am coming with you, no ifs, and, or buts.” 

She didn’t argue with him. That would come later. Now, she just nodded, accepting his words. Her eyes locked on his. All she could see was his fear and devotion. Then there was something more. Something she kept hidden inside her. 

“I love you,” they said at the same time. 

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yeah? You love me?” she had to ask. 

“With my whole fucking being, princess. I love you, Y/N,” said Logan. His lips found the top of her hand again. 

She gave him a tired smile. ”I fucking love you, too,” and she chuckled. 

“Okay, lovebirds.” The voice belonged to Scott. 

Logan turned his head, finding Jean and Scott in the lab, watching them. While Scott had a teasing grin, Jean’s smile was more relaxed and honest. He frowned at them. “You are ruining our moment.” 

“Sorry,” Jean said. “Wanted to check on you. As we can see, you are both doing well.” 

Y/N raised a hand into the air, showing her a thumbs up. “Tired as hell but alive.” 

“Hank is finishing the antidote,” Jean added. “He will administer it today and you should become your old self in no time.” 

“Thanks, Jean,” Y/N nodded her head. 

Logan looked back down on his girl, his fingers brushing against her cheek. He waited until they were alone again. “Can’t wait to have you for me as soon as possible.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you can take care of me and pamper me after my near-death experience?” 

“Of course,” he nodded. “I will show you how much I love you.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Logan,” she demanded tiredly. 

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned closer, lips connecting with her in a deep kiss. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, that showed their hidden emotions. It was nothing but love - eternal, unconditional love. 

[pullupinarari]

The Secret of Us [LH]

III. Fuck, it was chemical

summary: a 5 chapter miniseries in which Lewis chooses you to coordinate one of his new projects, but the instant spark flicking between the two of you makes the professional lines grow a little blurry. do the both of you feel the same?

author’s note: a 20 day break in between chapters 2 and 3 because I have been struggling with some kind of writer's block. this is NOT proofread, there's probably typos and nonsense words, and it's genuinely bad. I'm sorry.

warnings: this has a bit of a smutty part where some kind of masturbation tries to take place

• masterlist

wc: 11 109 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

As weeks passed by, the romantic encounters between you and Lewis have become more recurrent. Whenever the driver was free, every weekend in his agenda was yours, flying back and forth if needed so he wouldn’t skip any of your Wednesday's meetings. 

The shared scones, the small flowers he would pick up on the way to the bakery every Sunday morning, the warm cuddles that made it seem like your bodies would merge into just one - your fingers intertwined, your limbs connected as you two spooned on the couch, with Lewis’ lips landing careful, sweet kisses on your cheek and the crook of your neck. Every single detail helped soften your heart a little more, growing more comfortable beside the man, getting more and more used to spending your free time with him. 

And every single week, your meetings would have a different meaning to them. In public, you would stick to formal handshakes, keeping your bodies and mouths to yourselves, remaining professional for everyone to see. The discreet yet intense glances that you would share, would still be there - a way to speak to each other without using words, keeping all focus in the other’s eyes, smirks, the small details in each facial expression that you would share. 

But, inside the four walls of your office, the scenario was completely different. Lewis would immediately wrap his arms around your shape, his face hiding in the crook of your neck as his lips would attach to your skin, taking in your scent that he misses so much when you’re away, focusing on embracing your figure as close as he possibly can. 

While discussing project-related topics, trying to pick the right design for each piece, the man couldn’t hold himself from paying more attention to your beauty, to your features, to how soft your skin feels against his own - hearing your words, but daydreaming about how lucky he is, feeling grateful for having you, for being allowed to touch you, to discover you, to share his days with you. 

If someone would have the chance to see you together, they would immediately think of the two of you as a couple in love, so in love that everyone around you could feel the intense passion crashing between your figures. 

All the cute, romantic dates that would take place in each other’s homes, candlelit dinners, slow mornings wrapped in the sheets, loud, fun, comfortable showers, even catching some sun in the backyard - everything was an excuse for you to be together, for your bodies to be as close as if you were just one. And it feels like nothing can tear you two apart - getting to know the other more and more as time passes by, growing familiar with each other, to the point of already knowing each other’s quirks by heart.

Lewis can’t even hold back the enamoured facial expression he gives you every time, hearts mirroring his gaze whenever you come into sight, loving how he can remember each small detail about you and your personality, focusing on everything that makes you even more special in his eyes. 

Attracted by how simple of a person you are in your personal life, how you admire the little things in every day: the sun, a good slice of pizza, a laugh with your friends, a shared cuddle session on the sofa with Lewis. In his heart, it gives him an extra hope: you are a simple soul, not really caring about all the luxury that he can provide you. So, if you love a good cup of coffee and your toast the simple way, maybe you can love him for who he is, as well. 

He can’t help but dream about a life beside you, of sharing his apartment with you full-time, giving you half of his closet so your clothes would take up all the space you’d like, waiting for you to come home from work while the man cooks dinner for the two of you. Lewis can’t quite figure out why yet, but you manage to bring out his most domestic side, the side of him that wants to settle down with the right one, have babies, dedicate his entire time to his family, always with the right one - you. 

It’s a nice feeling that erupts in your chest every time you see him, actually. It’s warm, comfortable, almost protective, allowing you to feel special in the man’s eyes, especially once you are wrapped in his arms, your head gently lying in his chest, making you feel safe… almost even too much. 

The truth is: you are not emotionally available to merge yourself in a romantic relationship - at least not in the way that Lewis dreams about. You don’t dream of having kids, of getting married, of finding the love of your life. 

That would have been a thought of the old you, you are sure of it. The old Y/N, the girl who dreamed of a ‘forever’ type of love, of finding her prince charming, believing that you would be happy by his side for the rest of your life. But that’s not true, that’s not real. Reality is: love seems to not exist to you. 

After getting hurt so many times, being deceived by the men you gave a chance to (and more than one, most of the time), your heart got tired of getting broken. Maybe you are the problem. Or maybe you are just unlucky. Maybe you just tend to pick the worst men known to mankind to date. Maybe you put way too high expectations into people who can’t fulfill the scenarios in your head - probably because they always seem way too good to be true. 

So after all this, you slowly come to the realization that you are done with it: with the heartbreaks, with the tears flooding your eyes every time you tried to give your all to someone who gave you nothing back. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do love anymore, not even wasting your time thinking about it. 

And Lewis is a nice guy, you know he is. He brings you flowers, scones, and your cup of coffee. He cuddles you close, kisses your skin tenderly, wraps his arms around your figure safely, making you feel protected and cared for. And maybe that’s where the danger lies. 

Feeling your heart softening up to him is definitely not a good sensation, not for you at least. Lewis absolutely loves it when you stay in bed with him a little longer, finding it hard to leave your place in his chest, your limbs intertwined as you warm each other in between the sheets.

However, as much as your body wants to give in, to kiss him harder, to hug him tighter, the voice in the back of your head seems to never stop reminding you of how dangerous it is to give into this situation even more. You have already given too much of yourself, if you stop and look back at all the dates, all the romantic moments that should have never existed. 

You two were supposed to just have some fun together, and that’s it. In your head, the plan was to go out with him on a first date, meet him in bed, and leave right after. But the man switched everything for you. Changed your ideas, the way everything was supposed to go. 

Now, he is picking you up at work on your lunch break - parking his car a little further from your company’s entrance, so your boss won’t see him - taking you back to his place, where he has cooked a nice meal to share with you, alongside some warm kisses, tender touches, and a genuine smile playing on your lips. 

Deep down, you know that you need to push Lewis away, one way or another. You see him at work, you see him after your office hours. Your brain is continuously delving into him, all the information surrounding the man and everything you know about him. So, after another morning of leaving his house, you decide to make a decision. 

It’s Monday, 10:39 am. Inside the four walls of your office, the sound of your nails tapping on your desk are the only soundtrack stringing your line of thoughts along, mixing with the way your leg keeps bouncing up and down nervously. 

Your eyes scan the email that you just finished writing. Professionally immaculate, written in the right tone, using the most appropriate words, the few lines that inform Sir Lewis Hamilton that the project you’ve been working together on is well advanced, and, for that reason, you believe it’s no longer necessary to schedule weekly meetings with the client, informing the man that, from now on, you will only be scheduling one monthly meeting with him. Adding your boss to the recipients, you take a deep breath before clicking ‘send’. 

It’s done. The first step to keep him away from you, at least while you’re at work. Maybe that can help your brain get a break from the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. 

There’s an unsettling feeling inside of you, you can’t deny it. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to do this, you don’t want to push him away. Deep, deep down, you just want to go home to him, so you two can cuddle on the sofa again, or cook dinner together while sharing stories about what happened during your day at work. 

Your heart feels heavy. But not in a good way, when it feels heavy with love and care. Instead, it’s heavy with sorrow, pain, harsh memories that you would rather forget, but that life insists on bringing back to you. People say that you need to learn to react differently, so the same situations can stop coming to you, right? So maybe this is it. Maybe, this is you reacting differently, not letting Lewis get too close to you, like all other men did - just so he could end up hurting you, manipulating you.

There’s almost an urge to cry, quickly approaching your body as you think about everything again. It’s like a movie playing in your head, making some hot tears tingle in your eyes as Lewis is the one person who’s splattered on the front of your mind. You can’t stop thinking about how happy he makes you, how fulfilled you feel when you’re by his side, in his arms, sharing hours on end with him. 

If your love life hadn’t fucked you up so bad, you know you would be so, so happy by his side. And every time he opens up a bit more to you, sharing his deepest secrets with you, showing how he truly feels when he is with you, it only makes your heart twists in your chest even more, to the point where you can almost feel drops of blood sliding through your insides. 

Why does everything have to be so difficult? You know you are the only problem in this situation, but still: guilt occupies all space in between your organs. You’re the one who’s going to break Lewis’ heart now, just like all those other men did to you. Hurt people hurt people - you guess they’re right now. 

It’s bitter, it’s harsh and it will hurt, but you know it’s for the best. And the driver needs to understand that you’re not the one for him. You could never be. But it seems like he’s not even thinking about any of that, as your phone starts ringing nonstop with messages and calls from him. 

His name appears on your phone screen one time after the other, and it grows consistent every time you decline his calls. “I’m at work, can’t talk right now” - you text him, only to be completely ignored by him, noticing how the man doesn’t stop calling you. He is persistent, and you know he won’t stop until you pick up, even if it will take for him to dial your number countless times for hours.

Still, you stand your ground. Not replying to his endless texts, not picking up his never ending calls, putting your phone on do not disturb mode, so you won’t get bombed with his insistence anymore. 

And it seems to work for a couple hours, at least until you’re almost done with your work for the morning, finishing some essays before your lunch break. 

You managed to fight the urge to touch your phone, to open and check every Lewis’ attempt to reach you, diving in the silence surrounding the four walls of your office, matching the emptiness in your mind as your heart seems to scream on your chest - only to be muffled by the sound of you typing on your computer, trying to focus on what really matters: your job. 

That is, until you’re getting ready to leave your workplace, heading for lunch, just before your secretary is knocking on your door, rushing to let you know that there’s someone that is insisting to talk to you - even after you specifically said you don’t want to meet anyone today. 

- Who is it, Lydia? - you ask the woman in front of you, who’s visibly confused with what to do in that situation.

There’s an annoyed tone leaving your lips that you can’t quite hold back, feeling overwhelmed by the immensity of different feelings inside of you, that definitely makes you not want to see anyone or talk to anyone right now.

- It’s me - a voice erupts through the door, seeing his figure appearing behind your assistant. - This is an emergency and I need to talk to you right now, Miss Y/N. 

There he is: Lewis, standing straight as his eyes pierce yours with a ravishing intensity, almost stealing all the oxygen from your lungs. The closed facial expression on his features lets you know that he is not happy with what you did, and the thought of having to talk to him about it now, makes you bite your tongue. 

You gulp, using all your strength to hold back a sigh that wants to leave your body so desperately. Nodding at Lydia, the woman leaves your office, closing the door behind her - leaving you and Lewis alone. 

- I’m not in the mood to talk, and I was just about to leave for lunch, so please, get straight to the point - you tell him, sipping on your water bottle as you turn your back to him. Your tone is cold, uninterested, not really feeling like having this conversation with the man in front of you now. - Oh, I’ll be fast. Why the fuck did you just cancel all of our weekly meetings? - his words come out harsh, spitting all the annoyance pooling in his own figure, as well. 

There’s the question that you really don’t want to reply to, the conversation you wanted to avoid, the one you wish you wouldn’t need to have. You keep your back turned to him, as your eyes inspect the view of the city from your office. A deep sigh leaves your form before you speak. 

- As I said in my email, the project is right on track. I don’t see a reason for us to continuously meet every week, when most problems are solved, and there’s not much more that needs to be discussed in the current state of the investment. - your tone is flat, not showing much emotion as you try to remain professional, slowly turning to look him in the eyes again, standing your ground as if you were informing him of the most natural thing in this world.

And maybe you are. Maybe everything makes sense. Maybe there’s no need for you two to have meetings all the time, if the project doesn’t require it anymore. However, as much as it might be true, Lewis doesn’t want to accept it. He can’t, in his mind, fathom the idea of not having an entire morning just to yourselves inside of your office, where you would exist for his eyes only - in the exact same way that he feels like he has been existing just for you, as well. 

He sees you almost every night when he is in town, he has you entirely to himself on the weekend’s when he is on break from racing. But still, he can’t help but feel anxious for Wednesday to arrive every week. 

Every Wednesday morning, he wakes up with a tingling feeling in his chest, sensing some nervousness surrounding him as the man anticipates your meeting. He chooses an immaculate outfit - a professional one, to match yours, as he tries to guess what color you’ll be wearing that day, wanting to look good for you, wishing you can desire him just by looking at him, as soon as he walks through the door of your workplace. 

Even if you are really just talking about business and not doing anything forbidden, he loves the adrenaline of taking over your office, moving around as he pleases as he reaches for the opposite side of your desk, only to disturb your focused and professional mindset - by stealing kisses from your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist when you leave your seat at the chair, adorning the skin of your neck with open mouth kisses, loving the way you have to suppress a moan every time he does it, seeing you snaking away from his arms for your own sake, since your boss is in the room next door.  

But even if he doesn’t do anything, he wants to look at your gorgeous face, pray to every small crevice of your skin, begging god to allow your soft hand to touch his as the most intelligent words leave your mouth - blowing Lewis’ mind, as he can’t help but feel so lucky that he has the opportunity to unveil your brain in such an intimate, personal way, seeing how you shine in your field, the way you deserve, like the star that you are. Above it all, he wants your presence. He wants to feel comfortable and warm just by hearing your voice, your laughs, seeing your smile. It has become his weekly boost of serotonin, and he doesn’t want to give up on that. He knows you have a lot of projects to work on, and a lot of meetings to attend, but you can give them any other day. Wednesday belongs to him. 

Walking over to meet your silhouette, the man seems to soften up as he feels your gaze up close. His face is mere inches away from yours, and his fingers are gently reaching for your hand, caressing your skin softly as he tries to ground himself from all the anger that was running in his veins just some minutes ago. He knows you’re right; but he doesn’t want to lose you, the time he has with you. He feeds himself off every second that his eyes land on you, so he tries to convince you to go back on your decision.

- Don’t do this, baby. Please. You know how little time we have to ourselves, and this weekly meeting makes all the difference. - he pleads. 

You know that, that’s why you’re canceling all of them, wanting to cut short all the time you have with him, especially when you spend it in between his arms. 

- Don’t call me baby. We are just work partners that have slept together a few times. That’s it and we are nothing more than just that, Sir Hamilton. - his name sounds cold in your lips, especially due to the way you avoid eye contact with him, the closer he gets to you. 

His eyebrows are furrowed, looking at you with such intensity as he tries to read you, your closed facial expression, your body language. The way your arms are crossed in front of your body, as if to protect your figure, how you force yourself to look away from him, trying to pretend that he is not even there, right in front of you, his frame meeting yours slowly and carefully. 

- You know that’s not true, Y/N. What we have is chemical. And you are so, so much more than just sex to me. - Lewis whispers, his body standing tall in front of you, as his face tries to follow yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible. 

His voice is soft, even sultry as he knows that you agree with him. What you two make the other feel is no joke, and it definitely is not just something that you can label as ‘casual’. It’s not a feeling that you can just turn off tomorrow if you feel like never seeing him again. 

And you know that. That’s why you don’t reply to his statement, gulping as you feel the tip of his finger gently caressing your thigh, slowly pulling up the fabric of your skirt as his eyes never leave you. 

- Say you don’t want me, Y/N. Say it and I’ll leave. I’ll leave this office and your life for good, if that’s what you want. - he is serious as he tries to find answers in you. 

You can’t say it, of course you can’t - the last thing you want in this life is for him to leave you… even if you feel that’s the best thing for the both of you. You bite down your tongue again, sensing some tears threatening to spill from your eyes, due to the constant battle that you have to fight against your own feelings. 

Lewis knows it. And he can see the shine in your eyes growing as you try your hardest to fight back the tears as well, not allowing yourself to relax, to open up, trying to keep your composure - but you don’t have to do it around him. He accepts you just the way you are, with all your flaws and qualities, he wants you to be comfortable enough to be yourself around him, without any masks.

- Baby girl… - he calls softly, melting as your gaze finally connects with his, your arms finally uncrossing with a small sigh leaving your lips, a silent sign that you are giving in again, not having it in yourself to hold the façade that you are trying to carry around with you. 

When you open your arms to welcome him, Lewis immediately attaches his lips to yours, his hands gluing themselves to your waist, holding you close so you can stop running away from him. 

The warmth of your mouth on his own feels right - it’s the only sensation that he longs to chase every day, waiting as much as necessary if that means he can get a taste of your cherry lips once again, even if that moment only comes to him late at night. 

After all, you’re his constant. Believe it or not, knowing that he has one day of the week where he is guaranteed that he will be allowed to see you, even for just a little bit, it’s enough for him - because, in the middle of the driver’s insane world, your meetings, your kisses, are the only thing that can bring him some sense of stability. 

Whenever your bodies meet, you feel alive. You can’t deny that no one else makes you feel the way Lewis does, and maybe you are dumb for trying to turn off this glimpse of light and hope that he has brought you, but, right now, you can’t even think about it - and most importantly, you don’t want to think about it. 

At this moment, as the man is pressing your body against the full-height window that allows your body to have a panoramic view of London, his hands confidently travel through your silhouette, making you focus on his touch, on his sweet lips that are magnetized to yours, allowing your brain to escape the cage of intrusive thoughts that seems to desperately try to tear you two apart.

Your tongues are fighting a silent battle, as your hands snake around his neck, pulling the man even closer to you, as if it was possible, as if your figure isn’t already trapped against the window. For a moment, there’s just the two of you, your gentle hands, your heated kisses, your bodies screaming for each other, feeding yourselves off the neediness, the desire erupting through you. 

Picking you up, the man sits you on the desk, standing in between your legs while your mouths are still connected. Your hands instinctively reach for his shoulder blades, while his fingers slenderly travel down your figure, leaving his print all over your body as he feels the way you grow more touchy, more needy for him. 

It’s like his mouth has power over you, the man being everything you need when your days get hectic, your patience gets low, your body gets tired. Lewis is the one solution to all of your problems, and the world seems to stop, everyone else seems to disappear when his tongue is drawing patterns on the skin of your neck. 

Your breathing grows erratic, your hands reaching for the back of his neck now, your fingers gently pulling on his hair as you bring the man even closer to you, desperately wanting him to make you feel more of the fire that he is slowly lighting up on your body, making you forget about everything else. 

His lips feel hot against your cold skin, that grows warmer due to his touch - gentle, yet so thoughtful, heavy against your soft skin, touching you in your favourite places. He kisses your sweet spot just below your ear, massages your boobs slowly but seductively, making you moan into his mouth, in the middle of a meeting scene that your tongues portray. 

You’re ready for him, like you always are; your body always reacting to his presence, to his aura, to the way you’re both immediately attracted to each other as soon as your eyes land on each other. You don’t want him to leave, you want him to own you, to possess you, right here and now, not giving two fucks about the fact that your door is unlocked, and someone can catch you two - getting a show of the way Lewis’ hand reaches for your core, now that your skirt is all folded up past your hips. 

