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joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

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“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from.

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his.

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific.

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.”

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.”

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. ��That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.”

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug.

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do.

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up.

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert.

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them.

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance.

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher.

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force. “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need.

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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sttoru · 1 year ago

Text

‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’

☀︎｜tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.

a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.

“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.

and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.

“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.

sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.

though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.

sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.

were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?

he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.

“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”

sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”

lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.

but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.

sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.

you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.

“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.

you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.

“where’d you think you’re going?”

sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.

you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.

his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.

he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.

“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.

you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.

even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.

you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.

“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.

you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”

a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.

“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.

you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.

sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.

“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”

it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.

the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.

until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jjk fic #sukuna ryoumen x reader

12K notes · View notes

nmakii · 2 months ago

Text

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for @itoshiluvbot. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock sae #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk sae #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae itoshi #sae itoshi imagines #itoshi sae imagines

1K notes · View notes

sunrizef1 · 9 months ago

Text

big reputation

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader, Max Verstappen x ex!reader

Warnings: cheating, lying, manipulation

Authors note: kinda hate this but whatever

Pt2 Pt3

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 kellypiquet and 6,889,007 others

yourusername happy 5 years with this wonderful, talented, beautiful, amazing man. I’m so proud of everything you do and you manage to amaze me every single day. Thank you so much for showing me what true love can be and for sticking beside me every day. From the boats of Monaco to the villas of Spain to the beaches of Brazil, I love you forever my darling xx

Tagged: maxverstappen1

Load comments…

user1 my parents <3

user2 I want what they have

user3 if she’s not like this I don’t want her

user4 the roses 🥹

user5 the love and support they have for each other is so amazing

user6 the way she’s almost never missed a race 😭🫶

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user7 they’re so in love I can’t

user8 sleeping on the highway tonight

charles_leclerc Happy Anniversary!! 🥳

yourusername thank you Charles! xx

user9 the real royal couple

user10 when is max going to propose lmao

user11 they seem so happy together aw

carlossainz félicitations! 🎊🍾🎉

yourusername thank you chili!

user12 🥰🥰🥰

user13 that caption is so adorable

user14 we need new music about this man pls queen

user15 I feel a love album coming on

logansargeant 🎉

liked by yourusername

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 kellypiquet and 3,898,001 others

yourusername Friendship that will last forever <33 xx It was great to see you love @/kellypiquet

Tagged: kellypiquet

load comments…

user14 love this friendship

user15 got here before max did… proud of myself

user16 two pretty best friends

user17 their friendship is so pure I love them 😭

user18 the way y/n is so intertwined into f1 despite being from a completely different profession is so special to me 🫶

kellypiquet 🫶

yourusername 🫶

user19 oh to be y/n l/n

user20 new music when????

user21 why is Logan lurking lmao

user22 that is an international pop-star from his state… she has 122 million followers… she’s often on the grid… I don’t think this rly needs an explanation.

user21 I just think it’s weird cuz he’s not rly friends with max but he still knows him. Kinda weird to be lurking on the page of an acquaintances girlfriend.

user22 Dude she has 15 Grammys… she’s not a secret

user23 lowk the piquets are problematic but yall don’t wanna hear about that

user24 I’m just glad y/n is happy tbh

TWITTER

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INSTAGRAM

yourusername has added to their story

user41

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

user42

what a lie lmao 😵‍💫

user43

Justice for max

user44

I love you y/n!!! 🫶

user45

🖕🖕🖕🖕

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INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by logansargeant taylorswift and 12,009,887 others

yourusername every days a new day ☀️

load comments…

user25 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user26 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user27 🐍🐍🐍🐍

user28 we still love you y/n 🫶

user29 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user30 we believe you ❤️

user31 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user32 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user33 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user34 we know you're not lying ❤️ it's gonna be okay 🫶

user35 she's a lying snake 🐍🐍🐍

user34 she said the call was doctored and I believe her

user36 it sounds pretty real to me 🐍🐍🐍

user34 I know she wouldn't do that. She loved max too much. She's proven time and time again to be a genuine, kind person and until the full call has been released, I'm going to believe her.

user37 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user38 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user39 max not defending her proves it's true 🐍🐍🐍 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user40 Logan liking… guess he's siding with the liar then 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

COMMENTS HAVE BEEN LIMITED FOR THIS ACCOUNT

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

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maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc kellypiquet and 6,009,887 others

maxverstappen1 healing.