Your boss could come in right now, finding it strange that Lewis wanted to see you in a hurry. He could question himself about the driver’s clear emergency need to talk to you, worried about some serious problem taking over the project you’re working on together. The man could burst inside your office - he owns the entire place, after all. But instead of being met with a brainstorming session, he would just be met with a provocative image in full display for everyone who wanted to see the way Lewis rubs you through your panties, making you gasp for air, as you try your hardest not to moan loudly. 

The driver learned every detail about your body quickly over the weeks you’ve been together, knowing you and your reactions like the palm of his hand by now. He touches you where you need him the most, kissing down the way of your unbuttoned blouse, his lips feeling how your heartbeat pumps incredibly fast in your chest, feeling it on your skin as he sucks a small hickey just above your left boob. 

Lewis’ fingers rub circles on your pearl through the fabric of your underwear, his digits feeling your wetness soaking the cloth of the lace lingerie that rests under your professional, perfectly neat skirt suit. 

His eyes burn your figure as he loses himself in your sounds, on the way you use him to hold yourself up, trying to keep it together - but clearly failing. He can’t help but groan slightly at the sight in front of him, loving to see you losing it, him being the only reason why you ruin your composure at your workplace, forgetting about all your professional duties when you’re near him. 

The man’s bulge grows in his pants, dreaming about taking you right here, in your office, merging his body with yours while your silhouette effortlessly lays on the desk, in between the piles of documents, papers, information about all the projects you’re working on, all the meetings you have with other people right inside this room. But never in the same way you meet him. 

The air around your figures grows thick, hot, almost making you feel like there’s steam erupting from your bodies, revealing all the desire and passion that you feel for each other, clouding your minds as your kisses and desperate touches speak for the two of you. 

Moaning Lewis’ name quietly, your eyes let him know how badly you want him, and he wants to give in to your needs and pleads so badly, finding it hard to keep it even just slightly together as you try to take off his jacket. 

However, as the fabric starts sliding down his arms, ready to fall to the floor, a gentle knock on your door startles both of you, making your instincts kick in, as you immediately distance your bodies, composing yourselves. 

Quickly fixing your skirt and blouse, you share a compromised look with Lewis while clearing your throat and taking a deep breath, before allowing the person to walk inside. 

- I’m sorry to interrupt, but your next appointment is here, Y/N. - Lydia peaks through the door gently, informing you that you don’t have any more time to dedicate to the driver now, and that your activities will have to be postponed until you’re out of work. 

You nod at her words, seeing how she closes the door again, giving you a couple more minutes to say goodbye to the man in front of you. 

Lewis closes the gap between your bodies again, kissing you hungrily one last time while his soft hands cup your face. 

- My place after you leave work? I’ll cook us a nice dinner - he mumbles while his lips are still faithfully glued to yours - pecking them over and over again, giving you only the chance to nod at his invitation. 

You try to regain your breath as you see him walking out of your office, leaving your body to feel cold and helpless without his touch, his presence, the influence he has on you.  

For the rest of the day, your brain doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything else. Lewis is splattered on the front of your mind, but, unfortunately, it’s not just because of how skilled his fingers are against your skin. 

Your mind works as a factory, creating problems that don’t really exist anywhere besides inside your head. And again, you find yourself feeling guilty. For letting him in again, for giving in to his silky touch, to his warm lips. Losing your mind for him, forgetting about how serious things could have gotten if someone caught you two touching in such an inappropriate way, inside of your office. 

Sighing, you lean on your chair as you stare at the ceiling. There you are: fighting another battle with yourself, forbidding your true self from feeling, from loving who you love, from being happy. Lewis is the one who makes you feel alive. Your heart knows it, so stop denying it. 

However, your brain begs you to be more rational than this. Put your brain cells to use, remember everything that has happened before. All the pain, the cries, the screaming, the hurt, the loneliness that crept on your bones every time you gave love a chance. You can’t do that to yourself again - especially not now, that you finally managed to recover and stand tall again, after all the falling that the damn sensation in your heart put you through. 

Even if you try to play numb and careless, your heart isn’t frozen all the time. As the sun goes up, it instinctively searches for a love, for a reason to beat faster, for someone to drain you in adrenaline, a motive to lose your mind and strictness, reminding you how we all should lose our postures sometimes. 

While your heart is carefully on the look during the day, your mind becomes awake at night, unlike the rest of people, forbidding your body from getting any sleep or rest whatsoever - replaying the most traumatic events of your life, making you relive the way your figure used to contort while you cried yourself to sleep for weeks on end. 

Lewis might just be the one for you, if you think about it with your heart, with all hope and romance that can still inhabit inside of you. But, your brain doesn’t let you believe it, telling you repeatedly that you will be better off without it, letting love go, enjoying just a little fun instead.

Your body hurts, physically feeling the toll that your thoughts take on you. And as your shift comes to an end, you drag your feet across your office, packing up your belongings, so you can finally go home - Lewis’ home, actually. 

Inside his apartment, the man tries his hardest to cook another immaculate dish for you, even while already knowing that you don’t need much to be happy - you appreciate his effort and company either way.

Lewis was lying if he said that he didn’t feel his chest heavy with the urge to see you again as soon as possible, praying that time could go by faster, so you could finally be knocking on his door. 

Having to leave you in the morning, closing the door behind him as he left your office was always the hardest part of the moments he had with you. The distance, the time when you’re apart, are the things that kill him. And every time he hears the doorbell finally ringing, an eruption of anxiety floods through his veins as the man rushes to see you, to get you inside, so he can hug you, kiss you, nestle you on his chest again as you two love so much. 

He wants you, entirely. He doesn’t want just your body, or the steamy moments that you share together. Above all, he wants the kisses, the laughs, the cuddles, the dedication that he is willing to give you. He wants to feel his heart beating faster every time you walk inside his place, always noticing how your smile and your perfume make everything around him seem brighter, happier. 

That’s why he is so desperate for you to come home, to him - as his fingers slightly tremble every time he thinks about the set of keys to his place, that rest in his pocket. A set of keys that will hopefully, belong to you very, very soon, so you can open the door to the place that will be your home as well, officially fully unlocking the door to his heart, as well. 

You finally get to his house, ringing the bell - igniting another loving fire inside of the man, without even knowing anything about it. Lewis opens his arms for you as soon as he opens the door, welcoming you warmly with his embrace, holding you tight and close to the driver’s shape, landing soft kisses on your head as his fingers gently tangle with your hair. 

A deep sigh escapes your body as you wrap your arms around the man’s figure tightly as well, almost holding on to him for dear life as you try your hardest to quiet down the whirlwind of thoughts that has been haunting all day. 

Lewis feels some frustration tensing your muscles, his hand rubbing your back up and down, not breaking the hug until you decide to break it. He senses that something is bothering you, but he has no idea about the tears that escaped your eyes while you were in the car, letting out some of the exasperation that crept on you for hours, since the minute that he left your office. 

Still, it feels like he can put you together, gluing back all your missing pieces with his touch, being patient enough to hold you for as long as you need. And you appreciate it. You appreciate his time, his effort, the silence that strings you two along, the way he doesn’t rush to ask you a bunch of questions immediately, giving you time and space until you decide to talk, not minding the silent touches at all either. 

Once you break the hug, you finally reach to land a small yet soft and caring peck on his lips. Looking into his eyes, you force a small smile to paint your lips and Lewis notices how tired you look - however, in his mind, you just had a tough day at work. He doesn’t even imagine that it was so much more than that - and that he is the reason behind all it. Still, you don’t say much, so the man gets the hint, serving you a plate of food as a way to let you know that he is here, right by your side, and he is going to take care of you for as long as you let him. 

Sitting at the table, you mess with the food on your plate for a second, taking a small bite of it before turning your attention to Lewis’ features again. His eyes are soft whenever he looks at you, and a genuine, kind smile is splattered on his face while he looks at you completely enamoured. 

Silence is still filling the space around you two, while your thoughts are loud in your mind. You can’t help but think of how amazing he is, how he is so thoughtful to always cook you dinner, caring about you like no other man ever did. 

But still. He’s just a man. Just another man that will, eventually, leave you behind once he finds someone better than you. And you notice the love in his eyes; of course you do - he is not subtle at hiding it at all, but maybe he is not even trying to hide it. 

The thing that Lewis wants the most is to be truthful about his feelings. He wants you to know every single emotion that you make rush in his blood, every new sensation that you introduced to him with your presence, with your intelligence and spirit. 

That’s why his hand instinctively reaches for his pocket, where the set of keys that’s destined to you still rests. And as you finally speak to let him know that his cooking is amazing, he just gives you a smile, getting ready to talk to you.

His heart starts beating faster in his chest, clearing his throat while his leg is nervously bouncing up and down. Man up, Lewis. Come on, do it. Do it for her, for you, for your future with her. – the man thinks to himself. 

- I’m glad my cooking can help you a bit after you have a stressful day at work. - Lewis tells you softly. 

You raise one eyebrow slightly, instinctively thinking to yourself that it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just “a stressful day at work”. Work was just fine, and your day would have been better if he hadn’t showed up at your office, demanding to speak to you after your attempt to distance yourself from him - starting an eruption of different thoughts and feelings inside of you. But still, you don’t reply to his statement, and you decide to show him just a smile in reply. 

Taking a deep breath, the driver decides to continue his train of thought. 

- You know, I really love having you around. I love when you come to my place after you leave work, I love how you have the power in yourself to make every space feel lighter and brighter as soon as you walk in. It’s like magic. - Lewis confesses, feeling all the anxiety running through his body as he tries to read your facial expressions. 

There’s not a lot to read, though. You have an expressionless face, your features don’t show much, while contrasting with your brain, that’s working like the devil’s office. 

You hear Lewis’ speech loud and clear. And the alarm inside of your mind immediately rings, as if an emergency has surfaced. There’s too many ‘I love’ in his line of thinking, and you know how this will end, if you don’t stop him right now. 

So, to avoid hearing an ‘I love you’ coming from him in some minutes, you decide to cut the message the man is trying to pass. 

- I enjoy the time we spend by each other’s side as well. At the end of the day, we’re just having fun. I’m glad this isn’t something that we need to take seriously. - you can almost hear Lewis’ heart shattering as soon as the words leave your mouth, seeing his face falling, the smile disappearing. 

He gulps. His hand leaves his pocket, trying to forget about the keys, the words that he was about to say, the love confession, the idea of you moving in with him - or at least the scenario of you having the keys so you could erupt through his house every time you wanted to. 

You don’t want it, and you just made it very clear, now. No words can describe the way Lewis’ heart has dropped at what you just told him. Sadness immediately washes over him, and you can see it. You notice the shine disappearing from his eyes, his face showing you a dull expression, where all the brightness and happiness have disappeared from. 

And looking back at you, he sees how you look at him coldly, almost as if you have no remorse about it. Seeing his heart shattering in front of you, and still, it’s like you can’t feel a thing, in his eyes.

But you can. Oh God, you feel so much - you’re just good at hiding it. Your face is closed, but your heart is open, ripped in the middle, sensing all your feelings, thoughts and pain washing your figure from the inside. You do feel guilty. You didn’t want any of this to happen, but you need to protect yourself, you need to put an end to all the infinite ‘boyfriend moves’ that Lewis does to you everyday. 

He is not your boyfriend, even if you would love for him to be. But you’re not the one for him, and you could never be. Unconsciously, you ask yourself why. Why did those words leave your mouth? Why is your brain winning, pushing him away, even when your heart is screaming in your chest, making a lump form in your throat from the agonizing pain as you fight back the tears that your body wants to let out so much. But you have no response to your instincts. Maybe it really was a mindless move, but one that’s right. One that will protect you from getting even more hurt in the future. 

You’re both hurt now, though. And the dark, heavy silence that sat at the table in the middle of your bodies lets you know it. It’s like a wall that separates you two, now, making it seem pointless that you’re still here, sitting in front of each other. 

And it’s like Lewis can sense that you’re thinking about leaving, as he finally breaks the silence to reply to your statement. 

- Yeah, you’re right. No strings attached, just two individuals having fun and enjoying their time together. - he replies, forcing a smile on his features as he goes back to eat his food, as if nothing has happened.

You can’t help but feel startled by his words, your eyebrows furrowing at his attitude. He was basically on the verge of confessing his love to you and now… no strings attached? You try to read him, but you can’t. 

Turns out that Lewis isn’t as transparent as you thought he was. On the inside, he is so hurt that this pain could make him disappear in seconds, turning all his feelings and dreams of a life with you into ashes. And he can’t believe that these words just left his mouth, either. But, in the end, the man would rather have you on your own terms, than not having you at all. 

Just two individuals enjoying their time together. That’s why you end up watching a movie on the sofa that night, even if both of you feel stiff from the conversation you had at the table, as if you’re afraid to touch each other after the things that were said. Still, you want the other’s company, so neither of you really wants to leave, or cut the night short. 

You end up sleeping in his bed, feeling way too overwhelmed with all your feelings and struggles to drive back home. And as much as this might sound bad after what you told him, you know that you can always find solace in the man’s embrace. 

But now, as you lay peacefully asleep beside him, Lewis connects all the dots in his mind and everything seems to make sense. He was always amazed by the way you would just go back to work on your computer after having sex with him, not wasting any more time cuddling him in bed right after giving into your pleasure and needs. 

You would always tell him about your tight deadlines whenever he called your name to meet him in bed again, but maybe it was never about the projects and the deadlines. It was because you never saw him as the cuddle type, really, as the type to actually get to know you. And as much as he is so sweet, so thoughtful with you, you never fully opened up to him - always keeping a very private side of you completely locked and unreachable, forbidding anything from coming out, and anything from coming in.

And he understands it now. You never really wanted him, you never really cared about his feelings, you definitely didn’t fall as hard as he did for you. You could feel his love reaching for your heart sometimes, but you never really allowed yourself to touch it as much as you could, as you are able to do. You know how dedicated you are when you are in love, and Lewis definitely deserved that side of you. But unfortunately, he is paying for all the things that other men did to you, and he has to put up with this personality that you created - one that doesn’t believe in love, that doesn’t even want to talk or think about it. 

It runs in your family, really. Your mum and dad had a terrible marriage, you grew up surrounded by fights and lies, the image of what ‘love’ was supposed to be, doesn’t look the same to you as it does for the majority of people. And sometimes, when you think about, you question life, you grow frustrated, and you even put the guilt on your family, on your parents from getting married, for bringing you to this world to such a fucked up childhood, that never taught you what real love felt like, looked like. But there’s no point in putting the blame on someone else. This is your life, and you just need to deal with things the way they are.

Now, while your head is lying on his chest, your arms wrapped around his figure as you find some heat to help you sleep, his fingers play with your hair, his hand softly travels up and down your back while he still leaves some gentle kisses on the top of your head. And whenever he gets the chance to hold you close like this, breathing in your scent, he realizes how good it feels to finally have a bit of you, besides all the times you block him out. Lewis can’t sleep, and the thoughts of every word, every moment shared between you two, fly through his mind, not letting him get any rest. Instead, he just wonders what he did wrong, where did he fail, why don’t you want him just as much as he wants you. His brain kills him, haunts him, to the point that the driver can feel some hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he keeps looking down at you, imagining the incredible future that you two could have together, but that will never happen. 

He catches himself hoping, almost praying, that at the end of all this, you won’t regret him - that’s a thought that he can’t even fathom, one that he will not be able to deal with. It’s crazy how, over the months that you’ve been seeing each other, he felt immediately hooked, and that sensation just keeps growing more and more every time he looks into your eyes. He belongs to you. And it kills him, because now he is attached to someone who is going to get rid of him anytime soon, when you get bored out of your mind and he doesn’t seem enough to fulfill your wishes and needs. 

His heart races in his chest as he can’t control his emotions anymore, and Lewis grows scared that his heartbeat might wake you up from your slumber. So, carefully lying you back on your pillow, the man leaves the bed, desperately to find a safe corner where he can just breathe and let everything out of his body and mind. 

He finds some peace and quiet while sitting on a stool in the kitchen, under the dim, yellow-ish light of the stove. Fidgeting with his fingers, Lewis tries his best to take deep breaths, trying to calm down his state. But instead, the more he tries, more tears escape his eyes, as the man allows them to slide down his features.

The salty water feels cold against his skin, staining his cheek as he hides his face in his hands, questioning why is this happening to him, how he can get rid of these feelings and situation now. The love he has for you won’t fade so quickly, and he knows he will suffer a lot when trying to forget you, because even now that he still has you in some way, he can’t help but see you everywhere when you’re not by his side. 

Lewis quickly realized that he was falling for you, but he never really knew that you were so much, that you mean this much to him. After all, you came into his life in a glimpse of hope and fun, but you brought time with you, patience, kindness, happiness - things that he sometimes lacks on a daily basis full of work duties. Still, he has it all with you, because you have that effect on him. 

And now, you ripped all hope from his figure, leaving him dark, cold, hurt and full of doubts. While his fingers clean the tears from his face, he can’t help but wonder: what is he supposed to do now, with a burning heart that stays still in his chest, waiting for yours to come by, to come closer, so they can meet once again and make love while you’re just simply talking or looking at each other, sharing small touches such as the tips of your fingers slowly intertwining across the table. 

Everything has more meaning to him when it’s with you, whether it’s a kiss, having pizza together, singing in the shower. There’s no way this is just ‘two people having fun’. It was way too intimate, way too chemical, way too real. However, right now, it doesn’t really matter what he thinks, nor what his anxiety tells him. You made it clear that this is nothing that you want to take seriously, and he can’t force you. And just like history always shows, someone always ends up in ruins.

As you’re turning in bed, your arm mindlessly reaches for Lewis’ side, searching for some more comfort and warmth - only to be met with emptiness in his pillow. Slowly opening your eyes, you look around the room, noticing that you’re alone. 

On any other night, you would turn to your side and go back to sleep again, patiently waiting for the man to come back to bed. But tonight, there’s a heavy weight lying on your chest as well, as if your conscience feels all the guilt pooling over you due to what you said earlier. Like a magnet, you get up quickly, walking through the corridors until you see his shadow sitting at the kitchen. 

Sitting on a stool with his back to the door, some small sniffles escape his body from time to time, making you stop in your tracks. Leaning your silhouette on the door frame, you pay attention to the man’s movements: how his fingers wipe the tears from his face gently, the way he continuously shakes his head ‘no’ to himself, as if he is denying all his thoughts. 

The sight truly is heartbreaking, and it’s enough to make you feel even worse than you have been feeling all day. The fear of getting hurt made you push Lewis away, even while sharing the bed with him, making him feel used and kicked to the side right after. The fear of not being enough, of being replaced by someone better, made you hurt the man that always treated you like a priority, even in the middle of his chaotic routine and schedules.

Even while being away, Lewis would send you cute ‘good morning’ texts, he would send flowers to your house, surprising you with them after a stressful day at work, alongside a loving card and your favourite chocolate. Even when he has little free time, he always thinks of you, calling you, talking to you, wondering how you’re doing, letting you know how he can’t wait to be back to London, just so he can be by your side again. 

No, this isn’t something casual - and you know that since the beginning as well. Ever since the first kiss, sparks flew from your figures, erupting into the sky, almost showing the whole world how happy you feel whenever you’re together. But still, your brain and heart would fight an intense battle, trying to get you to listen to both, but you always let your brain win - the fear of getting hurt again is just too big. 

But you never wanted any of this. You never really wanted him to leave your life, you never wanted to push him away. Instead, you just want him closer and closer, and if you both could be together, cuddled on the sofa 24/7, that would be ideal for you. So, seeing the man you love crying, heartbroken because of something you said - that you deeply regret, kills you. You don’t want to keep playing this façade, you need to finally be honest to yourself, above all, and admit your feelings. You know you feel safe enough with Lewis to do it. 

Taking a silent deep breath, you walk inside the kitchen, startling the man as your hand carefully lands on his shoulder, catching his attention. The driver immediately rubs his face with his palms, wiping away all the tears that could still linger on the surface of his skin, trying to pretend like he had not been crying just now. 

You sit beside him, looking at him with all the attention and care in the world. To tell the truth, Lewis feels way too self conscious to enjoy your intense stare on his figure right now, so he looks down at his hands again, trying to focus on anything but you. 