load comments…

user46 😍😍😍

user47 I'm so glad max is able to heal after what y/n did

user48 thank god that snake is gone 🐍

user49 kelly being there for max is so sweet

user50 I'm so happy they stayed friends 😭

charles_leclerc good times bro 🫶

maxverstappen1 😅

user51 😵😵😵

user52 y/n didn't do anything

user53 better off without y*n 😵‍💫

used54 I never liked y/n l/n lmao she's always been annoying

logansargeant 👍

liked by maxverstappen

user55 I'm just so happy kelly and max have each other and they weren't torn apart by y/n cheating

user56 you guys are so annoying that call is obviously fake

user57 she literally admits to in the recording what are you talking about

user56 the things she says in it are so vague she could literally be talking about anything. And we don't even hear the other persons responses. They could've 100% been prompting her to say this. Why would they cut them out if they wanted to prove they were telling the truth.

user57 🐍🐍🐍

TWITTER

7 MONTHS LATER… NO SIGHT OF Y/N

INSTAGRAM

logansargeant has added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

liked by kellypiquet redbullracing and 2,008,990 others

maxverstappen1 Ready for Imola! 👊

tagged: kellypiquet

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user58 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user59 we all heard the call

user60 lied for what

user61 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

user62 y/n deserves an apology

user63 we 🫶 max and kelly

user64 nah, speak for yourself 🐍

user65 ruined your girlfriends life for a full year just so you could date her best friend... And for what??? Why did you decide you needed to ruin her career and her life just for the sake of a relationship

user66 don't listen to these idiots, y/n deserves what you did

user67 I understand why they did it tbh, y/n is so annoying

user68 🐍🐍🐍

COMMENTS HAVE BEEN LIMITED FOR THIS ACCOUNT

yourusername

liked by logansargeant lilyhme and 21,998,879 others

yourusername all I think about is karma

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user69 COMMENTS ARE BACK ON

user70 MY QUEEN Y/N

user71 🐍🐍🐍

user72 now why did Charles like this post… my man literally defended max last year when this happened 😭

user73 the only drivers I’d accept to be a part of this is Carlos, Lewis and Logan. The only ones who defended her the whole time.

user74 and Fernando!!!

carlossainz mi hermana! El mundo te extrano 😁

yourusername gracias carlito, Aunque no creo que me hayan extrañado 😅

carlossainz Te extrañé, entonces 🤣

Translation: (my sister! The world missed you) (Thank you carlito, though I don’t think the world missed me) (I missed you, then)

user75 Carlos being on the right side of history… he ends your favs

user76 notice that all of the flops have shut right up now that it’s been proven that their favorite cheater was lying the whole time

user77 all the hottest drivers have been on y/n’s side…

fernandoalo_official ¿Cómo estuvo el descanso? 😁

yourusername relajante 😅

fernandoalo_official ¿porqué es eso? 🤔

yourusername 🤫

translation: (how was the break?) (relaxing 😅) (why is that? 🤔) (🤫)

user78 the comments from the drivers are so cute

user79 I didn’t know she spoke Spanish

lewishamilton welcome back, y/n 🥳

yourusername thanks lew 🫶

user80 bestie for the resties with lew 🥰

user81 my top 3 drivers all commenting on my number 1 artists’ post… you love to see it

user82 I sense aoty

logansargeant isn’t it delicate?

yourusername isn’t it?

user83 wtf are these hoes talking about

user84 my glorious queen y/n l/n

user85 🐍🐍🐍

TWITTER

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user86 WHAT THE HELL

user87 NAHHHHHHHH

user88 is max ready to die?

user89 🐍

user90 breakup album?!?!?!

user91 max never to be seen again

charles_leclerc 🐍

yourusername 🐍

user92 and Charles is here, why? That man was first in line for the y/n hate train I don’t want to hear it.

fernandoalo_official slay

yourusername ?

user93 y/n and Alonso’s comments are killing me

user94 my favorite cheater and snake 💋

user95 who cares, no one likes youuuu

user96 she hasn’t been good since fearless

logansargeant so it goes

yourusername …

user97 these bitches love to chat about nothing for the sake of the plot istg

lilymhe 🫶

yourusername 🫶

user98 AWWWW LILY

yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc landonorris and 34,998,770 others

yourusername got some big enemies… reputation out now 🐍

Tagged: lewishamilton charles_leclerc edsheeran

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user99 XNDA!?????? Y/N BROUGHT BACK XNDA!?

user100 THESE ARENT BREAK UP SONGS Y/N

user101 SHE ATE SHE SERVED SHE DIDNT COME HERE TO PLAY

user102 nah because Lewis makes sense, that man has like a real-life mainstream artist song… WTF IS CHARLES DOING HERE????