- What are you doing here, this late at night? - your voice sounds soft and quiet, trying not to break the glassy silence that surrounds the environment around you two.  - I just couldn’t sleep - he says, and it’s not a lie. But it’s not completely true, and you know that you will need to take charge of this situation, until he feels comfortable to open up to you again.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, his figure welcomes you instinctively, relaxing his tense muscles just so his body doesn’t feel so stiff when you lay on his skin. 

- I think it’s time for us to be honest, Lew - you land a kiss on his arm, looking up at him when he meets your gaze, while still staying silent.

It’s time to use your heart, and not your eyes. It’s time to relax your mind, and allow your feelings to show, pouring them out to the man in front of you without feeling scared, showing him your most vulnerable side. 

- Lewis, I’m scared… - you start, feeling your voice slightly trembling already as you try to open up to him, and show him why you’re so complicated, why your mouth says one thing while your heart feels another. 

He still doesn’t say a thing, giving you time and space to organize your train of thought, to fight all the demons in your mind without pressure - but his eyes never leave you, reading every crevice of your face, every line telling him how much you regret what you said, and the way things have been developing. 

- Love is not really something that I know how to do. My parents’ marriage was a fiasco, I grew up with a very distorted image of what love looked like. As I grew up, I tried to look for true love in everything, in everybody. But, as much as I would try, every romantic relationship I was in, ended up with me being completely heartbroken, ruined. I lost myself many, many times because of failed romances and cried myself to sleep so many nights. I’m actually such a sensitive person, I feel everything, I feel everybody, but it’s just easier for me to put on this ‘frozen heart’ persona. Because, this way, I don’t suffer. I don’t let anyone in, I don’t let any of my feelings out, always trying to protect myself the best I can.

As you start explaining, Lewis’ arm instinctively wraps around your figure, rubbing your back softly while you’re the one letting it out, crying in front of him. It feels weird to be honest and vulnerable after so many years of pretending, and as you do it, you just allow your pain to take over - but, in the end, this is who you are. This fucked up person, hurt, the result of so much trauma, constantly intoxicated by the other’s manipulation. 

The more the cold tears paint your face, the more you realize how frail you actually are, how many problems you still need to bury and fix inside of you, and fear grows inside of you again - but now, you’re scared that Lewis will be the one leaving you alone after knowing all this about you, perceiving you as being ‘too much to deal with’. 

- But then you showed up in my life, and changed everything. Changed the way I looked at life, how I saw my days at work, how I enjoyed my free time outside of my office. When I’m around you, I feel safe. So, so safe, maybe even too much, and that’s what makes me think, what makes me realize that I am falling for you more and more every day. And that’s why I slowly started to try and push you away. I was just trying to ignore these feelings that pop up in my chest every time I’m around you, trying to keep myself from suffering again. But the funny thing is, the harder I try, the more I hurt myself, and now I’m hurting you too… And, deep down, I don’t want any of that. I don’t want to push you away, I just want to pull you closer, and to explore our connection even further. Because you were right. We’re so much more than sex. I can’t stop thinking that every other person in my life, I just met them by chance. But you, Lew, I met you because I had to. And I need you - even if it’s really hard for me to admit this.

A river of tears is still silently sliding down your features, while Lewis gives you all the time to be honest with your feelings, and with himself. There’s a sensation of relief in the air after your words come out, a feeling that both you and Lewis can recognize inside of your hearts. 

One new, single tear escapes the man’s eyes as he gives you a soft smile, his thumbs working to wipe away all the remains of sadness from your face. A moment of silence settles in again as the driver takes a deep breath. Even if he smiled at you, even if his facial expressions seem much lighter now, you can’t help but listen to the anxiety that reaches your brain now - still scared of his reply, of him realizing that you aren’t made for him. 

You absolutely dread the thought of losing him, especially now that you were so transparent about your feelings, your reasons. He is the only person that truly gets you, in your good and bad moods, that knows how to deal with you in the best way - and because of all that, you only love yourself when you’re with him, when you’re feeling understood and held by him. 

It might have been just a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity to you, until Lewis decided to finally speak up.

- I knew you were the one for me since the first time I saw you. Since the very first flirt, the way you called me a prick, how your eye rolls were enough to make me feel silly and warm inside. And after our first kiss, I was sure of everything I felt. And even if you have your fears and problems, I have mine too, baby. But I could never give up on you, never. I just want to make our little bubble the safest I possibly can. I want you to always feel secure and understood around me, so you can recover from everything that happened to you in the past - something that will never happen again with me by your side, love. - the man guarantees you, his hands cupping your face as you sniffle quietly at his sweet words. 

Cutting the distance between your mouths, the driver lands the sweetest, softest kiss on your lips, leading you to hold his face closer, with your hand resting on the back of his neck. It’s slow, gentle, and warm. It feels like a cure to you. 

- I had a spare set of keys in my pocket, while we were having dinner. I was going to give it to you. Please, take them - I want you to be here as much as you can, I want you to come in and out as you please, even if I’m not here, this place is a bit yours as well now. Do you have any idea of how many times I’ve been lying on the sofa, and I just daydream about you walking in without me expecting it? I want those kinds of surprises, the ones who allow me to spend more time with you - Lewis confesses, whispering in your lips as the tip of his nose gently nudges yours, making a genuine smile appear in your face. 

Your chest races in your chest, not really believing that any of this is real, that he is still willing to fight for you, not giving up on your complicated self, but instead helping you recover from everything that hurt you. 

- I want to take things slow, Lew… - you say low, almost ashamed of what you’re asking him, but he really understands you for who you are, and he knows that it’s hard for you to completely open up and face all your fears at once.  - We have all the time in the world, my love. I’m not in a rush. I could never be when I’m with you, I just want to make the most out of every minute that I spend by your side - he immediately replies, pecking your lips softly again. 

There it is: the shine that you love seeing so much, back into the man’s eyes as he looks at you - now, with the vision of a future by your side, the scenario that makes the blood in his veins run faster through his body. And you can’t see it, but you can feel your eyes glowing as well as you look back at the only man that always made you feel welcome in his arms, cared for, that sees you for you, lightening up parts of you that no one else knows about. 

With the moon reflected on your features, Lewis opens his arms to nestle your body closer to his, hugging you close as your head rests on his chest, finally letting out a deep sigh of pure relief. 

Maybe, all that pain, all the cries, all the trauma wasn’t in vain. Maybe everything was necessary, so you could find the right man for you, the one you truly love, the one that loves you right back in the same amount and intensity. Even after hurting him, pushing him away, breaking his heart in a million pieces just a couple of hours before, Lewis is still the pure, selfless soul that holds his hand out for you to take, the one that’s sympathetic, that does everything he can for you, your happiness, your wellbeing, willing to hop on this journey with you. The one that forgives you.

So now, it’s time for you to hold your soul, setting yourself free from all the guilt and shame that has lived inside of you for so many years now, breaking the generational curse that your family has been buried in when it comes to true love - praying that your kids won’t inherit you and the feelings you attract. 

And as you cling on to Lewis’ figure harder, you thank life for putting him in your way, for giving you another chance at learning how to be loved, for allowing you to find a cure for your heart. Hugging him tighter, you set free Lewis’ power - may he heal you, may you two cure each other, creating a happier future together. 

[foldingfittedsheets]

So I went to Geek Girl Con this year and the best panel we attended was one where Librarians recommend your next spicy romance read and since they provided a list I figured I'd share the list because why the hell not? I don’t know how long they will leave the link up sorry All synopsis will be what I remembered from the panel without any research into the title so buckle up! I feel like it's pretty obvious which ones I was more interested in based on what I remember.

Triple Sec - Spice Level 2 Queer/Fiction

This is a poly plot wherein a cynical bartender gets swept up in a new romance with a lady in an open marriage and then sparks start between all three.

Band Sinister - Spice Level 4 Queer/Period

A period romance between two guys, the local playboy and our leading lad who meets the local playboy when his sister gets into an accident on the guy’s property. He finds a lovely community very different than the rake's reputation suggested and gets drawn into a romance against his better judgement.

Here We Go Again - Spice Level 2 Queer/Fiction

A wlw romance between two girls with a history who need to go on a roadtrip together and reconnect on the drive. Childhood friends I think?

Payback's a Witch - Spice Level 2 Queer/Fantasy

A wlw romance between Emmy and Talia (I'm cheating I've read this one before and liked it). Emmy left her hometown and magic behind after an embarrassing rejection from the most powerful magical family's scion. She comes back into town and finds her best friend and the stunning Talia have both now been wronged by the same guy. They convince Emmy to join a pact to get back at him together and Emmy and Talia grow closer through the power of revenge.

Act Your Age Eve Brown - Spice Level 2 Het/Fiction

A chaotic autistic female lead runs into a by the book boy after one of them gets hit by the others car and she ends up staying with him. They form a very sweet bond and the representation was lauded as being very precious.

Merry Inkmas - Spice Level 4 Het/Fiction

A cool alternative barista gets fired in front of her crush for giving a homeless man a free coffee and her crush hires her on the spot to work for him instead. They start up a relationship that he warns has an expiration date which suits her fine- or does it? Hijinks ensue.

D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding - Spice Level 4 Queer/Fiction

A wlw romance under false pretenses, they agree to get married for a reality TV show. There's an influencer and a shy one can’t remember who’s who, the shy one decided national television is a good way to come out to her family. As the competition continues real feelings start to rear their head between the two.

The Prospects - Spice Level 4 Queer/Fiction

Uhhhh baseball boys? The boys play baseball... mlm romance. Baseball.

Something Wild and Wonderful - Spice Level 3 Queer/Fiction

Two guys are both hiking a grueling trail from Mexico to Canada. After running into each other repeatedly they strike up a connection and eventually a relationship. One of the guys is still spiritual despite rejection from the church and it's healing for the other guy.

Prince and Assassin - Spice Level 4 Queer/Fantasy

An assassin is sent on a mission to take out a prince. While waiting for his orders to pull the dagger the two men grow closer and the assassin realizes he may not be able to kill off the prince as he learns more about him- but his sister's life is forfeit if he fails. Dramaaaaa

After Hours on Milagro Street - Spice Level 5 Het/Fiction

I cheated and had to refresh my memory as I fully forgot the plot. A bar is entrusted to new management in the form of a tattooed tough lady. A child of the family who's always run it takes issue with her management and sparks fly as they learn to compromise.

The Pairing - Spice Level 5 Queer/Fiction

A couple breaks up before taking an amazing food tour across Europe and neither goes. With their tickets to the tour about to expire both decide to say screw it and go anyway, presuming that they couldn't possibly run into each other. They do. They they proceed to try to out slut each other while eating delicious food to prove how over each other they are. They aren't.

Hunt the Stars - Spice Level 3 Het/Sci fi

Human/alien pairing I think? As a bounty hunting crew takes a dangerous job and in the midst of peril find undeniable chemistry despite some fraught history between the two species.

A Holly Jolly Ever After - Spice Level 5 Het/Fiction

A previous child actor has found herself in a loveless marriage. She finally breaks free of her husband and takes a huge hit to her public image. She takes a job on a Hallmark style Christmas movie with another previous child star boyband. He has always had a crush on her and while paired as romantic leads on the film she admits to him she's never had an orgasm. We can see where this is going.

Morning Glory Milking Farm - Spice Level 5 Het/Fantasy

Stay with me. Minotaur. Milking. Farms. But it's not milk, guys. So a down on her luck girl takes a great paying job on a farm which I think is like phone sex? and makes a connection with one of the beefy boys get it. Genuinely tactful conversations around consent despite the goofy premise. Monster fuckers will enjoy.

Hate to Want You - Spice Level 5 Het/Fiction

Romeo and Juliet style warring families who hate each other because of grocery stores, I think. A boy and girl get together once a year and hate fuck each other about it but things get hard when she moves back into town for real and they keep bumping into each other.

Consort of Fire - Spice Level 5 Queer/Fantasy

A princess and knight go to take down a dragon but wind up falling for him instead? I feel like that's enough said. Poly dynamic and dragons, that's all it took for me to put in a hold.

Dating Dr. Dil - Spice Level 3 Het/Fiction

Fake dating a hot doctor to get her family off her back. 'Nough said.

Satisfaction Guaranteed - Spice Level 2 Queer/Fiction

A lady inherits a sex toy shop and drops her job to try to save it. The store manager doesn't think much of her and they both have to work together to get the shop back on its feet.

Role Playing - Spice Level 3 Het/Fiction

A forties lady joins a message board for gaming and strikes up a conversation with someone she assumes is a teenager. The guy thinks he's talking to a grandma. They meet and realize they're in the same age bracket and have a lot in common.

[durrtydawg]

Stalemates

(Sam Drake x F!Reader smut)

'Talking it out' often makes for appropriate conflict resolution. But where's the fun in that?

Masterlist

In which they switch it up like nintendo-oh 🎶 . 12k words of switchy, yucky, hate sex. 3rd person, no y/n, grammatical errors (ooo scary) likely

CW for mildly dubious consent and two bitches being mean to each other. For detailed tags take a peek at ao3! Could only bring myself to write this while ovulating which is why it took so long </3. Enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Sam doesn’t know what smells worse. The stale carpet, the acrid, yellowing wallpaper, or her fucking attitude.

His hand lingers on the doorknob for a beat, eyes scanning the motel room with feigned indifference. He bites the bullet and steps in, dropping his duffel onto the bed, preparing himself for an ear-full.

“Wait,” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the repetitive clicking of the faulty ceiling fan. He cracks his neck in preparation for another bitch fit.

She’s still standing by the door, her breath still heavy from the adrenaline of the last few hours. She's had enough. She wants a plan, a strategy. But every damn thing is on the fly when he’s around. Mortality included.

“What the hell is this?”

“What?” he replies, all casual like they hadn’t just escaped certain death and walked straight into… this.

“What do you mean, what? This place is a dump.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Yeah. I see that.”

She rounds on him. “You see that? That’s all you’ve got to say? There's one damn bed-”

“What do you want me to do, princess? Build a second one?” He practically spits the nickname.

She slams the door shut, throwing her bag to the floor. "Far be it from me to want a bit of space after you tried to kill me off."

He groans. "Don't start-"

"Don't start?" Her incredulous laugh escapes before she can stop it. "I almost got impaled back there because you couldn’t be bothered to share your genius plan - oh hold on. No - that’s right. There wasn’t one.”

“There was a plan,” he counters, turning from her to pat his pockets for his box of cigarettes he’d somehow managed to salvage from a trap he’d accidentally triggered hours earlier. “You just didn't follow it.”

All right, so she'd fallen with the box, stuck clinging to the edge of a spike-filled pit. So what? He pulled her out. She's fine.

“Because you didn’t tell me!”

“It was implied,” he says, the smirk tugging at his lips enough to make her see red.

"What else was implied was the fact that you don't ever think about anyone but yourself."

“Really? You think I dragged your ass out of that hole because I wanted a goddamn medal?”

Get a grip.

"Oh, fuck off, Sam." She exhales sharply, hands braced on her knees as she plops down onto the end of the bed.

Her chest still heaves from the rush of it all - dodging death, being forcibly confined to his bullshit, this shitty room. Feels like a boot on her chest.

She forces herself to breathe and enjoy the momentary silence.

Clink.

Her head snaps up. Of course. HA! Of course.

Tck-tck.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she snaps, seething again. “You’re actually lighting up in here? Can't even be bothered to open a damn window?”

He doesn’t even look at her, his lighter sparking to life. “Relax,” he mutters, cigarette between his lips. “Look how yellow the walls are. You’ll survive.”

Her fists curl at her sides as the sharp tang of smoke curls into the air. "Unbelievable." She marches over to the window, wrestling with the latch. "You couldn’t wait two minutes?”

He exhales deliberately, the smoke drifting lazily between them. “Two minutes, ten minutes - doesn’t really make a difference. You’re gonna bitch about it either way.”

Her jaw clenches, “God, you’re… infuriating.”

“Gotta unwind somehow.” His drawl is lazy, but his eyes are sharp - he’s waiting for her to crack. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Her stomach twists. It’s the way he looks at her, like he’s waiting for her to lose it. She huffs, giving up on the stiff window latch, turning back to him with a scowl.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it.

He takes another drag, exhaling slowly, watching her through the clag of smoke. “Tell you what,” he drawls, shifting his weight, standing upright as opposed to leaning against the chest of drawers with a few missing handles, “Why don’t you take a swing at me, huh? Let it all out.”

He beckons her with two fingers, the cigarette still pinched between them, his grin deepening as he watches her stiffen. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re dyin’ to give me a good fuckin’ smack. I can see it.”

Her nails dig into her palms, biting into her skin as her pulse pounds in her ears. She pictures her fist connecting with his jaw, that stupid smirk wiped clean off his face as she pins him down. It would feel so good.

He takes another step forward. “All that energy,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost provocative. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

Fine. Definitely provocative.

She swallows hard, her voice tight. “You’re disgusting.”

Sam watches her, his lips curling as she darts a glance between him and the cigarette. He leans back against the wall, a picture of nonchalance, silently revelling in the way her composure seems to crack, his arrogance only bolstered by her obvious distaste.

Without a second thought, she yanks it out of his mouth, shoving it between her own lips in one fluid motion.

“Really?” he growls, reaching for it, but she steps back, holding it just out of reach with a glare.

“What’s the problem, huh?” she taunts, the cigarette dangling between her fingers. “Can’t go five minutes without something in your mouth? Guess that explains why you’re so full of shit.”

“Ha. Classy.” He scoffs.

 “You are the most crass, irresponsible - no, insufferable - asshole I’ve ever met.” She can feel his eyes on her, and she takes her sweet time before looking back up at him, taking a drag, before huffing it out purposely up towards his face.

He waves a hand in front of him, coughing once. “Real fuckin' cute. Give it back.”

“Give it back,” she mocks, her voice purposely lowered in a crude impersonation of him. “No, no, hold on a sec. I wanna be like you for a moment.” she says, her voice tight with anger, the smoke rolling from her mouth with every word. She raises her chin up to face him. "Can’t be that hard, right? Just gotta act like an arrogant prick."

She ignores the burning ash against her fingers as she scrapes her hair back from her forehead - a gesture that makes him roll his eyes. She leans against the wall in a stance that's just as affected and smug as he is.

“Hmm. Yeah, this - this is nice.”

He chuckles thinly, his arms folding tight across his chest. “Well, I’m glad someone’s entertained.”

“Entertained?” She leans into the word, dragging it out as she takes a drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke in his direction with a casual flick of her wrist. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m more than entertained.” She snaps her fingers, flicking ash. “I’m inspired! I mean, you’ve got a hell of a system going. The quips. The brawn. The charisma - God, it’s practically oozing out of your every pore, right?”

His grin freezes in place, tight at the edges, but she’s not done. Not even close.

“Hi, I'm Sam. I like to fuck my way out of every tight spot I get myself into, then proceed to leave everyone else behind to clean up the mess.” She steps forward, her eyes gleaming as she watches his jaw tick. “It’s genius, really. Self-destructive, sure, but hey, you’re nothing if not consistent.”

His smirk twitches, then falters. “You done?”

She ignores the warning in his voice, taking another slow step toward him. “Have you ever thought about teaching a class? Writing one of those 'for dummies' books? ‘How to Charm Your Way Through Life Without a Shred of Accountability.’ Could be a bestseller. You’d make a killing.”

“Alright,” he mutters, voice clipped. “That’s enough.”

“Enough?” Her head tilts, her eyes wide. “Come on, Sam, don’t tell me you can’t handle a little constructive criticism.”

He stays quiet, his grin gone now, his jaw tightening as his eyes follow her every move. She doesn’t stop. She loves this. Loves seeing him like this.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say a word. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and though his expression remains composed, she can feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. It thrills her. She doesn't want to examine it too closely - the rush - but she can't deny the flicker of satisfaction in knowing she’s gotten under his skin. Better than that smug, righteous babe-magnet haughty bullshit he insists on projecting ninety-nine percent of the time.

“You’re just trying to distract yourself, aren’t you? The scams, the smirks, the sex - oof, let's not forget that. It’s all noise. A shitty cover-up for what you actually are.”

The tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken, the little scrunch at the bridge of his nose; it's real - a side of him he tries too hard to hide behind that dumb, cool exterior. Boy, does it add fuel to the fire. A rogue spark bouncing onto kindling. She knows she’s pushing him. But hey, they're stuck together for the foreseeable, so what's really the worst he could do?

“And what’s that?” he finally bites out, his voice sharp and low, but she doesn’t flinch.

Her lips curve into a cruel smile, and she gestures to him with the cigarette, her tone cutting. “A sycophantic hedonist with a nicotine addiction, trying - and failing - to claw your way out of your brother’s shadow.”

Then, he laughs, teeth bared in a parody of a grin. No trace of humour. It’s dangerous now. She licks her lips.

“You wanna say that again?”

“Sure.” She takes another step forward, close enough now to feel the heat rolling off him. “I think you’re lame. A shadow-dwelling grifter who’s just pissed he’ll never. Be. Good enough.”

Before she can blink, his hand shoots out, rough fingers clamping around her chin. The suddenness of it sends a shock-wave through her, and she stumbles a little. “And I think that you," He yanks her face up toward his, his grip just shy of bruising, "Are a frigid little control freak who wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in the ass.” he shoots back. The cigarette flies onto the floor, smoke trails smouldering between them, until his boot grinds it into the carpet without even looking.

Her breath stutters, but it’s not fear that does it. She smirks, even as her pulse races. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

Then he shoves her, hard, and her back hits the wall with a thud, his thumb digging in just beneath her cheekbone.

“Listen, you sanctimonious bitch,” His eyes are sharp, narrowed, the fury in them burning hot. “I’d have loved nothin’ more than to have left you to rot in that pit - hell, I’d certainly have much less of a goddamn headache right now if you’d’ve fallen ass-first onto one of those spikes.” Her head jolts in his grip as he punctuates each word, “But luckily for you, I’ve got a job to do. So here you are.”

She doesn’t shrink. Doesn’t falter. Instead, she pushes, craving the intensity. Ha. Frigid. “And wouldn’t that have been dull.”

Stupid fucking men and their need to assert physical dominance. It’s boring.

Her lips curve, deliberately, the ghost of a smile curling at the edges. Not sweet. Not kind - never kind with him. Instead, mocking. Dangerous. 

Her chin tips up, her lips parting ever so slightly as she pushes against his grip, her breath warm and steady as it grazes his mouth. Close, but not close enough. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.

Go on, her silence says. Do something.

Sam’s jaw is ticking. He wants her to flinch, to crack, to give him something - anything - but all she gives him is a tilt of her head, her neck arching just a fraction to shift the angle.

He’s holding on by a thread. She knows it. His jaw clenches, and his pulse hammers as she lets her fingertips drift across his stomach. Teasing, toying, until she hooks them around the buckle of his belt, tugging him closer.

“Do you get off on this?” She speaks quietly, her chin moving against the palm of his hand. The question catches him off guard, making his frown deepen. Because a part of him does. “Using your height and your muscles and cute little frown to intimidate girls young enough to be your daughter?”

Disgust flashes in his eyes. But beneath it, intrigue? Desire? Some gross spark that twists him up inside. He’s disgusted with himself for feeling it, for letting her get to him like this. But the hard truth, as betrayed by the semi he can’t fully hide, is that part of him is undeniably drawn in.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Oh… I think you do.”

His breath falters - barely perceptible, but she catches it. Of course she does. Her eyes catch the flicker of hesitation in his, narrowing as his anger wavers. Shifts. Into something else entirely. It takes a monumental amount of effort to stop herself from laughing in his face.

Her lashes lower, eyes dropping just below his belt for a heartbeat before dragging back up. Slow. Calculated. Intimate, to the point where she’s almost taking herself seriously. She’s not backing down - no, she’s playing with him now. She tugs at the leather, a deft pull that has the belt sliding free of its buckle, then presses her palm against him - light, barely there - but enough for him to feel it.

She feels his fingers loosen their grip on her jaw, just slightly. It’s so subtle, he thinks he’s gotten away with it... and he would’ve, if he hadn’t audibly swallowed and given himself away mere seconds after. Her mouth twitches. The strings are falling into her hands.

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice a purr now, filled with mock encouragement. “You've got it all under control, haven't you?” She lets her hand move over him again, slower this time, the pressure just enough to make him grind involuntarily against her touch. His breath comes faster, harder, and she feels his body tense against hers.

His grip on her face tightens as he stares at her with scorn - it's starting to hurt, now - she's almost certain his thumb's going to leave a bruise just beneath her cheekbone - but she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t give him what he wants. She holds him there, her fingers still teasing him through denim.

Her lips are hovering just shy of his, still. The space left between them is so veil-thin it’s barely there. She won’t close it, though. She wants to let him feel her there - let him ache for it. Allow the tension to fester, coiling tighter and tighter with every second that ticks by. His pulse kicks - hard.

Sam doesn’t realise he’s leaning in until it’s too late. His rage, his whole resolve, all of it crumbling under the weight of her strategic silence. His fingers tighten their grip again as he feels his frown falter, thinking it’ll hold up the bravado.

She pops the button through its hole, pushing the zip down with her thumb, "Do you want me to touch you, Sam?" she whispers, stroking along the length of him, light and teasing, drawing a sharp intake of breath from his throat. His body reacts before his mind can catch up, his hips pressing into her touch, desperate for more. "To treat you like the big, strong man that you are?"

Her deepening smirk tells him he’s fucked it all up. It’s slow and sly and her eyes are sparkling with a satisfaction that’s almost unbearable.

He can’t think straight.

“Fuck you,” he growls through gritted teeth, but there’s no strength behind it. It’s not a threat - it’s a plea. Even he knows it's lazy.

She laughs, soft and mocking, her hand still stroking him through his boxers, the feeling of him hardening against her hand is captivating.

She leans in, too, grinning against his faltering grip, letting her lips graze against his in a way that goads him so hard that the power trip alone sends heat coursing through her. He remains still, aside from the loosening grip of his hand once more. He’s trapped.

Her eyelashes flutter as she pulls back mere millimetres, eyes intentionally dropping to his lips again before flicking back up, head tilting. Making sure he sees her display of self-indulgent curiosity. He doesn’t know she’s just tossing the bait into the water.

His fingers twitch at her cheeks, grip loosening just as his body instinctively leans closer, reeled in by her. His hand starts to slide, his palm brushing the curve of her hip as if testing the boundary of how far he can take this.

Her lips part, and for a split second, he thinks she might actually let him. That she’s given in, that this isn’t just some cruel game she’s playing at his expense.

She thinks he's a moron.

So she finally yanks on the rod out of the water.

She stills her hand, and whispers against him: “I’ll take the floor.”

Before he can react, her palm presses against his chest in one swift, decisive shove, forcing him back. The movement isn’t violent - she doesn’t need it to be.

By the time he’s recovered his footing, she’s already long gone. The smirk she tosses over her shoulder is pure satisfaction, her steps casual and unhurried, as though she hasn’t just torn him apart and left the pieces scattered across the shitty old carpet.

It takes him a moment to realise she’s actually walking away. His chest rises and falls heavily, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air around him, all warm skin and sweat and something faintly sweet. Infuriating.

The humiliation crashes over him in waves, his pulse pounding. His body burns with frustration, with the bitter taste of defeat. He feels like a fool - a complete fucking idiot.

He had her caged, in his grip, and still, she slipped through his fingers, leaving him humiliated, rock-fucking-hard, and wholly unsatisfied.

He watches her approach the window, his hands curling into fists as the truth sinks in: she never lost control. Not for a second.

He's not about to let that stand.

His tongue drags over his teeth as he exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back while she struggles against the window lock.

Poor thing. She usually knows how to press the right buttons.

The sound of her irritated huffs provokes him. She’s giving him space - space to stew, to think. Maybe she knows it. Maybe she planned it. The thought only pisses him off more.

“You’re good at this.” He murmurs, letting his voice dip low, zipping his jeans back up, “The games. Smirks. Little looks. Actin' like a fuckin' skank ‘cause you think it makes you untouchable.”

Her fingers still, gripping the latch tightly. She doesn’t turn. She hums contemplatively.

“Untouchable? No.” Her voice is steady. “Smarter than you, though? Sure.”

He can’t help but laugh. “You think you’re smarter than me?”

“No, Sam, I know I’m smarter than you.” She doesn’t bother glancing his way, but her smile - the kind that cuts and soothes all at once - tells him she’s enjoying this. “You huff and puff around, throwing tantrums, like you’re God’s gift to brawn,”

His self-control is hanging by a thread. He knows he should let her have the last word and leave it at that. Walk away. Take a fucking shower and sleep it all off, but he can’t. 

“Brute force doesn’t equate to intelligence. Pushing me against a wall, blah blah, fucking blah. What next? Gonna toss me out the window because I bruised your ego?”

It's a nice thought. He'll give her that.

His presence is a shadow swallowing hers, a heat at her back that she feels before she even registers the sound of his boots crossing the room. She stiffens, her knuckles whitening on the latch as his arm brushes hers.

Before she can snap, his hand replaces hers on the latch, effortlessly forcing it open with one sharp motion. The cool air floods in, trading places with the stale smell of smoke, but she barely notices it. She’s too focused on him - on his arm brushing against hers, the way he leans in slightly closer than he needs to.

His hand is on her hip.

No more beating around the bush - He rams her forwards with a thunk, her palms bracing against the windowsill as his chest pins her in place.

She sighs, performative insouciance, despite her racing heartbeat. “What are you doing?” she manages, her voice sharp despite the subtle wavering to it. He catches it and he bites back his grin.

“Opening the window. Putting my brute force to good use. Can’t have you straining yourself, can I?”

Her teeth grit together. She doesn’t push him away, though.

The hand at her hip digs in, while the other drifts upward, curling around her throat. Firm. Controlling. She stiffens, chastened anger flickering hot and wild in her chest, but her body doesn’t move. It can’t move.

What the fuck is he doing?

“Tell me to get off’a you.”

His chin rests against the top of her head, a display of dominance so casual it makes her blood boil.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Samuel?”

His lips quirk in a dangerous smirk, his confidence snapping into place now that he has her at his mercy. “Making sure you get the last word, sweetheart. Isn’t that what you always want?”

“You’re such an-” she starts, but he cuts her off with a low laugh, speaking through the top of her head so his voice reverberates through her skull.

“What? An asshole?” His voice cuts her off, gravelly and edged with something teasing. “Crass? Reckless? Got any new ones, or are we recyclin’ tonight?”

She blinks, her mind struggling to catch up.

“C’mon,” He chuckles again, “Tell me to get off.” His grip tightens, just enough to keep her in place but not enough to hurt.

Her heart is thundering now - a crack in the armour she’s so desperately trying to keep intact. What’s worse is the heat from moments ago continues coiling low in her stomach. She hates it. Hates that her body betrays her rationale, hates the smugness in his reflection. That's what she tries to tell herself, at least… though, the reality is more that she hates how much she's anticipating his next steps.

“You’re insane.” she mutters, though her voice lacks its usual bite.

“Insane,” he parrots, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “Insufferable. The list goes on.”

Her lips part, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but it refuses to come out. She’s frozen, her pride locking her in place even as her body betrays her.

She feels his grip shift, the hand at her hip sliding lower, brushing the top of her thigh, coming round further. The deliberate motion pulls a defiant grunt from her throat, her body betraying her mind’s fury. 

“Listen,” His fingertips rub circles into her thigh.

Light, slow.

“I might be all those things,”

Inwards.

Upwards.

“But, I’m not a monster. So…” Her eyes dart downward, caught between the shame of her own hesitation and the maddening awareness of his every movement. He’s quick to correct that, fingers tightening around her throat just enough to force her head upright again. “Uh-uh,” he chides. “Eyes up, huh? Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now.”

She almost bites out another snarky comment but all semblance of wit flies out of her head as his thumb swipes between her legs along the seam of her shorts.

Shit, shit, shit.

Her thighs tighten together instinctively, mindlessly trapping his hand there, which only makes him laugh into her ear, squeezing the sides of her throat a little tighter. He's such a delinquent, relishing in her hushed breathlessness and all the soft sounds she's trying to keep behind her teeth.

“Last chance.”

She’s livid. Because she thought she fucking had him.

Say something, She thinks. No - don’t. That’s what he wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Ah, shit.

Her mind scrambles for control. She can’t tell Sam to stop. To do as she’s told. He’d just love that, wouldn’t he? He’d win. Never let her live it down. But she shouldn’t let him keep going, either - because, then, he's still winning, and worse, she’s letting him.

Panic swells in her lungs, her insides churning.

“All you men,” She starts, pausing to compose herself once she realises how breathless she sounds, “are exactly the same. So desperate for things you can’t have. Pathetic, really.”

Not her best attempt at tugging back the reins. But at least she didn't call him a skank.

His breath skates along her neck when he snorts at her, and she swears she’ll scream if he doesn’t stop - if he doesn’t move - if he doesn’t-

“All the same, huh?” The condescending prick speaks into her temple, hips pushing firm against her so she knows she's got no choice but to reap what she's sewn. “Wonder if that rule applies to uptight little smart-asses like you?” His hand trails back up from between her thighs to her waist, fingers pulling the material of her shorts away from her stomach, smoothing over warm skin as she tries to control her breathing. “In my experience, they're wet in an instant - fuckin' freaks behind closed doors.”

Her embarrassment is flaring white-hot now. He's giving as good as he got.

Her pulse quickens, and she forces herself to glare at him, jaw tight, nails gritting against the glass to keep her hands from trembling. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of a reaction other than that.

Which is a huge mistake.

“Jesus Chr-” He giggles, rubbing against her underwear with an abruptness that has her biting back a mewl. “You’re actually wet, aren’t you?”

“Choke, you piece of shit.”

That makes him snort.

“Choke? What, like this?”

His fingers flex harder against the sides of her throat, applying just enough pressure with each hand to make her body arch involuntarily against him. It knocks her for six, eyes widening as a palm clambers its way from the window pane up to the hand squeezed around her neck.

He hums low in his throat, a sound of mock consideration as her nails scratch at him.

“That's what you want? To see how far I’ll go? Never pegged you for a whore.”

Her teeth grit, rage bubbling as he sneers his way through his sentence. The push and pull of him pressing damp fabric against her isn't helping matters.

Everything’s too much.

The weight of him pressing her down. His hand at her throat. The fucking self-satisfaction on his face as he pinches her clit through her underwear and makes her buck into him.

She wants to snap. To move. To do something. But her thoughts are slipping and it’s all more intoxicating than it has any right to be.

He thinks he’s in control. He’s so damn sure of it, so drunk on his own smug confidence. She can feel it radiating off him.

Her lashes lower. She lets her lips part slightly, and her body slacken against the window. A deliberate show of defeat. A histrionic surrender. His grip eases just a fraction, and she feels the subtle shift of power.

Her breath shudders, her chest heaving in what she knows he’ll mistake for resignation. He leans in closer, his body flush against hers, bulge pressing into her ass adding insult to injury as she tries to maintain concentration.

She's reluctant to admit to herself how galvanising it all is. The weight of him. The heat rushing through her as his fingers stroke and tease. The unbearable closeness-

Nope - no, this can't continue. Not like this, at least. Let him have what he wants. But it'll be on her terms.

He doesn’t expect her to fight back. He’s too caught up in his performance, too sure of his control. The stupid fuck.

She lets him savour it - hell, she lets herself savour it for one, two, three seconds.

Then she strikes.

Her hand shoots up, grabbing his wrist. Hard. She doesn’t pull away. She pushes, twisting his grip just enough to loosen the choke-hold on her throat. Clarity floods her brain, and her elbow drives back - sharp, fast, ruthless. It connects with his ribs, and the sound of his grunt sends a wild rush through her.

He stumbles, grip faltering.

She pivots, twisting out from beneath him in a blur of motion. Her hands shove against his chest, forceful, determined. He doesn’t stand a chance. His balance tips, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

Sam falls flat on his back.

For a moment, he looks almost comical, sprawled across the bed in stunned silence, blinking up at her as though he can’t quite believe what just happened.

She takes a step forward, her breath still heavy, her heart pounding against her ribs as she looms over him.

And there it is again - that shift in power, slipping through his fingers and landing squarely in hers.

He knows it. She knows it. She’s straddling him before he even has time to process it fully, pinning his wrists hard against the mattress above his head, her knees clamped to the sides of his hips.

“Cute,” the sarcasm comes out low and gravelly. It's… well, it's hot. She digs her nails into his skin out of contempt for the both of them.

“Well,” she ignores him, leaning in close, her nose brushing his. “Congratulations.”

His brow quirks. “Yeah? For what?”

“For proving my point.”

She can feel the heat radiating from him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers. His skin is warm under her touch, and the way his muscles twitch beneath her grip sends an undeniable rush through her. Her nails dig into his wrists, and even she isn’t sure if it’s to keep him down or to rile him up any more.

There’s tension beneath his skin, the restrained strength of someone biding their time. He stays still. Watching. Waiting. Curious. His muscles flex in warning, but his eyes glint with that maddening mix of intrigue and amusement. Always testing her. Always waiting to see how far she’ll push.

"And what point is that?"

She's strong. He's watched her kill men twice her size. But still, he knows he could have her flipped onto her back in a fraction of a second if he pushed.

Her line of sight rakes down his face. He looks infuriatingly good pinned beneath her, and it grates at her self-control. His confidence seeps through the cracks of her power, unrelenting even now.

Her body remembers his touch, the bruising force of his hands, and it deceives her reasoning. She’s soaked. Her arousal seeps out to the tops of her thighs as she gives her hips an experimental roll against his.

She watches him swallow, jaw clenching slightly to fix his smirk in place. She leans in, lips grazing his ear as she grinds on him again.

“Men,” her lips drip venom, “are fucking pathetic.”

Her pulse races, hammering through her, but she pushes the doubt down, letting the smirk sharpen into cruelty. The ever-precarious balance continues to tip in her favour as she senses a touch of nervousness in his little huff of laughter.

“And you,” she whispers, forcing him to hone in on what she's saying, “might be the most pathetic of all of 'em.”

“Keep runnin’ your mouth. See where it gets you.”

Her head tilts, eyes flashing smug. “Right where I want to be, obviously.” A bold move to admit it, but they know each other too well to deny what's about to happen. Of course they do. To despise is to know.

Her hands move fast - just quickly enough for his arms to stay where she's had them. The hem of her shirt is over her head in a fluid motion. His eyes flicker, distracted for the briefest second.

“Focus, Samuel,” she snaps, her grip catching his chin, forcing his eyes back to her face. “Getting distracted already? You’ll never keep up like this.”

"What's there to keep up with, huh? A little dry humping? What are you - fifteen?"

His jaw clenches, but he forces out another frustration-tinged laugh. She can see through it, feel the way his body tenses beneath her. She shifts, pressing harder against him, and the subtle change in his expression tells her everything.

His control is slipping.

"What? Desperate to get your fingers into me? Pervert." She raises a brow, palms moving from his face and wrist to trace the tension in his forearms. His muscles twitch beneath her touch, a reminder that this could end the moment he decides to reclaim control.

She sits up, hands pressing flat against his stomach, tucking under his t-shirt and smoothing over hair and warm skin as her fingertips curl into the fabric. She speeds up when she sees him watching her hands work, until she yanks the shirt up and over his head.

She tosses it aside as his eyes narrow. For a moment, it looks like he might flip her over, shut her up, but she restrains him once more. His muscles flex beneath her grip, coiled tight and ready to spring, but she keeps him there, her nails biting into his skin as if daring him to break free. The uneven rhythm of their breaths fills the tiny space between them. The room is too small, too hot, and the tension is making it all the more damn suffocating.

Suffice to say, Sam's had enough of the purgatory.

When he finally moves, it's sudden - violent almost - a flash of motion she doesn’t anticipate. His head snaps forward, and his lips crash against hers with enough force to steal her breath. It’s hardly a kiss; more of an attack, all teeth and heat and fury. She gasps into it, shocked, her body stiffening for a split second before the wave of intensity drags her under.

Her grip on his wrists loosens as his mouth claims hers, teeth scraping against her bottom lip hard enough to sting. The faint taste of copper blooms on her tongue, but the pain only fuels her, sending a jolt of heat through her spine. Bastard.

She collapses into him, matching his ferocity, her hands abandoning his wrists to thread into his hair. She tugs hard, earning a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat that vibrates against her lips. Her nails scrape against his scalp, and she feels him shudder beneath her as one of her hands flies down, scrambling for the metal of his zip. Her nail catches - it snaps. She hisses.

His hands move fast as she's momentarily distracted, one wrapping around the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip. The total one-eighty in power is instantaneous, his body surging up against hers as he pushes back, refusing to let her hold the reins any longer.