user103 I haven’t even listened to the album yet because I’m too shocked by the track list 😭

user104 wtf do you mean Lewis and ed Sheeran made a song together??? 7-time wdc Lewis Hamilton and ginger boy ed Sheeran??? Nah

user105 releasing the album right before arguably the biggest and most historic race of the season… y/n I know who you are

user106 oh the amount of questions max is going to get about this album

logansargeant walking with his head down

yourusername I’m the one he’s walking to

user107 SONG LYRICS SONG LYRICS

carlossainz muy bueno hermosa!!! 🖤

yourusername gracias Carlos 🥹 🫶

user108 big brother Carlos, don’t talk to me I’m delicate 😭🫶

charles_leclerc thank you for inviting me! 🖤

yourusername none of this would’ve happened without you, cha! Merci beaucoup mon ami! 🖤

user109 huh???

user110 what did Charles add to this situation??

user111 we’ve all moved on way too quickly from whatever tf Logan is doing here

user112 lowk he was the mastermind behind it all but yall don’t wanna talk about that

lewishamilton the album is absolutely amazing, honored to be a part of it. Very proud of you, y/n 🖤🖤🖤

yourusername 🥹 love you lew

user113 NOW WHO TF IS THIS ALBUM ABOUT

TWITTER

@casperlikej @evie-119

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #scheduled #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent fluff #max verstappen fanfic #logan sargeant fanfic #max verstappen x reader

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physics-of-one-piece · 4 months ago

Text

I Take Care of You Now

Doflamingo x Reader

Summary: After a night of a heavy snow storm and rainfall on the North Blue Sea, Doflamingo gets woken up by the scraping of a snow shovel on deck.

A/N: A little short one-shot that I’ll implement into the main Red Suit Doffy Fic Merlot & Primroses but it can stand as a stand alone, too, so I decided to send it here. As I said in a post, Doflamingo’s core values he was raised with are something he sticks to. Also... I'm going to hell. I'm going to hell I'm going to hell I'm going to heeeeeeell...

but at least the Heavenly Demon is there 😊🤭🫡

P.S. I wanted to post this at 8pm it's 4pm, the Save Draft went into Post but it's complete so.... Enjoy? 🤣🤣 (I hate you, tumblr) (cry laughs)

Word Count: 3k

Tags: Pre-Relationship, Female!Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Doflamingo POV, North Blue Era Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Fluff, Humor, Cuddling For Warmth, Mentions of Fratricide, Nightmares, Longing, Doflamingo is in Love, Protective Doflamingo, Post Minion Island, Girldad Doflamingo, Dadmingo, Soft Doflamingo (kind of), Donquixote Family, One Shot Fic

Doflamingo is back in the snow again. The white thick layer of it crunches under his boots as he walks. There is snow falling, wild and strong, chilly wind pushing at his face.

There is someone lying on the snow. He knows who it is. The blackened feathers give him away; Doflamingo’s clumsy little brother.

At last, Doflamingo reached him. Rosinante’s lipstick-painted mouth is moving. No sound is coming out of Rosinante’s lips. Doflamingo squats down beside his brother. Maybe if he’s closer, he’ll hear the words his younger brother is saying.

Rosinante’s mouth keeps moving, shaping the words over and over again. He keeps looking at Doflamingo, but no sound is coming out.

What is he saying?

I love you?

I hate you?

I’m sorry?

Don’t touch my wife?

I’ll kill you?

Which is it?

Doflamingo should’ve learned to read lips.

Doflamingo wakes with a gasp, sitting up in his sleeping bag. His face is wet, covered in sweat, and he barely registers a yelp from Baby 5 who’d slept atop his stomach and hugged him for additional warmth during the storm falling off him and on his lap covered by the sleeping bag’s duvet.

Doflamingo realizes he’s without his sunglasses because the world isn’t tinted red. The sudden assault of colors and sunlight illuminating through the portholes makes him blink. Continuing to pant, he reaches for the white-framed sunglasses and mounts them atop the bridge of his nose.

He pants for a little longer, then swallows down. His throat feels dry. He needs to get some wine.

“Young Master?” Baby 5’s careful, hesitating voice reaches his ear. “Are you okay?”

Doflamingo puts on a smile, if not for his sake, then for Baby 5’s. He hates seeing her distraught or hurt. A child should never worry about an adult. It's the greatest disgrace.

“Just a bad dream.” he replied, huffing. “Could you get me a merlot from the wine cabinet?”

“We aren’t allowed to open the wine cabinet.” Baby 5 said, frowning.

“I’m giving you permission,” said Doflamingo. He needs wine, right now. “So go get the merlot for me.”

“Y/N-san said you shouldn’t drink that much...” Baby 5 murmured, continuing to look at him worriedly.

“Who’s the captain here, me or my sister-in-law?” he asked, chuckling. It’s rich of you to scold him on his alcohol abuse when your own husband had been a nicotine-inhaling addict. Rosinante went through one entire pack of cigarettes in a day. How on earth you wanted to kiss his brother or even marry him, Doflamingo would never know.

“You are, Young Master!”