She doesn’t fight it. She lets him guide her into the chaos of it. His lips move against hers with bruising intensity, his tongue sweeping past her teeth in a way that makes her snarl back at him. Her nails rake down his shoulders, over the expanse of his bare chest, leaving faint red lines behind - the broken, jagged edge of the one she'd caught seconds ago scratching against his nipple.

He hisses against her mouth, his grip tightening as he shifts his weight. Then, with a sharp twist and a surge of strength, he flips her onto her back.

The mattress creaks as she lands, her breath knocked from her lungs. His body presses down against hers, pinning her in place as his mouth moves to her jaw, then her throat, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there.

Her hands are on him immediately, roaming over his back, her nails digging into the hard lines of muscle as she arches up against him. Her heart pounds in her chest, adrenaline tangling into a volatile and all-consuming high.

His lips find her pulse, and she swears under her breath, the sound caught somewhere between outrage and need. She bucks her hips up against him, desperate to feel more, to take back some semblance of control.

But he doesn’t let her. He hovers above her. She whines, and it's embarrassing.

"Christ - someone's in heat, huh?" His tone is entirely too nonchalant given what they're doing.

She has half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself, but as the words form in her brain, the sensation of his hand snaking back into her shorts, scooping her underwear aside to stroke a line through her arousal only causes her to shudder. His mouth twists into an even deeper smirk at the atypical shake in her throat, taking it upon himself to make said shake worse by single-handedly shunting the waistband of her shorts down to mid-thigh.

She grunts, grabbing his face, pulling him back down to meet her, and this time, it’s her tongue that presses forward, demanding, devouring.

Teeth smack teeth and he mutters something about how wet she is - that his 'theory's got legs' - she calls him an insufferable cunt. He laughs, tracing circles everywhere but where she most needs it.

She bites his bottom lip, returning the favour from earlier, neither of them able to decipher whose blood they're tasting at this point. It's hard enough to make him pull back, his breath ragged as his eyes lock onto hers.

His patience snaps.

“Fucking animal,” he growls, his grip tightening on her waist.

Before she can call him a hypocrite, she’s flipped face-down on the bed, her arms crushed beneath her chest, as he presses himself down against her back.

Her breath leaves her in a startled rush.

Oh, shit.

Her thighs press together instinctively, and she thrashes, but it’s useless - he’s stronger, and he’s got her pinned. Hard.

She snarls into the sheets, writhing beneath him, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his arm slides under her, curling around her stomach, palm pressing firm against the soft plane of her lower abdomen before moving lower still.

Heat licks up her spine, colliding messily with her frustration as she stiffens.He enjoys this - holding her down, feeling her succumb.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re getting comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice all mock sympathy, breath hot against her ear. His fingers flex, tightening his hold. “That’d be embarrassing.”

She lets out a sharp, breathy laugh, twisted against the sheets, her cheek pressed hard against the mattress. “Oh, please, do keep talking.” she spits, writhing against his grip.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he curls two fingers inside her, her body arching involuntarily into him, a curse slipping from her lips before she can stop it.

He smirks, his free hand sliding up her back, snapping apart the clasp on her bra, before snaking back up just below her throat, leaving her no time to retort. His thumb presses lightly against her windpipe, a warning, as his fingers continue their infuriatingly pleasant pace. She swallows hard as he speaks into the shell of her ear.

"Growing a bit compliant there, doll. Makin' me think this has been on your mind for a while."

With a grunt, she jostles herself up hard, trying to throw him off, trying to wrestle back the last bit of power she can. But he doesn’t budge. If anything, he only presses into her harder, his fingers hooking up in a way that makes her vision blur at the edges and a soft gasp fly out of her mouth.

Her lips part, her breath ragged, eyes locking with his over her shoulder. "You think… th-this means anything?" she spits, but her voice trembles, a touch of desperation creeping in.

He leans in closer, teeth grazing her bottom lip again, but this time softer, taunting. "Not sure." he replies, amused. "Ask me again when I've got my cock in you." He snorts at his own asinine remark. Her nostrils flare.

“Pig.” she manages to grit out, voice hoarse, teeth clenched.

His lips brush her ear, and he chuckles. "Pig? I'm not the one squealin'."

His wrist picks up the pace, causing her face to screw up, expression tightening as his thumb finally nudges her clit - her body seizes; she contracts unwillingly around his fingers, but he pries her back open with a third.

She can’t stop the moan that tears from her throat, her eyes squeezing shut as he watches her start to unravel beneath him with a sadistic grin.

Her body jerks against him as much as it can, the sharp edge of pleasure overtaking the defiance she's clung onto for the past few minutes as she tries to free her arms. She bites her lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her falling apart beneath him.

That is until she feels his hand pull away from between her thighs with a humiliating squelch, and she tries with all her might to hold back a defeated whimper at the sudden loss of sensation.

She tries to turn her head, impatience tightening her muscles, but he’s got her locked in place, every shift of her body met with an unyielding press of his weight. She can’t see him, can only feel - the absence of his fingers a cruel tease, leaving her thrumming with frustration.

Then she hears him sigh - quiet, almost contemplative. Then the slow drag of him sliding against her, gliding through the pool of slick he’s already drawn out.

Her breath stutters, thighs twitching in trepidation as the warm head of his cock nudges at her clit, pressing into her just enough to make her agonise for more. It’s humiliating, the involuntary clench of muscle, the way her arousal drips down onto the sheets. She hates it. Hates him.

Hates even more that every nerve in her body is screaming for him to keep going.

His chest is flush against her back, the unbearable heat of him sinking into her skin, searing, suffocating, branding, almost, in ways she refuses to acknowledge. She won't be forgetting this feeling for a long time. Neither will he.

His breath skates along the shell of her ear - ragged, smug. He knows. Of course, he fucking knows.

His hips shift, and then - fuck.

The first thrust knocks the air straight out of her lungs. He doesn’t ease in, doesn’t give her a second to adjust - just drives into her in one inexorable push, filling her so deep her fingers claw uselessly at the sheets.

She chokes on the moan that tries to escape, biting down hard on her lip until blood oozes back onto her tongue. She refuses to give him the satisfaction.

“Holy sh-” he grits out, adjusting his grip, one hand firm on her hip, thumb digging into the dip of her spine. “Wasn't expecting such a tight fit - Jesus.” His words cut through the haze as his other hand re-tightens around her throat.

Her eyes screw shut, her pulse hammering away. He shouldn’t feel this good. Given his big fucking mouth, she'd always assumed he was trying to compensate for something. More fool her.

Sam pulls back slowly, the stretch sending unbearable anticipatory pleasure sparking through her veins. Then he slams back in with a grunt, punching a breathless gasp out of her. He holds himself there for a second, feeling her stretch and squeeze around him.

“This really all it takes to get you to shut that whiny little mouth a'yours?"

Her hands fist into the sheets, wishing the same could be said about him, as numbness sets into her arms from being stuck under her own weight for so long, her jaw clenching as he sets a brutal rhythm, every snap of his hips forcing her forward, shunting her deeper into the uncomfortable mattress.

Her body gives in so easily, molten heat spiralling away in her stomach. Ugh, she wants to spit something back at him, but she can’t. He’s fucking the breath right out of her, and all sense of the disgusting room around her is fading, slipping into nothing.

In her attempt to keep quiet, she must make a sound - broken, subservient - damn near wrecked, because he laughs against her sweat-damp skin, pressing her down harder, cock driving deeper, with the intention to bruise - he wants her to remember this.

She groans, long and lewd, her forehead pressing into the mattress, her body traitorously growing more pliant under him. The pleasure is unbearable, tangled with resentment, with rage, with the utmost desire to wipe that smug tone out of his voice.

His hand around her throat scoops her upwards, and she whines through gritted teeth as her back is forcibly arched and her breathing is restricted. Every breath is laboured, his grip unrelenting, pushing her into a tight space between ecstasy and… well, suffocation, probably. Her vision blurs slightly at the edges, but a dull prickling sensation creeps through her arms. Pins and needles.

She feels the slow return of blood flow, the sluggish tingling that signals her strength coming back. The feeling shoots through her hands, all the way to her fingertips. Soon… very soon, she’ll have enough control to move. To shove him off, regain the upper hand, and wipe that smug expression off his face. Or… Or she can let him keep going. Let him use her, drive her deeper into this haze of loathing-stunted pleasure.

“Y’know,” oh what the hell does he want now? “I could stop-"

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snaps, her voice rough from the pressure on her throat. His laugh vibrates against her back - he calls her a whore again. A cheap insult, but infuriatingly taunting nonetheless.

“Ugh,” she rasps, struggling for air, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re-”

He cuts her off with another brutal snap of his hips, his fingers tightening around her throat, making her clench her teeth around a particularly loud moan.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

Her arms twitch beneath her, the prickling sensation turning into something more solid. She can feel the strength returning, knows she can move if she really wants to. But does she want to?

“So fucking full of yourself,” she manages to spit out between gasps, but even as the words leave her lips, she’s not sure if she believes them. She’s close - too close to care about pride right now. Her hands flex against the sheets, feeling the last vestiges of numbness fade. She knows she has a choice to make.

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle, somewhere between a smug exhale than a giggle, his thumb brushing possessively along her jaw. “God, I can think of a great retort for that one,” he murmurs, his focus now on the ripple of her flesh as he buries himself into her again and again. “Bit on the nose, though, even f’me - ha, fuck.”

And then she notices he’s losing it. Rhythm’s all over the shop. Messy. Sloppy. He’s lucky he’s got such a maddeningly nice dick because he’s barely holding it together. And the grip? He’s not pulling her up to control her anymore - he’s using her to hold himself up. Leaning on her, pressing his weight down into her and her shaky arms that are just about holding her up. Idiot.

Ooh, he's close.

He shifts slightly, just enough to adjust his grip on her, and that’s when she moves.

She bucks once more. As hard as she can. A violent twist of her hips, using the last of her strength to wrench herself sideways, unbalancing him just enough to make him swear under his breath as he slips out of her.

She almost mourns the loss… but she certainly won’t waste it.

Her knee plants against the mattress, her body surging with a reckless, desperate twist. He tries to grab her, but she’s already moving, shoving her shoulder into his side, using her full weight to knock him off balance.

And then they’re falling.

They hit the floor hard, tangled, his hand shooting out to grab at her, but she’s already moving.

A scramble, her knee grinding into his ribs. A sharp shove. Teeth gritted. His growl’s met with a vicious laugh.

He reaches for her wrist. Stupid move.

She twists his arm instead. Slams his chest to the floor. Limbs tangled, messy, but she’s got him now. Breathless, glowing with sweat. Arousal. Victory.

“Finally,” she exhales, shaking the hair from her face as she plants her weight against him. “You alright down there, champ?”

He’s seething. Muscles coiled tight - and he’s still fucking hard despite it all. God, he’s pissed, and she's more than aware that she's got limited time to wrangle full control, so she’s already moving, already fumbling for the closest thing-

His belt.

Perfect.

Leather snaps free from his jeans with a crisp thhhhk, click-clack, and Sam’s eyes go wide, rage and panic flickering. He’s still throbbing, still right there on the edge, but everything’s slipping out of his hands. Stone to sand. All power gone. Kaput.

“Nah - no, no, no, no. We’re not doin’ this," His voice breaks, a low growl, a shot of panic. "We’re not-“

His laugh comes out stilted, but it quickly morphs into a guttural growl of frustration as he tries to throw her off. She digs in - knee to his shoulder blade, boot to the small of his back. It’s enough to pin him, pain sharp, getting the job done.

His hands press to the floor in a last-ditch effort to push up. “You arrogant, goddamn- Agh-”

Her hand’s in his hair. Brutal. His face gets shoved to the floor, cheek grinding against the rough, dirty surface.

“Shhh.” The slimy little bitch’s voice is low, condescendingly soothing - all a stark comparison to the way she yanks his arm round to his back. “Quit being so dramatic. You’re gonna get us noise complaints.”

He spits curses, body jerking beneath her, but it’s all in vain. Leather loops once, twice, three times. Tight somewhere between his wrists and his elbows. Just out of reach of his fingers. The buckle clinks. Coffin nailed shut.

By the time he stops thrashing, his breathing’s ragged, face half-planted on the floor, arms bound behind his back.

He’s trapped. Tense. Furious. Fuck this.

"Up you get, big boy." With a grunt of effort, she grabs the fabric of his trousers near the waist and braces herself, leaning back slightly to use her weight. It's not graceful, but it's effective. He resists, of course – a deliberate shift of his shoulders, a tensing of his limbs that makes it harder than it needs to be. She growls in frustration, her fingers digging into his flesh as she pulls. He shifts begrudgingly, his body fighting her for every inch as she hauls him upright.

Another shift, a last-ditch effort to resist, but finally - finally - he’s on his knees, breathing hard, eyes glued to the floor as he fruitlessly tries to tug apart his arms.

She looks down at him, noting the anger in his expression, as he looks over his shoulders to assess the binding situation he's in. Then, she glances at the rigid set of his cock sticking out of his jeans. A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as she mulls something over, sore lip pulled between her teeth.

“Show me your tongue.”

His head snaps in her direction, eyes shifting up towards her, but he remains silent.

“You heard me.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches.

“You’ve lost your mind,” he mutters, his brows furrowing as he looks up at her with that familiar blend of defiance and derision, swallowing at the sight of her nudity.

She cocks her head, the very picture of patient amusement, and sighs theatrically, as if his resistance is nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “Always the hard way with you, isn’t it?”

Her fingers find his jaw, the pads of them tracing the gentle edge of bone with mock delicacy, dragging down to his stubbled chin and around to the nape of his neck. Her touch is deceptively gentle, lulling him into a brief moment of unease.

He doesn’t like the way it feels. Softness isn’t her weapon of choice; she’s more prone to acting like the human equivalent of barbed wire, so this tenderness sets his nerves on edge. His eyes flicker, skittering over her face as she kneels to his level.

“Ah, shit-”

The words break from him as her fingers knot into his hair, the tenderness of her touch abruptly morphing into a sharp yank that forces his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, the motion starkly exposed in the taut column of his neck.

Sam tries to shift under her grip, angling his head in an attempt to take control of the movement, but she tightens her hold, keeping him off balance. It’s a deliberate cruelty, that refusal to let him get comfortable.

“Open your mouth,” she demands, her voice dropping. “And show me your fucking tongue, Sam.”

His eyes squint against the sharp tug of her grip, discomfort twisting his features as his teeth clench in defiance. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to push back, to spit some insult at her that will surely make her pull harder. She almost wants him to - any excuse to relish in this a little more.

But then her thumbnail skims over the head of his cock, fingers squeezing him gently, coaxing out a pretty bead of precum as her other hand digs fiercely into his scalp, sending a sharp pulse of debauched pain down his spine, and he realises - reluctantly - that there’s no winning this battle.

His lips part slightly, the smallest gesture of compliance, allowing a soft shudder of a gasp to slip. Enough to earn a triumphant quirk of her brow, nonetheless. Her smile sharpens, and he hates it. But still, he swallows his pride and lets his tongue dart out briefly as she pumps her hand tight around his slick shaft.

“There he is,” she murmurs, her tone laced with condescending approval. His eyes shut in an attempt to remove himself from the situation - just to focus on the feeling of being jerked off, and she watches him with parted lips of her own.

She exhales slowly, her hand loosening in his hair just enough for him to relax a fraction; her thumb hooks over his bottom lip, prying him open just a touch more, tip of it resting against his teeth.

It’s all a cruel mislead, of course - an opening for her next move. Her tongue rolls around the floor of her mouth, letting herself salivate for a moment as satisfaction rolls through her in waves.

With a sudden, fluid motion, she leans forward and spits. Directly onto his tongue. The wetness lands with an audible sound, catching him completely off guard. His body flinches instinctively, a mix of shock and disgust flashing across his face as his eyes snap open.

Sam recoils, twisting sharply in an attempt to pull away, but her hand tightens in his hair again, keeping him in place.

“Swallow it.”

He gawks at her, blinking, disbelief carving deep into his face. Then, defiant, just as she’s halfway to standing - he spits right back at her.

It lands on her thigh.

Her eyes track the slow slide of it, narrowing, sharp with intent.

"You're gonna clean that up."

It hits him sideways, enough to make him bark out a laugh and tell her she’s fucked in the head. He shifts, rocking back to stand, sick of it- but before he can get far, she’s got him. A sharp yank, fingers curling tight in his hair, dragging him between her thighs as she sits herself on the edge of the bed.

He fights. For a second. Maybe longer.

Jerks against her grip, muscles straining, breath sharp. A tangle of half-formed curses and gritted insults spill from his mouth. He bucks, twists, pushes back all sloppy and desperate. But it’s instinct more than anything.

She holds steady.

Unyielding. Even shushing him at one point, her harsh clawing at his hair turning into a patronising stroke.

Just a roll of her hips - grinding her cunt against his spit-slick lips. His breath stutters, his pulse a frantic hammer. He wants to pull back. He needs to, or he’ll never hear the end of this. But it’s already slipping - crumbling.

And she knows.

That faint, knowing smile. Just enough to gut him.

He loathes her. But right now, he's fucking powerless against the way she holds him, so he loathes himself just as much. The beauty of her contempt, the sight of her; swollen, dripping, so fucking pretty - it unravels him, inch by inch.

Lust coils around his willpower, thorned vines twisting, piercing, digging in deep, holding him there just as her thighs do. Every defiant twitch grows weaker. His fight crumbles, piece by piece, drowning under the weight of his own sickening want.

It’s like being stuck in a weird loop - one second clawing for control, the next watching it slip through his fingers. His mind spirals, blurring need with shame. Clawing for control. Losing it. Over and over again.

A shuddering sigh escapes him. Surrender. His mouth moves before his mind can catch up, tongue finding rhythm, following instinct. Thought dulls. Exhaustion takes hold.

She tastes incredible. Feels incredible. He lets her keep rubbing against his nose, his lips and tongue - hell, he even catches himself looking up at her to see how she reacts - if he’s doing a good job. And worst of all - he can feel his cock twitch as she damn-near suffocates him.

Fuck, he hates her. She sounds so goddamn pretty as she pants and mewls as she uses him like a toy, and he fucking hates her.

Her thighs tighten around his shoulders, boots digging into his back, tugging him in closer. He exhales, sharp, ragged. It fans over her clit and she laughs softly at his final act of dissent before it all caves in.

No words. No insults. Nothing.

Just her control.

And his capitulation.

She’s watching him. Half-lidded, eyes glazed, lips parted - lust-drunk.

Then, her head tilts and her eyes drop between his legs. She streams around his tongue when she sees how swollen he is, reminding herself of how he felt minutes ago.

A sharp tug - his hair burning against her grip as she pulls him away, just for a moment, just to drink in the sight of him - face slick, pupils blown, chest heaving. He barely has a second to catch his breath before she shifts, hands pressing against his shoulders, shoving him back.

He hits the ground with a ragged gasp, body thrumming, limbs heavy. The world tilts, his mind scrambling to keep up, but she’s already moving - crawling over him, her thighs bracketing his head, knees pressing firm into the floor.

His bound arms ache beneath him, shoulders burning, but it barely registers.

Sound, weight, scent - she drowns him in it, a force as consuming as the taste of her on his tongue. It suffocates, but he doesn’t fight it. No, he revels in it.

The pressure of her thighs, the slick heat against his mouth, the way she bears down with full intent - it dilutes the pain, the sheer humiliation, all eclipsed. And God, does he feast.

He laps over her, tracing the edge, tugging at her hardened clit, pulling a raspy cry from her, muffled by her thighs. He pushes his tongue just a little further, breaching and earning another gush as she braces her hands against the floor.

The sharp roll of his tongue, the relentless way he works her over - it’s almost too much. Her thighs twitch around his head, her breath coming in short, hitched gasps, and she knows she’s close. And she won’t give him that victory yet.

She moves because she wants to see his face - wants to see the mess she’s made of him. It’s not enough to feel him unravel beneath her; she needs to witness it. Needs to drink in the sight of him, sweat-damp and dazed, lips pink and slick, chest heaving from the effort of it all.

She lifts herself just enough to glance down, and - oh.

He’s a sight. Pupils dark and glassy, lips parted, jaw slack like he hasn’t quite remembered how to hold himself together. His shoulders twitch beneath the strain of being bound for so long, but he’s not focused on that.

Her legs feel unsteady as she moves, dragging herself up his body, heat still pulsing between her legs as she settles over his chest instead.

His face is slick with her, lips parted, gaze flickering between her eyes and the curve of her mouth, like he’s searching for something -defiance, permission, something he can twist back in his favour. But she doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she just smirks, tapping a single finger against his jaw. “Arms hurt?”

His eyes track her, blinking through the mess, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but instead, he just watches her. There’s defiance, of course, and something almost like curiosity.

“Arms. Shoulders,” he mutters, still catching his breath, his eyes narrowing up at her, “you try being tied up by a total amateur.”

She laughs lightly, breathless herself. “Could’ve fooled me, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

He groans, rolling his eyes, but there’s a hint of something that might be a laugh in there. “Enjoyin’ mysel- Jesus, you really are… not right in the head.”

Her smile sharpens, and she leans down, foreheads touching as she mimics his cadence. "You really are… not handling this well, are you?"

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his temple, but his voice comes out hoarse, lacking the bite. “I swear to God…”

She can’t help it - she laughs. Breathless and sooo giddy.

He shakes his head, hers still resting against his, a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to resignation. “I’m gonna break your damn neck in a min-“

She silences his cheapened fury in an instant - he doesn’t even realise she’s kissing him until she pulls away and his lazy threat slides back down his throat. She tilts her head, lips curving in that smug, infuriating way they always do.

“Get this shit off of me,” he grits, trying to hold onto something solid, cheeks warming despite his best efforts to keep it together.

Her grin spreads, slow and syrupy, and her fingers trace along his jaw, then down to the ink on his neck. Her hips press down, just enough to make him aware of the weight of her against him, soaked folds sliding over him.

“In a minute,” she chides.

He groans, a tongue pressing against his teeth, a mirthless huff of laughter escaping as he turns his head slightly. “Nope. Right now,” he mutters, but it’s more of a complaint than a command, his resolve fraying at the edges, worn thin under her touch.

She hums thoughtfully, as if actually considering it, before leaning closer, lips brushing his ear. "Do you want to finish?" Her tone is casual, light, like they’re talking about the weather.

Ugh. He rolls his neck, a sharp crack that makes her wince, but there’s no real venom left in him. Just frustration, heat, and a grudging acceptance of the situation.

“Thought so,” she murmurs with a grin, and she angles herself against his tip, he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

She watches him with curious intensity as she sinks down, a soft laugh and long exhale pulled out of her when he winces. Her cunt swallows him whole, searing her in two, boiling his blood, all the heat and tension and rage and exhaustion of this seemingly endless ordeal of being stuck together for weeks on end - making them a mess of tangled limbs and ragged breaths, sounds pulled out of both of them, her moans caught between sharp inhales, his teeth clenched around groans that scrape up his throat.

“Mm-ff-fuck-” he stutters, teeth snagging against his lower lip as he can’t prevent himself from fucking up into her any longer. “Y’know you’re so much more- ha- more tolerable like this.”

“Woah - was- was that a compliment?” She slows, letting him take the reins for a moment.

He laughs, head tilted back into the carpet. “Fat chance.”

“Oof,” She scoffs, leaning back to brace her hands on his thighs. She sits up fully, enveloping to the hilt and he watches himself repeatedly disappear into her, lips parted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over his breathing. Fuck, she loves the way his eyes roam her body - hungry, devouring, darting from the ripple of her stomach to the bounce of her tits, lingering on the flush that spreads over her skin, the sweat-slick glow catching in the dim lamplight. “And to think I was about to give you some… jargon about how nice your cock feels.”

“Wouldn’t want it.” He lies, eyes shut as he smirks to himself. “Servile praise never really did much for me.”

“Hah, well your tongue was acting pretty servile a second ago… ugh, fuck.” She groans, shunted forwards, hands smacking onto his chest to stop her falling flat onto him. He swears as she accidentally pushes more pressure on his arms. His shoulders flex, trying to balance the ache beneath him with the overwhelming pleasure of her on top, the cruel mix of restraint and indulgence that keeps him teetering on the edge.

She should leave him like this. Should keep him right where he is. But when he shifts beneath her, just enough to drag a ragged groan from deep in his chest. Something about it makes her cave. Maybe it’s pity, maybe it’s power, maybe it’s just the fact that she wants to see what he’ll do with his hands freed.

She reaches behind him, fingers working the buckle loose, and the second the belt slips away, his arms fly forward. One hooks around her waist, dragging her down so fast the breath jolts out of her, the other fists into her hair, yanking her into a kiss - clumsy, messy, all teeth and heat and unspent frustration. It’s not tender, not sweet. It’s nothing but a last-ditch attempt to swallow down the sounds she’s already torn from him, to reclaim some semblance of control before she can smirk against his mouth and make him feel even more, as she’d rightly put it, fucking pathetic.

She’s embarrassed him enough. He’s got to keep something to himself. He fucking groans anyway when he feels her clench around him.

She pulls back just enough to smirk. “What was that?”

“Will you shut your fucking mouth?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. Just flips them, shoving her onto her back, thrusting into her with new, unrestrained fervour. She gasps, half-laughing, half-moaning, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

“I get it,” she breathes between ragged inhales. “You - oh, fuck - you’ve gotta hold on to what little dignity you have left.”

His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring. “Be quiet.”

It’s a half-hearted command, lost between a sharp exhale and the way his pace turns frantic, his restraint fraying at the edges.

But she’s not faring much better. Her moans rise in pitch as his hand pushes between them, recklessly rubbing against her clit again - no doubt she’ll have something smart to say about him coming first - she writhes, arching up unto him, tits crushed against him, her thighs twitching around his waist, her nails pressing deep enough to leave crescents in his skin.

She gasps, startled as he presses against her almost painfully, and he takes the opportunity to bite down on her lower lip, just to feel her jolt against him, just to make sure he’s still got some say in how this plays out. But she’s never been one to let him win easily - her fingers twist into his hair, pulling just enough to sting, her hips rolling up against his in a way that makes him groan despite himself. He curses into her mouth, swallowing it down just in time.

Her body tightens beneath him, trembling, and god - he knows she’s close.

So is he.

“Gonna- ah, shit, c- can I cum in you?”

She swallows before she can register what he’s said, eyes squeezing shut as a stuttered cry tumbles out of her mouth - then she’s pulsing - gushing around him. Nails dug into spade, heart, club, diamond, as he fucks her through her climax. Lucky is right.

She feels nothing short of transcendental around him - the only thing putting a stop to him mindlessly telling her this is his own building panic.

“P- shit- fuckin’ answer me.”

Oh, he’s seriously asking? Her thighs tremble as she falls limp under him, nodding into his shoulder as a cock-drunk flash of a smile plasters its way onto her lips.

His hand quickly tangles into her hair as a ragged, stuttering groan resonates in his chest; the jerky, force of his hips against her thighs bruises as he succumbs to his own release. She’s all-encompassed by a sudden warmth filling her up, the intensity of her heartbeat thrumming away in her ears.

He lets out a long huff of air, hand snatched from between them as he braces himself against the ground, breathing heavily.

For a moment, neither of them move, bodies buzzing with the mental and physical aftershock, chests rising and falling out of sync.

He eventually rolls off of her, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What... the hell was that?”

She huffs, staring at the ceiling. “Your poor anger management.”

He turns his head to glare at her, but there’s no real bite to it, just exhaustion and the ghost of humiliation he’s struggling to swallow. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly a picture of restraint either.”

She shrugs, stretching her arms above her head as she sits up, cheeks flushed, hair matted. “You called me frigid. Had to prove you wrong.” He snorts, full of resentment.

A few more beats of silence, then- “What are you smiling about?”

She bites back the smug little grin threatening to spread wider, rising to her feet. “C-c-c-can I c-c-cum in you?” She stutters, blatantly ribbing, voice pitched in a terrible imitation of his desperation.

His jaw twitches, shuts his eyes, grits his teeth. Ugh. “Your presence is excruciating.”

She clicks her tongue, gesturing to the pearly liquid slowly dribbling down her inner thigh. “Sooo excruciating.”

He groans, shoving a hand through his hair, looking very much like a man questioning his life choices. “Fuck off.”

“I am.” She steps over him, standing on shaky limbs with an obnoxious head tilt as she goes for one of the poorly folded scratchy towels on the dresser. “I’m not leaking all over the floor. Even if you’re sleeping there. I have standards.” He makes a face, brows furrowing, mouth parting slightly like he wants to argue but just… can’t.

She watches the realisation dawn on him with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Jesus Christ.” He groans, flopping back onto the carpet, throwing an arm over his eyes. She laughs as she heads for the bathroom. His hand blindly grabs for his belt, launching it in her direction with an irked grunt.

It thuds against the door as she shuts it behind her. He exhales sharply, rubbing at his jaw. Stares at the ceiling. Fuck.

[transformers-spike]

I've been loving all the sparkling hc and such it's giving me brain rot

You're sleeping in bed until you wake up and see your creepy little cybertronian daughter with a frowny face emoticon on her face screen.

"I threw up." She has a similarly monotone as Soundwave.

Also I'm imagining the human partner lives on earth while soudwave works back on the nemesis till his shift ends.

She likes to wrap her tentacles around you for hugs.

KO with split spark sparklings

One is a little angel baby princess who hates getting dirty or scratches on her paint and would rather play indoors. Knockout had to physically carry her at times because she refuses to walk or drive on dirt.

The other is a menace to society, loves driving fast even if it means wrecking himself. Absolutely enjoys human culture and earth as a planet. Best friendsb with Breakdown's sparkling. Sweet kid but is a huge mess maker.

You try not to snort as your kids hands Knockout an entire rose bush, stem, roots, dirt and all.

"I love it" Knockout smiles through thinly veiled disgust and your sparkling beams.You end up planting it in the back garden.

Starscream's kid is 100% his pride and joy even though he tries to pretend like she's not. His sparkling would either be the most arrogant thing possible or super sweet no in-between. When she's too small to fly on her own she rides in his cockpit but as she gets bigger they fly together and he definitely shows her fancy flight maneuvers. Father-daughter dates because he wants her to have high standards.

You watch your daughter's wings droop and lower derma pout as she begs you for the toys from her favorite cartoon.

"Pleeeeeeaase, they're limited time edition."

Her puppy dog eyes might work on Starscream but not you....right, right? Stay strong soldier.

I like to imagine megs with a daughter aswell (you get a daughter and you get a daughter 🫵) while it would be karmic debt to get a kid whos really sensitive it's much funnier if the child is a gremlin.

"Your time is up Megatron."

Optimus points his blaster down at him but he catches something the corner of his optic. A sparkling jumps infront of Megatron before Optimus can shoot him.

"Using your own sparkling as a shield is low even fo-"

He's cut off as Megs daughter tranforms into a gun and shoots him.

"You were saying, Prime"

Gun alt mode is so fucking funny to me.

YESSSSSS I LOVE THE SPARKLING BRAINROT Soundwave's kid is the scariest most intelligent baby ever. Very affectionate with her mom, but also very likely to eliminate whatever she thinks is "threatening" her caretaker. Her creepy voice is perfection - makes me wonder if her dad ever speaks to her despite his vow of silence - or if he just sticks to EM field communication Lmao Knock Out's split-sparks are are his punishment for being the way he is. They each adopted some of his worst traits lmao. You'd think the twins don't get along but - no - it's even worse. One of them is great at manipulation, while the other is an adrenaline junkie who keeps crashing into his sire's pedes - together, they're unstoppable. If they unite forces with Breakdown's kid, they'll end the world together I personally loveeee the concept of Starscream starting off being like ew towards his own child before eventually bonding with her and being overwhelmed by his need to protect this part of himself. Still in denial abt it- even tho he shadows her constantly during flights and acts way nicer than he does to anyone else. Also the type of parent who refuses to think his kid has done anything wrong lol Megatron with a feral daughter is the best. I'm telling you, she's been gnawing on him since day one. Imagine she turns into something similar to G1 Galvatron's alt-mode - a turret-gun of sorts. She may not cause all that much damage, but her role model is carnage incarnate. Now watch her follow in his pede-steps

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar, Cubed

Photo found on Pinterest

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, little bit of slow burn. Main character injury, allusions to sex, sexual tension, indecent proposal, caught between two lovers trope, idiots in love, Tony being Tony, truth or dare, talk of voyeruism, possibility of group sex, eventual polyandry.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part one, part two will be posted next week. I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

You met the two most hated men in your life while you were living together as recipients of the prestigious Stark STEM Fellowship at NYU.

There was an instant spark when you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, best friends from childhood. They sarcastically named you Sugar because of your initial rudeness, but the nickname just stuck around after you warmed up to them.

In the Stark Fellows program, life was hard work and hard play. Soon it was down to just you, Bucky and Steve, and life was a dream with parties, booze, and almost anything you wanted, as long as you lent your minds to the work.

Tony Stark tolerated anything that would keep productivity high. He knew that all work and no play would make Bucky, Sugar and Steve dull scientists.

So he encouraged you three to play. And funded it too.

Steve and Bucky were so protective of you, their sweet Sugar. The sexual tension that came with living with them was heady stuff.

You basked in the glow of Bucky and Steve's attention, while observant of the lines of partners at their bedroom doors and the competitiveness between the football quarterback and lacrosse captain.

You swore that neither Bucky nor Steve would ever win you, no matter the plays they made. But they each had you sprung in different ways. And they were so damn competitive.

They both wanted your heart.

It was only a matter of time before you gave it to each of them.

You fell hard for Bucky first. And it was urgent and intense.

But after just a year together, Bucky accepted a position with Stark Labs in Bucharest for a term that stretched into two years as he completed grad school at Politehnica. It happened without warning. You were angry at his choice and trapped in New York by your own contract with Stark for graduate work. 

You and Bucky were over. And you were heartbroken.

Steve’s waiting arms were open, and it was effortless and freeing to realize that the golden boy was the one who truly loved you. And he’d always been there. Your heart healed. You thought.

According to social media, Bucky seemed to love his new location, extending his contract beyond the initial year-long contract to finish his degree. It seemed that all he did was work.

Not that you were stalking his IG or anything.

He didn’t communicate with you directly, and with Steve only intermittently. It was like he’d erased his best friend and his best girl from his life. 

It made sense, since his best girl was now his best friend’s girl.

Then, during his second year, Bucky's stay in Romania was cut short,  he came back to New York, although not in the way you imagined.

Bucky had been critically injured; losing a limb. Tony made sure he had the best care, flying with Bucky to Wakanda for experimental surgery and overseeing his recovery. 

You found out via a social media after Bucky was back in town, and not from Tony or anyone else.

You were livid.

You raged at Steve, who had lied to you that he had to go to London for two weeks for work when he was actually in Wakanda at Bucky’s bedside.

The betrayal ran deep.

You and Steve were done after that, although you continued to work side by side at the labs. You felt as if Tony was trying to drive you over the edge, having you work around the clock with your ex. But he didn’t care. He had some insane theory that the tension would yield better results.

Each day, you longed for the hour that you could go to your posh new quarters in Stark tower. Although it was lonely, at least your apartment was private, and you could unwind in peace. Your days were tense, but predictable.

Until they weren’t anymore.

——

One afternoon, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stared into the monitor to watch the results from the latest compound analysis roll numbers across your workstation.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You froze, looking up and out over Manhattan through the window above your station. You couldn’t believe it, but you saw a pale reflection of him in the mirrored glass.

You slowly turned around.

Bucky looked good, his pale complexion not all the result of the blue gray skies over the Hudson. His face had grown more angular, his hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed older, but outside, he was the same Bucky. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. 

Bucky Barnes seemed whole, except his left hand, the “golden arm” that was the pride of Bobcat football, was now black and gold metal. 

Vibranium. 

You stared at it as it reached for you.

“So I don’t get a hug?” 

Your eyes moved to his face while Steve cleared his throat and reminded you that he was there. You tried to forget his existence most days, but Bucky walking into your lab had erased him from your mind completely. For a moment.

“Sugar–”

You cut him off.

“Fuck you, Grant.” 

You looked back at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“And fuck you, James.”

Despite your epithets, you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with emotion.

“How could you…?”

You whispered it into his suit coat, your fingers digging into the material at his back as you cried into his shoulder. Bucky held you tight against him, and he felt harder, more solid. 

You realized that under all of the anger and hurt, you were mainly just relieved that he was alive.

Over two years of anxiety and unprocessed feelings were coming out, and Bucky rocked you as your body heaved. Steve came up behind you and hugged you both.

For a minute you relished the feeling, being held by the only two men that you ever had feelings for. You felt safe. But then you remembered the secrets and the lies, and anger flooded you again. You twisted out of their grasp.

“Don’t get any ideas, assholes.”

You moved away from them and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold.

“Do you know how worried I was? No one gave me any information. At all. I had to find out from social media. I felt like a fool, Bucky.”

You scowled at him.

“And you. You knew that, Cap. And you lied to my fucking face.”

You glared at Steve.

You looked from Steve to Bucky, who shared a guilty glance with each other. 

“That’s my fault, Sugar. I– I made Tony and Steve swear not to tell you.”

Your dark haired ex boyfriend looked at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his new hand. He held it up and looked at it and then at you.

“Didn’t know how you would feel about this.”

You ignored the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes.

"What do you want? A cookie? A pat on the head?  A tear? You are not going to make me feel sorry for you. Not when you let everyone else but me in on your secret."

You cocked your head and gazed curiously at the new appendage, then back at him.

“Bucky, I am stronger than you think. And I loved you.”

Both Steve and Bucky winced at the word ‘loved,’ but both for different reasons.

“I would have accepted you anyway you came. And I would have been by your side while you recovered. But you didn’t want that. But it looks as if you’re fine.” 

Steve sat back down at his workstation, resigned. You shook your head at him. If it wouldn’t have cost you a million dollars, which you didn’t have, you would have walked out of Stark Industries and moved across the world. But you had work to do.

“You’re interrupting our work here. You need to leave.”

You wanted him away from you like fire.

“That’s what I’m tryna tell you, Doll.” 

Bucky strolled over to the locker area and took off his coat, grabbing goggles and a lab coat.

“I’m reporting for duty. Tony assigned me back to the New York lab.”

—-

Tony leaned against the bar in his office, after he downed the drink that he’d offered you and that you’d refused. It was only 10:46 am. You were trying to hand in your resignation. Or at least ask for a transfer to a new location.

“And just where do you think you’re going to go, Sugar?”

You glared at your boss. Bolstered by anger, this was the least intimidated, and most angry, you’d ever been at him.

“Paris, maybe? Tokyo? Hell, even Des Moines. I’ll take anything. I need space.”

Tony shook his head. 

“I need you here. The productivity with Barnes back is about to be through the roof.”

You just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not thinking with your brain. Your heart and what is pounding between your legs are in the way.” 

Your mouth dropped open.

“...But the tension between you Barnes and Rogers will make me a lot of money. I’ve studied you since your freshman year. I know what makes you tick, what motivates you to do your best work. And the numbers don’t lie. Being right in the middle of Bucky and Cap makes lots of money for Stark Industries.”

You stared out at the view of New Jersey, outraged.

“Besides. I have the exclusive contract over your mind, body, and soul for the next seven years. Might as well make the most of it.”

You sighed and took the drink Tony offered you this time.

—-

Bucky Barnes was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, second only to Steve Rogers.

Your brain was scrambled when you weren’t working, so you worked that much harder to stay in control. You hated when Tony was right.

Here you were, flanked by two gorgeous men whose work clothes only accentuated their powerful bodies. Bodies that you knew very well. Your tongue had traced every plane of each of them. Your hands explored their broad shoulders and taught, muscular frames. Your fists had clenched their throbbing cocks and you had accepted them inside you. 

No matter how mad you were at them, you couldn’t get them out of your mind.

Imagining Bucky crashing his lips to yours as he backed you up against a wall made your core throb. And dreaming about Steve’s hands around your thighs as he lifted you onto a lab table made your nipples tingle.

Working in between them in the lab was torture for your neglected body and soul. You were doomed to work in  between the two men who’d fucked you most thoroughly and recently.

You didn’t even want to think about your heart.

You ignored the lingering looks in their blue eyes, the way they gentled their voices when they spoke to you, and the way they tried to come in contact with you for no reason. The number of times fingers lingered over passed specimens, the way space became so tight that they had to squeeze behind you in the lab, and the uncomfortable number of times you ended up between them in the equipment closet made you lose your breath.

Steve and Bucky never pressed you for anything, and all you had to say was ‘excuse me,’ for them to move out of your way, but it was untenable. You would give neither of them the satisfaction of getting upset. You managed made it through work and home to your brand new vibrator every night after long days of fighting their pheromones in the lab.

After a week of forced proximity, you were experiencing the forced Stark Industries Happy Hour. As you waited for your drink at the bar, you thought it strange that Tony had never made them mandatory before Bucky came back. That was quite the coincidence.

You wanted to pace yourself with your drinking as you realized that you had to stay there for another couple of hours to get the bonus that came with attendance. The word ‘happy’ and the names Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers did not go together, so you participated in each round to numb the desire that was plaguing you. 

For someone so smart. You were so clueless sometimes.

—-

As you rode the elevator in Stark Tower to your apartment later that evening, it seemed as if the elevator was moving extra slowly. You didn’t know if it was the tequila affecting your senses, or an actual malfunction, so you asked FRIDAY for analytics, but for some reason, she said you didn’t have clearance for the answer.

You were mad and mute for a minute, trying to clear your head for the security code. It was then that one of your fellow passengers, who you were trying to ignore, broke the silence.

“Okay Sugar, truth, or dare?”

You looked at him as Steve watched you both. 

“I said, truth, or dare.”

“Truth is Bucky, we’re not kids anymore.”

“So you pick truth. You don’t get to pick the question, though.”

Bucky ignored your ire.

“Which one of our cocks is better, mine or Steve’s?”

Your eyes widened and you gasped as Steve interjected,

“Buck…”

“What, Punk? Remember she rated them before she experienced them. Did that hold out? Or did she tell you that you were the 9.9 too?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching the floor count, mouth set in a thin line. You had not, in fact, told Steve that he was the 9.9. 

“Stop being a little shit, James.” 

You were rocked, memories flooding back, dysregulating your nervous system even more.

“So you’re saying you won't answer the truth?”

You crossed your arms and legs as you leaned back against the elevator wall. You looked up at the floor indicator lights, trying to stop the emotions from getting to you.

“You can pass. Or you can take a dare, Sugar.”

You huffed, fighting the urge to just say pass. Some lingering adolescent urge refused to let you.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

You spoke it outwardly, but you were talking to yourself, to your riotous body, which was reacting to these two men in this enclosed space in the most alarming way.

Bucky was watching you intently, but Steve hadn’t turned around, just replied in that voice of his.

“Those are the rules, Sugar. You should probably answer the question or take the dare.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you realized what this was. You were dealing with male egos and competitiveness. And they wanted to know the answer, hear you talk about their cocks when for some reason the agave gods were making you horny.

You had to get out of there. 

“You’re not making stupid bets and putting notches in the bedposts any longer. Bucky, we were together, and then you left. I thought it was something that it was not. Then Steve and I got together. I loved you both and in return, you both played me. You both won.” 

Steve turned around and faced you as Bucky advanced closer. He licked his lips and you wanted, no you needed, to run.

“You think I didn’t love you, Sugar? Shit, I worshiped you.”

The sensation of Bucky’s firm body crowding you in bed, taking up the mattress, leg wedged between your thighs while he delivered hot kisses and a slow grind against your clit came out of nowhere. You missed it. You wanted it again. But you lifted your chin as you straightened your spine, determined to resist him.

“You left me.”

“Stark made me!”

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with emotion.

“‘S’okay Buck. She doesn’t believe I loved her either. Even though I always have. And I caught her when you were gone.”

You looked up at Steve and saw the hurt, and you were preparing not to care, but the feeling of Steve naked against your back, his hands roaming all over you, whispering assurances and praise as he rocked inside and made you come apart in his grip almost made your knees buckle.

You had to move, so you pushed at the rock hard wall of them and they let you move them to get to the elevator controls.

“Why. Won’t. This. Thing. Move!?!?”

You pushed too many buttons at once as Steve and Bucky tried to stop you. The only thing that stopped was the slow progress of the elevator. The small room jolted to a halt, and you stumbled, right into Bucky and Steve’s arms as everything went dark.

“Well now, Sugar. You should have just taken the dare.”

Bucky’s sass enraged you and you cursed and batted their hands away from you as you reached for your purse to find your phone.

—-

A half an hour later, you were all sitting on the floor, Bucky’s jacket beneath you and Steve’s jacket around your arms because the climate control was off. There was no telling how long it would be before someone would find you.

There had been silence since you realized you had not cell phone signal and cursed for 3 minutes straight. You were more than sober now.

God, you wished you were drunk.

“Answer the question. Or take the dare, Sugar.”

This time it was Steve.

“Your fucking competitiveness is so annoying, you know that? Can you two accomplish anything on your own, just for your own pride? Or altruism? Or shits and giggles?”

You could feel their eyes on you in the dark. You fought against them in the darkness, or you were just fighting the darkness, because the lack of sight was enhancing your other senses, and lord you didn’t really want to feel those right now.

“Truth. Or Dare?”

Bucky’s velvet voice was undeterred. You shook your head at it.

“Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone. Dare.”

“I dare you to give up control.”

The response was immediate, as if he were waiting for you to say that.

You groaned, a sound that sounded to sensual, even to your own ears. You were going for annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m stuck in an elevator with my two exes. This is a nightmare. And you’re daring me to give up a concept?”

He chuckled.

“Not the concept of control. I think you know exactly what I mean. Give me control. One long weekend. It will be just like when we were roommates. But without the endless teasing and blue balls. This time you give us both that we deserve.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?”

Your head turned toward Steve, whose voice was on edge.

“I get to watch. You and Sugar, Steve. And direct. And participate…and we find out who is the best…”

“Hold on…”

You could feel Steve shifting in his position on the floor.

“Are you talking about….? Watching me and Sugar… what–?”

“Really Bucky? Do you have a metal brain as well?”

You wanted to fight, but them touching you was out of the question. Bucky was pure chaos.

“If we do this, what would that accomplish?”

“The fuck are you entertaining this nonsense for, Steve? Who the fuck–”

Bucky interrupted your rant.

“Well, you’ve entertained both of us, Sugar, haven’t you? Teased us. Toyed with us. Played us against the other. Wore our clothes and nothing else, slept between us in our bed. Teased us with that body well before we could really do anything about it.”

You dropped your head in your hands, exhausted, as Bucky continued.

“And then, when you finally granted us between your legs, one by one, there was always this spector hanging over the bed, or the floor, or the counter, or the lawn that we fucked on, wasn’t there?”

Bucky paused and you heard the bitterness in his voice. 

“The other one of us was always in the closet or the bushes, or in your head, weren’t we?”

"Don't blame me for your twisted predilections, Bucky."

“What about your predilections, Sugar? You’ve played us against each other long enough. Don’t forget. We both know what gets you off.”

Bucky’s voice wrapped around you in the dark, and you wanted to climb on and ride it as your clit began to pulse. You cursed your body’s reaction to him.

“We know what gets you off hard. Steve told me everything. And it was the same as with me. Your fantasies, Sugar…”

Steve spoke up.

“Bucky, this is uncalled for…”.

"Stop being such a boy scout."

“We know you, Sugar. What we don’t know is who you like the best. We deserve to know.”

“Bucky…”

“It would give us all closure, Steve.”

“You’re crazy, Bucky.”

“Put up or shut up, Sugar.”

Suddenly the lights came back on and you scrambled to stand up as the elevator started again, this time moving at normal speed. You looked between one man who was flushed red and the other who had a smirk on his face.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, as you bolted out, you replied to Bucky.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other? That will kill two birds with one stone.”

——

Next part: Simple Sugar

Let me know if you like it! 😊

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I plot a romance story?

Most advice and plot structures I have found seem to be focused on quest-type stories. Do you have any advice or templates that are mpre easily applicable to romance stories? Do I need to include another major plotline?

Basic Romance Structure

Like most stories, there are different theories and methods about structure, and you can find these by Googling "romance story structure." However, let me walk you through a basic romance structure to show you the differences and similarities with the kind of structure you'd use for something like a quest story or an adventure story.

Introduction/Normal World - Like most stories, romance stories usually open with a peek at the protagonist's "normal world" as a means of introducing who they are and what their life is like. And, as with other stories, this also introduces us to the both characters' internal conflicts. In romance, rather than resolving the internal conflict with growth in relation to the story events, the internal conflict will be resolved via change/growth in relation to the romance. [Example: Sandi is a florist with a four-year-old daughter, navigating single parenthood after her husband filed for divorce and ran away to chase a dream.]

The "Meet Cute" - This is essentially the inciting incident... the moment the two characters meet for the first time, or the first time in a long time. All in one moment, we see how undeniably right they are for each other, but due to their individual internal internal conflicts, they're butting heads big time.

[Example: Sandi meets Brent, the new flower supplier who is adorable, sweet to Sandi's daughter, but infuriatingly inept at doing things the way she likes them.]

Forced Proximity - After the "meet cute," something will inevitably force them to spend time together. They get partnered together on the same job, stuck together in the same place, keep coincidentally bumping into each other... whatever. All that matters is that they're forced to get to know each other despite their head butting.

[Example: they get roped into working together on the town's rose festival.]

Resistance/Rejection - Now that they're forced to interact for whatever reason, they're going to spend a lot of time resisting their mutual interest/desire for one another due to whatever obstacles exist, like being from warring factions or one being in the middle of a divorce. But despite this resistance, we can see the sparks flying between them, even if they can't or don't want to admit it.

[Example: Sandi wants to focus on running her business and raising her daughter; Brent just got out of a long relationship and isn't ready for romance.]

Waning Resistance/Giving Love a Chance - Eventually there's a breakthrough... the obstacle gives way... they have a really fun time hanging out at the Christmas market and almost kiss... they move past the misunderstanding between them... or maybe they just slowly get over their issues and start to fall in love. Either way, they decide to give the relationship a go.

[Example: as they get to know each other and bond through working on the rose festival, they can't deny how compatible they are and an unexpected first kiss gives Brent the courage to ask Sandi out on a date, to which she agrees.]

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back - This is essentially the first date, then another one, then another one... though it doesn't have to be actual dates. It just needs to be some interactive scenes when they're in relationship mode. Each of these interactions will deepen their feelings for one another while at the same time raising new obstacles or re-raising the old ones.

[Example: the first date goes well except that Sandi is preoccupied with the fact that her daughter is staying with a new sitter. The second date goes okay, except Brent is in a bad mood after his ex came to town to pick up the last of her things. Then they pull an all-nighter to make some final preparations for the upcoming rose festival, which leads to a philosophical conversation about the future, wherein Sandi says she sees herself getting remarried one day and having another kid or two, and Brent says he can't ever see himself getting married or being a father.]

This Isn't Going to Work - This is the midpoint crisis... the "all is lost" moment where one or both put on brakes and say, "I can't do this," citing whatever obstacle/s that now stand in the way of their happiness. Sometimes this follows their biggest act of intimacy yet, whether that's simply their first kiss or going all the way. It could even be the first declaration of love, being introduced to family, or some other important early relationship milestone. But then it all falls apart... maybe because one or more of the obstacles become too much, a fear-based retreat, or some other external force

[Example: the rose festival has arrived... Sandi is there with her daughter and parents, Brent is there with his mom and sister. Everyone meets, Brent continues to be great with Sandi's daughter... it's obvious Brent and Sandi belong together. But then Sandi's wayward not-yet-officially-ex-husband shows up and wants to get back together. Although she's ambivalent, seeing him interact with their daughter and her parents makes her realize giving him another chance is what's best for their daughter. Meanwhile, Brent witnesses this from far away, thinks, "I'm not good enough for a family like that," and he and Sandi go their separate ways.]

On Second Thought... - This is the moment when something happens that makes one or both characters realize they belong together... that the obstacles aren't real or don't matter... [Example: Brent finds a drawing Sandi's daughter made of the three of them together that makes him realize he really is worthy of their love. And Sandi sees that her husband hasn't changed, that he's still focused on chasing dreams that aren't what's best for their daughter... or herself, for that matter. ]

The Moment of Declaration - This is where the one character finds the other, or they find each other, and one or both declare their love and commitment to the other, despite whatever obstacles there may be. This is the run through the airport to catch the other before they fly away to a new life. It's the objection at the wedding before the other can go forward with the less-than-ideal marriage. It's the boombox on the shoulders, the kiss in the rain, the "I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on" declaration in a foggy field at sunrise. [Example: Brent hears from a friend that Sandi's husband left again. He goes to the last night of the rose festival, finds Sandi, and tells her he wants all of it... her, the daughter, her quirky parents, the flower shop, marriage, more kids... he is ready to take on the world with her, and she couldn't be happier.]

The Happily Ever After or "HEA" - This is the story's denouement, where we flash forward a few days, weeks, or more and see the happy ending. This is the jump ahead a few months to see the happy couple living their lives together, the one year leap ahead to the wedding, or a leap ahead to a moment even further down the road when the couple is firmly established in their HEA.

[Example: two years later, Sandi and Brent have been married almost a year, and are at the rose festival with the now six-year-old and their newborn twins, Sandi's parents, and Brent's mom and sister, one big happy family.]

Now... like I said, there are a variety of different structure templates for romance as there are for other genre stories. Don't feel like you have to pick one, and if you do, don't feel like you have to stick to it exactly. Story structure is just a guideline to help make sure you hit the important points to help the story unfold.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[shadowdaddies]

hi! i firstly wanted to tell you how much i love your writing and how perfectly you write every character. you’re so talented😊

i was wondering if you could write an eris x reader where it’s at the high lord meeting or some other big event and reader is part of the night court, maybe related to one of them, but mated to Eris and nobody knows. maybe something happens like Beron insults her or one of the Inner Circle insults him and they accidentally reveal the bond by getting protective? it can have like soft, comforting smut as well if you’d like but either way, i trust you completely :)

thank you so much! you are so kind, this ask made my day. and I love this prompt, I had a lot of fun writing this💜

Heated Admissions

Eris x Reader

warnings: none

Shoulders rolled back, you schooled your features into your practiced Night Court facade. A deadly glimmer shone in your eye, confident smirk on your lips as you followed you High Lord and Lady into the chambers where the other High Lords were gathered. 

Heart pounded, nostrils flaring slightly the moment you entered the room, your mate’s presence intoxicating despite your best efforts to ignore him. Like a moth to the flame, you allowed your gaze to flick to Eris’s as you took your place across him at the long table, each of you standing behind your High Lords. 

Amber eyes were already focused on you, Eris’s eyes raking over you as though he were sizing up an unworthy opponent. But behind his piercing glare, Eris sending a wave of admiration and encouragement down the bond. 

You flashed him a cocky smirk, appearing taunting to everyone else around you, all the while sending him your own love as you leaned against the wall, arms crossed as you looked down your nose at Beron.

Azriel grew tense at your side, your hand finding your friend’s arm to give a comforting squeeze, internal satisfaction seeping through you at the confirmation that the tonic had worked. Unwilling to take any chances of your hidden mateship being discovered, you and Eris had each taken a tonic to dilute the scent of the mating bond - but you had never tested it until now.

While Azriel relaxed next to you, Beron’s murky brown eyes stayed trained on you, his gaze assessing in a different way as Rhys introduced you to the room. 

“This is my Military Advisor. She will be explaining our strategy against Hybern moving forward,” Rhys drawled, a lazy smirk settling over his features, violet eyes alight with challenge as Beron and Tamlin visibly tensed.

You stepped forward, hands clasped in front of you, nodding a polite greeting to the High Lords as you prepared to lay out your proposal for a joined strategic effort. 

You’d hardly opened your mouth when Beron guffawed, allowing himself a loud, mocking laugh through his sneer. He did not address you, not Feyre, instead looking to Rhysand. 

“You think that I care what proposal some young, lowborn female has to offer? Surely, Rhysand, things cannot be going so poorly for you in the Night Court that you’ve resorted to such sad excuses for leadership and guidance.”

Rhys’s power rolled off of him in dark waves, cutting off Beron before he could continue further. But it was too late. Eris’s eyes were glowing with barely contained fury, flames sparking at his fingertips as his gaze flicked between his father and you.

Azriel tracked Eris’s reaction as well, the Illyrian’s siphons glowing a bright cobalt as he misjudged your mate’s protective instincts as a threat. Wings twitched, your only hint before Azriel lunged across the table towards Eris.

Time seemed to slow as your adrenaline kicked in, hand flying for the collar of Azriel’s leathers as you pulled him back. Hazel eyes found yours, the spymaster uncharacteristically startled by the feral anger that left your entire body shaking. “Do not touch my mate,” you growled before you could register the words.

Gasps sounded throughout the room, Azriel’s jaw slack while he relaxed, nodding at you in understanding. You flashed him an apologetic smile before turning to face the rest of the room, bracing yourself to stand against Beron’s wrath.

Instead, a frightful smile spread fully across the High Lord of Autumn’s face, a wicked gleam in his eye as his eyes roamed over your body in a far different light than earlier. “Well, my son, it seems that you have more interests in the Night Court than I’d gathered.” 

The tension grew unbearably thick, Autumn and Night Courts poised to jump at each others’ throats in the blink of an eye. 

But it was Helion who cleaved the silence like a spell, the rich timbre of his voice blanketing the room in a sense of calm. “How wonderful that two Courts so often at odds with each other would find the greatest common ground, love.” The wink he sent your way before continuing sending a furious blush over your cheeks, “but I would love to continue the conversation which so many have journeyed here for, if our lovely Military Advisor would continue.”

No one dared to question the High Lord of Day, settling in as you spoke. Leaving the meeting, you felt surprisingly optimistic from the High Lords’ reactions to your plan, Feyre and Rhys encouraging you that you would debrief further in the morning. You didn’t miss the pointed look that Rhys gave you - one that would strike fear into most anyone - indicating the debrief would include divulging of information from you about the mating bond.

Bidding them good night, you turned on your heel towards the room in which you were staying, shoulders slumped as exhaustion and anxiety weighed you down. You shouldered the door open, thinking of your mate as you stumbled through. You had wanted to see him more than anything, but after the Inner Circle’s reaction tonight, you didn’t dare seek Eris out.

Spinning around, you locked the door behind you, letting your head rest against the wood as you sighed, mind reeling with the potential ramifications of that meeting.

“Something on your mind?” a familiar voice purred from behind you, your spirits instantly lifting as you turned to see Eris’s red hair glowing in the dim faelight. A feline grin graced his lips as the Autumn Lord sprung gracefully from the bed, the smell of cinnamon invading your senses as he strode closer.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, hand finding his sharp jawline as you searched whiskey eyes for any sign of worry. Eris simply chuckled, mirthful gaze set on you as he tilted his head into your palm.

Tongue flicked out against the skin there, to be swallowed by a warm, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “I am just fine, my love. I am assessing my father’s stance on us, and will adjust my plans accordingly. For now, all I want is to be with you.”

His eyes were soft at the admission, unguarded emotion that he only allowed to you see giving you the peace you needed. “I’m all yours,” you promised, pulling your mate in for a searing kiss before you led him towards the bed.

[dee-writes-anime]

haii!! blue here! 🫐

a birdie told me that your requests are open yehehe (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

thinking about keigo x reader where they promised to marry each other while they were kids just to met again years later

or

keigo x reader where reader is a single parent from a little kid

thankyouu have a great day or night <3

- blue

Soaring Sons with Hawks

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami x Reader

SUMMARY Meeting your son for the first time :) (request by blue)

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, single mom, toddler/elementary age kid, hawks being super soft and parental (??)

AUTHORS NOTE Thank you so much for the ask, blue!! I hope I did your thoughts justice with this single-mom reader fic. I apologize for the shorter writing, my boss decided to up my hours this week so I've been dying between classwork and that T-T

Keigo had faced impossible situations before—battling villains, saving lives, even surviving high-profile scandals that shook him to his core. But standing in front of your door, waiting to meet the most important person in your life, he felt a nervousness he hadn’t experienced in years.

His wings shifted restlessly behind him, feathers trembling with the weight of his nerves. You had told him to take things slow—Ren was shy, and this was a big step. But that wasn’t what gnawed at Keigo’s gut.

It was the fear of not being enough. Not for you, and certainly not for your son.

The door opened, and there you stood, framed by the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, your smile gentle yet a little tentative. At your side, holding your hand, was Ren—small and quiet, his wide eyes staring up at Keigo with an innocent kind of wonder that made the hero’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, your fingers giving Ren’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come in, Keigo.”

“Hey,” Keigo echoed, his usual playful lilt softer now, more cautious. He stepped through the door, folding his wings close to avoid knocking into anything, but his gaze was completely focused on Ren.

He crouched down, making sure not to loom over the boy, trying to make himself as unthreatening as possible. Ren stayed tucked behind your leg, peeking out at him, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“So, you must be the little superhero I’ve been hearing all about,” Keigo said, his voice warm and gentle, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He kept his tone low, not wanting to overwhelm the boy.

Ren blinked, his grip on your hand still tight but loosening just a bit as his gaze flitted between Keigo and his wings.

“You have wings,” Ren whispered, his small voice breaking the silence. “Like a birdie.”

Keigo couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Slowly, he unfurled one of his wings, letting the feathers shimmer in the light as they shifted softly.

“Yeah, pretty cool, huh?” Keigo said, giving his wings a little flap to show them off. “Wanna touch ‘em?”

Ren hesitated, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. When you gave him an encouraging nod, he stepped forward, reaching out tentatively with his small hand to graze the edge of Keigo’s wing.

Keigo watched the boy’s expression carefully, seeing the awe and wonder spark behind Ren’s eyes as he marveled at the softness of the feathers. There was a quiet patience to Ren, a shyness that mirrored your own, and Keigo felt his heart swell with a tenderness he hadn’t expected.

“Do they help you fly?” Ren asked, his voice a little louder now, his initial nervousness starting to fade.

“They do,” Keigo replied, his eyes soft as he glanced between you and Ren. “And they’re also great for giving rides to special little guys like you.”

Ren’s eyes went wide, his mouth forming a small ‘O’ of surprise. “Really?”

Keigo chuckled, glancing at you for approval. You smiled at him, your eyes glowing with a quiet warmth that sent a surge of affection through him. He hadn’t seen you this relaxed in a while, and it made him want to protect this moment, to keep it safe.

“If it’s okay with your mom,” Keigo teased, looking back at Ren with a playful grin. “I could take you for a little flight. Just around the yard.”

Ren looked up at you with eager eyes, practically bouncing on his heels. You laughed softly, nodding your approval. “I think we can manage that.”

Keigo’s heart swelled with something warm and light, and he stood up, unfolding his wings fully as Ren watched in awe. He crouched down again, offering his back to the boy, who scrambled onto his shoulders with your help.

Once Ren was settled, his little arms wrapped securely around Keigo’s neck, the hero stood up slowly, making sure the boy felt safe and steady.

“You ready?” Keigo murmured, his voice gentle as he glanced over his shoulder at Ren, who nodded with wide-eyed excitement.

With a single powerful beat of his wings, they lifted off the ground, gliding into the sky in a smooth, gentle arc. Ren let out a squeal of pure delight, his laughter bubbling up as they soared above the yard, the wind rushing around them.

Keigo’s heart soared along with them. He felt Ren’s tiny arms tighten around his neck, the boy’s joy infectious as they floated higher, and in that moment, everything else melted away. The worries, the doubts, the fear of not being enough—it all faded as he listened to Ren’s laughter echoing in the sky.

When they landed softly back on the ground, Ren was still giggling, his cheeks flushed with excitement. He slid off Keigo’s back and ran to you, his eyes bright and full of wonder.

“Mom! Did you see that? I was flying!” Ren exclaimed, his face lighting up as he looked between you and Keigo.

You laughed, crouching down to wrap your arms around your son, your smile radiant. “I saw, baby. You were so brave.”

Keigo watched the two of you with a soft smile, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. Ren was still bouncing with excitement, telling you all about his little flight as you listened with a mother’s quiet pride.

And as Keigo stood there, watching you and Ren, he felt something settle deep in his chest. He wasn’t just some outsider, hovering at the edges of your life anymore. In this moment, he felt like he belonged—with both of you.

He hadn’t just met your son today. He had found a place where he was more than a hero. He was someone who could be part of your world, part of Ren’s world, and for the first time in a long while, Keigo felt at peace.

[miyahchan]

Week One - October 4th - Werewolf!Choso x Reader

Synopsis: Choso has always been possessive of you, but the full moon brings out a different side of him.

Word Count: 2k

🚨 Warnings: 18+ content, public sex, creampie, rough sex, penetration, all the good stuff.

A/N: It was super hard for me to incorporate werewolf stuff into this post but I did my very best. I’m not used to writing anything about werewolves so some details may be a bit vague or cliche. 🚨

Check out the official Kinktober 2024 post HERE!

Choso couldn’t lie – he felt bad. Really bad.

            He’d known the night wouldn’t go well. The full moon hung over the city like an ornament and bathed the streets in its subtle glow, and the streets were full of strangers focused on getting where they needed to go. He looked ahead of him, watching as you kept an unwelcome distance between the two of you.

            It all started when you suggested a late-night walk downtown. Choso hadn’t been worried about the full moon – unlike his brothers, he had always been able to control his primal instincts. He was the oldest, resulting in him having more experience. It should’ve been easy.

            You had your hand in his, guiding him through the bustling streets as you pointed at random things and talked his ear off about them. A lot of the shops had already started decorating for Halloween and he watched as your eyes widened in awe at every decoration you spotted. It was truly adorable, and he nodded along as you rambled on and on, your happiness being enough to make the night special. It was the most human he’d felt in a while.

            Well, until he came along.

            You felt a tap on your shoulder, causing both you and Choso to stop and turn around. Behind the two of you stood a guy, about your age, and Choso felt his stomach tie itself into a knot when the two of you smiled at each other and sparked up a conversation. The guy didn’t bother to even introduce himself to Choso, instead focusing on you and asking you all kinds of questions, trying to pry into your life. Your boyfriend just stood there, jealousy taking over. 

            He was a friend from college, you had said. Choso knew you’d gained a lot from your college experience; you talked about it all the time and your fondness of those memories made him care about it too, although he’d never had to worry about such a thing. He’d lived a long life with only himself and his pack, so he never had the same experiences as a human like you. It was foreign to him, but he knew he didn’t like it when you were so focused on another man.

            He attempted to swallow down the feeling that was bubbling in his chest. It was raw anger, mixed with something else. That something else was a feeling he’d trained himself to ignore in situations like this. Adrenaline pumped through his veins at 100 miles per hour, and he felt his muscles flex underneath his skin involuntarily. His eyes glanced up at the moon hanging in the sky. Poor mistake.

            The last straw was you laughing at one of the guy’s jokes. The laughter that Choso usually loved to hear became a cue for him to step in. 

            His hands made contact with the guy’s chest in an instant and the guy went flying back due to Choso’s inhuman strength. His body smacked a parked car, making its alarm go off. Choso knew it was a stupid decision, and it was unlike his usual reserved self, but at the same time, it felt amazing. His euphoria was only stunted when he felt you tugging on his arm.

            “Choso, let’s go!” He heard you repeat, and only then did he come down from his high. In that moment, he realized what he’d done. Luckily, the guy was still alive, his chest still rising even though he’d passed out from the physical blow to his body. However, everyone’s eyes were on the two of you. 

            Choso followed your command, the two of you rushing through the crowd. Fuck, what did he do?

            The two of you ran until the coast seemed clear and the sounds of the city started to die down. After you were sure that no one was trailing the two of you, you let go of Choso’s hand and picked up your pace, planning to leave him behind.

            He could smell the rage radiating from you. “Honey?”

            “Don’t “honey” me.” You snapped.

            He could’ve collapsed and cried in that moment. You had never talked to him like that before. Despite his quiet exterior, he tended to get rather emotional when it came to you. It was the closest thing to human he felt when he thought about his feelings toward you. He loved his pack as well – he’d go to the ends of the Earth for them – but you and him were a different type of love that he’d never experienced before.

            “I’m so sorry. I just thought...” He started to ramble before you stopped him.

            “You thought it was a good idea to throw someone into a car for making a joke?!”

            You know, when you put it like that, Choso couldn’t help but to feel juvenile for doing such a stupid thing.

            He picked up his pace to catch up to you, only for you to throw him the harshest look he’d ever seen in his life. He was in deep shit tonight.

            The sound of police sirens echoing through the air made both of you stop in your tracks.

            A look of panic spread across your face. “Oh shit.” You grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward a back alley. “This way.” 

            Choso had no reason to fear the police, but he would indulge in your fear if it meant you’d keep touching him. His face reddened as he focused on your touch. The two of you ducked through alleys, unsure of where the police were coming from but not wanting to find out. You both only slowed down when the sirens seemed far enough away to at least catch your breath.

            You were doubled over, taking sharp breaths as Choso admired your figure from behind. Then, he snapped out of it. How could he be checking you out when he’s supposed to be begging for your forgiveness?

            “This is all your fault, you know?” You wheezed. Your tone was less angry now, even if only because you could hardly breath. 

            “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. How about a candlelit dinner? Or maybe a picnic? A walk on the beach?” Choso listed every date idea he could think of until he felt you place a hand on his shoulder.

            “Do you really get that jealous over me?” 

            He hated how the word “jealous” sounded. “I’m just… protective, over you.” Yeah, that sounded better. “I don’t want anyone taking you from me, that’s all.” He muttered almost pitifully.

            Unexpectedly, you cracked a small smile and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “No one could ever take me from you, Choso.”

            He grabs your face and kisses you again, a soft whimper escaping him. You kiss him back harder and it becomes a game of tug of war for dominance. Your tongues dance in each other’s mouths and you end up with your back against the brick wall, finally accepting defeat. His weight is pressed against you as he starts moving to your neck, where he lightly bites you. He growls as he gets lost in the salty taste of your skin and your smell. 

            “Mark me.” You moan. “I’m yours.”

            That was all he needed to let his primal instincts take over.

            You were wearing a sundress, one of Choso’s favorite outfits on you. It was pretty, but that wasn’t the only reason he liked it. His large hands felt your curves through the thin fabric. A sundress also made for easy access.

            He pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. He latches onto one, sucking on your nipple harshly. You let out a cry, running your hands through his hair and messing up his spiky ponytails. Your moans filled the alleyway. You didn’t care about being caught, not when Choso was licking and nibbling your breasts just the way you liked it. As he licks on your nipples, you feel his hand lift the bottom of your skirt and go under, starting to massage your pussy through your panties.

            You gasp at the feeling, grinding against his hand. He doesn’t tease you for long, sliding his hand under the hem of your panties and rubbing his fingers between your folds. You gaze down at your boyfriend lustfully, who is still focused on your breasts. His expression is dead serious, purely focused on your pleasure. It was intense. You’d never seen him so intentional. He rubs on your clit, getting a soft moan out of you. This only spurs him on as he rubs circles on your sensitive bud. He knew exactly how you liked it. He glances up at you, his usual dark eyes having a hint of yellow peeking through now. He soaked in your expressions, watching every reaction you had to the slightest touch. 

            Your body tenses under his touch as you cum on his fingers, and you twitch as you’re overcome with a harsh wave of pleasure.

            “You’re mine.” Choso mumbles against your chest before letting go of your nipple with a wet pop. He puts his face close to yours, looking straight into your eyes. “Say it.”

            “I’m yours!” You don’t hesitate. This spurs him on to put more pressure on your clit.

            “Say it again.”

            “I’m yours Choso!” Before you know it, another orgasm hits you and you cum on his fingers again. You’re wriggling against his body, nearly screaming as Choso keeps fondling your pussy. You ride your second wave of ecstasy, leaving his fingers dripping wet.

            At that, Choso is satisfied, and he pulls his hand away. He turns you around so your front is pressed against the brick wall, and you hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you. Before you can brace yourself, Choso is already sliding his dick inside you, way too easily since you’re already so wet for him. He lets out a low groan as he feels you clenching around him. He tried not to lose control – he really did – but you just felt too good.

            He pounds into you roughly, giving you barely any time to adjust as you brace yourself against the brick. The sound of skin slapping against skin was music to his ears as he got lost in the feeling on you. He grabbed your arms and pinned them behind your back. You were going to take all of him.

            You were breathless as he fucked you, your human body being no use against his animalistic strength. His tip smacked your cervix, creating a beautiful mix of pleasure and pain. You were coating his dick in your slickness, the wet, obscene sound punctuating just how crude this act was.

            All that Choso could think about was filling you up with his seed. He’d always loved the idea of growing his pack, particularly with you as his mate. He keeps your arms in his grasp as he bounces you back and forth on his length. His senses were heightened due to the full moon, your moans sounding even louder and your pussy smelling sweeter than ever to him. In the back of his mind, he worried about hurting you, but you didn’t seem to mind.

            Your third orgasm hits you like the brick wall you were pressed against when Choso pumps into you harder. Your legs shake beneath you, the only thing keeping you standing being Choso holding you up. You hear a rumble in his chest as he relishes in the feeling of you clasping around him, pulling him in even deeper. 

            “Mmm,” He moans. “Whose pussy is it?”

            “Yours!” You can’t explain the pleasure you feel as he goes even faster, despite you being overstimulated from already cumming three times.

            “That’s right. It’s mine.” Choso cums inside of your pussy with a shudder, his cum leaking out and dripping onto the concrete. He pulls out slowly, watching a string of both your juices combined connect the two of you. He rubs his tip between your folds, smearing his cum all over your pussy.

            When he notices how weak you are, he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you up. “So, do you forgive me?” He’s back to his normal senses now, remembering the events of the night.

            “Yes, I forgive you.” You roll your eyes, though you can’t help but to blush as you remember where the two of are. “Now, can you help me get dressed please?”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Blizzard | Cassian x Reader

Day 2: Wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket w/ Cassian

Summary: During one of the worst storms in Illyria, Cassian, of course, decides to visit you and travel through said storm.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: sort of mentions of misogynists, just a lotta fluff tho<3

A/N: first cozytober!! took me a while to get around to this one, but hope you enjoy some fluff with our boy cass<3

Requests are open!

The hail fell hard against the house, pelting it with all of its strength, as you lay comfortably inside your home.

The weather had been absolute hell lately, storms blowing in from what could only be Winter Court in its worst months, or when its High Lord was moodiest. Illyria often had cold weather, and you were prepared with your thick leathers and blankets to keep you insulated and warm, but even this was a different level.

The fire crackled in the hearth, sparks not flying far before being caught with a hint of magic that your friend’s brother had woven for you after the first time your wood flooring had gotten burnt from the sparks.

Not to mention the fire it had almost started.

The cup of hot chocolate was warm in your hand as you sipped at it, thick book held open with one hand, and fingers that were beginning to grow sore as you shifted under the blanket pile, not even the insulated walls of your home able to keep the cold completely out.

Not even a fire was keeping it out. You wondered what would work, at this point.

No hanging your clothes out to dry either, since they would be frozen solid by the time you got them back. Or washing them, really, considering that was usually an outside activity that the females of the camp would do together while gossiping or chatting. The more popular activities of the day were watching the males spar during chores, giggling amongst each other, and pointing out who was the most attractive.

None of that today, though, you could only hope your friends were bundled up with their families, waiting the disastrous storm out.

With the way the winds howled past the house to almost a shrieking sound, you doubted most of the camp would be undamaged by now. The homes your people had built were meant to last generations and usually did with their thick walls and ingenious structure, but storms like these could cause a few cracks or holes to pop up, maybe even a few roofs to cave in or be blown away to the mountains.

It only meant more work for the men once this whole thing blew over.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized that you hadn’t turned a page in quite a few minutes, and the hot chocolate was beginning to grow colder in your hands. Sighing, you set the bookmark in between the nook of the pages, and closed the book, setting it down on the coffee table in front of the couch you were sitting on.

Right when you went to stand up, a loud knock on your door jolted you, tapping once, twice, thrice impatiently as you walked over, trying to look through the small peephole-like area on the wall, only for the swirling snow to make it impossible to make anything out.

Who would be out in this storm?

Who even could be out in this storm without getting frostbite or worse?

Hesitantly setting your mug down, you laid your palm on the freezing cold doorknob, twisting as it groaned and opening the door.

You were immediately met with wind that seemed to slice into your skin, small drops of ice pelting you, snow blowing into your home and melting into a puddle near the fireplace as the man stepped in, a man you recognized, if not for his stupid grin he wore ear-to-ear.

“Cassian, what are you doing out here in the middle of a-“

You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh as you placed both hands against the door, trying to push it shut, and failing against the wind. He watched, smirk obvious as the cocky bastard proceeded to use one hand to push the door shut and lock it for you.

You shot him a glare, folding your arms, and he chuckled, pulling you into a hug against his snow-covered form, cold gloves holding you.

“Missed you..”

He murmured, nuzzling up against you even as you squealed from the freezing temperature of his skin.

“Get off, you’re getting me wet!”

You scolded, pushing him off as he gave a pouty look like the dog he was, and you stormed over to the bathroom near your bedroom, grabbing a towel and unfolding it before wrapping it around his shoulders, hoping it would help a bit for now.

“I’ll be fine, just want cuddles.”

He said, trying his best to woo you into agreeing as his wings tried to flare in a way that usually made you melt, only for them to twitch from the cold. He grimaced, and you gave him yet another stern look.

“I’ll go find you clean clothes,”

You grumbled, and after a trip to the bedroom where you found one of his oversized shirts you kept and a pair of boxers and shorts he’d left over during his last visit that looked relatively clean, you helped him out of the stiff clothes that had water pooling at his feet, throwing his gloves onto the coffee table, patting his cold limbs with a towel and helping him into the clean clothes.

Then came the most difficult task—getting his boots off.

The laces were frozen solid to the tough material that was molded around his foot, almost.

You tugged at the strings, pulling with all your might, trying to break them free to unlace them, and failing miserably as he raised a brow, seemingly amused. He sat on the couch, legs stretched out til his feet met the floor.

“Need some help, darlin?”

You shook your head, gritting your teeth as you dug your feet into the ground, pulling harder and harder until finally—the laces came unstuck—and your ass hit the floor too.

The fire must’ve helped thaw the ice a bit faster than you anticipated.

He tried to muffle his laugh, but failed miserably, trying to make up for it by picking you up off the floor with big, now-warm, hands and sitting you right next to him as he hoisted his thick shoes up to where he could reach them, and his calloused fingers roughly tugged, until the string was undone and the boot slipped off. It was followed by a nearly frozen solid sock, then the other boot after more tugging, and you taunting him, then the other sock.

Both of you heaved a sigh of relief when he was finally out of all his storm-worn clothing.

You reached over to grab the mug of hot chocolate you’d set down earlier, only to be met by a completely cold drink of milk, all the chocolate had sunk to the bottom over time. You tried shaking it to mix it back up, but you also really didn’t want to walk all the way to the kitchen to heat it back up over the stove.

Cassian let out a low hum as he watched your predicament, slowly managing to get you to inch closer to him till you were practically on his lap.

“You wanna see a cool party trick I learned?”

He asked with that grin, the one that said he was about to do something incredibly stupid but entertaining. With a sigh, you decided to humor him this time.

“I’d love to, Cass.”

The sarcasm must’ve been apparent in your tone, because he snorted, before reaching over to the coffee table and grabbing up his glove he’d taken off from earlier. The red siphon gleamed as he slipped the material on for a moment, taking the mug gently from your hands and setting it on top of the siphon.

You stared for a moment, confused, and he seemed to realize this and spoke up.

“Just…say something that’ll make me mad. Anything.”

After a few seconds of pause, you grinned, eager for an opportunity to tease your favorite Illyrian.

“Rhys said your long hair looks stupid.”

It was believable enough, really, with how much of a fashion diva the lordling was at times.

He scowled, and surely enough, a flicker of light from the siphon, and the liquid inside began fizzling, almost boiling. Your eyes widened as you looked at the mug, letting out a little noise of surprise, and he grinned broadly as he handed you the now-warm hot chocolate and took the glove off, throwing it back onto the coffee table.

“Told you it was cool.”

He said with a smirk, hands enclosing around your waist as he leaned back against the cushions of your couch, pulling the thick blankets over the both of you. You took a sip of the hot chocolate, giving a hum of thought as you settled down into the warm material, and the warm Illyrian enveloping you. It was only when you lifted the mug to his lips, and he took a long swig of the warm, rich drink that reminded him of Rhys’ mother’s cooking, that you finally relented.

“It was a little cool.”