“I don’t know…” mused Doflamingo, making a show of doubt. “Maybe I should let my sister-in-law lead…”

“She doesn’t know how to sail! Or how to be a pirate!” said Baby 5 panically.

“Is that so? I guess I’m staying as captain, then…” He gave a dramatic sigh, fighting not to burst out laughing on the spot. “Too bad, I was looking forward to retirement…”

“You’re not even old!” Baby 5 yelled.

Doflamingo laughed.

“Young Master?”

“What is it?” asked Doflamingo.

“Do you think (Y/N)-san hates living with us?” asked Baby 5.

Doflamingo blinked. Now, he knew you would rather throw yourself in the sea than say anything negative to the kids or be hateful toward them. It was one of your weaknesses he used in his favor to endear you to living with him, after all. What made Baby 5 think that, was what he wanted to know.

"Did she ever say that?” Doflamingo asked.

“No,” said Baby 5, shaking her head. “But... she gets sad a lot... and she seems to like being alone rather than with the rest of the officers.” She cast her gaze away, looking truly sad. “It reminds me of Corazón. He didn’t like hanging around any of us, either...”

Doflamingo was rather impressed. Baby 5 started truly being aware of her environment and how people act around each other. Her observation skills were getting very good for someone as young as her — even Buffalo, who was six years older than her, wasn’t this aware of people.

Doflamingo found his chest swell with pride.

“Don’t worry. Unlike with Corazón, I’m keeping a close eye on her. You forgot she’s a civilian. Civilians are terrified of pirates on instinct. All her life, she’s heard terrible stories about pirates, so of course she won’t feel safe with the officers, or Pica, Trebol, Diamante or me right away. We’re big, we fight, we kill, we rob, we torture, and we have Devil Fruit powers. Civilians run from that, because they’re powerless.”

“I forgot about that,” said Baby 5. “That she’s a civilian.”

Doflamingo laughed. “How so?”

“Because... She’s really fierce!” insisted Baby 5.

Doflamingo chuckled. “She was a marine’s wife. Of course she’s fierce. Just because she’s powerless doesn’t mean she’ll let herself be stepped on. It’s what I like about her.”

Yes. Doflamingo liked that about you very much. It turned him on. Very much. Doflamingo licked his lips.

“Why does she seem sad with me and Dellinger, too?” asked Baby 5, pouting.

“You’re orphans. You had nowhere to go, and became pirates. She pities you, because she thinks it’s unfair toward you. She’s sad because she knows that’s how cruel the world can be.”

“She pities us,” said Doflamingo, shrugging. “It’s not coming from a bad place like others do. Her pity is genuine. She doesn’t mean anything ill with it.”

“I don’t want her to pity us.” said Baby 5. “I want her to -”

“To what?” asked Doflamingo, tilting his head down to the girl, intrigued.

“To love us.” said Baby 5.

“Fufufu! She does love us. She’s just too stubborn to admit it. After all,” Doflamingo smiled. “No civilian is supposed to love pirates. That’d be treason.”

“Really?” Baby 5 asked, eyes full of hope. “She loves us?”

“Really. So don’t worry, okay?” said Doflamingo.

“Okay,” said Baby 5, her smile blooming back onto her face.

“Good girl,” he said, patting her head. “Now, go get me my merlot. And get yourself some bottled water, too.”

“Yes, sir!” chirped Baby 5.

While Baby 5 headed to the kitchen and the wine cabinet, Doflamingo cracked his neck, then got out of his pink sleeping bag. The sleeping bag beside him — where you slept last night — was empty.

He frowned. What was taking you so long in the bathroom? Maybe it was that time of the month for you. He knew there were supplies in the women’s bathroom, so he wasn’t too worried about that.

He’d give you a few more minutes before he went looking for you.

His long legs cracked as he stretched them out, same with his arms.

Baby 5 came back, carrying his bottle of wine and bottled water for herself. Doflamingo took it, undid the clasp, and chugged it down in droves, basking in the liquid pouring down his throat and into his stomach, warming up his body.

“Did you see my sister-in-law?” Doflamingo asked when he was done, bottle half empty now.

“I don’t know,” replied Baby 5 sleepily, rubbing at the crust in her eyes, giving a little yawn. “Maybe the bathroom?”

“Go wake the cook to make us breakfast and hot chocolate,” he said to Baby 5.

“Yes, sir. Um, Young Master...”

“What?”

“I think there’s someone on deck,” whispered Baby 5.

There was scraping on the deck outside. Doflamingo’s Observation Haki didn’t pick up any threat from the person. It could be a fishman or someone stranded on the island.

“It could be a Klabautermann,” said Doflamingo, chuckling. Now wouldn’t that be interesting.

“Klabautermann?” repeated Baby 5.

“It’s a legend.” Doflamingo explained. “If a ship is very loved by the crew, it develops its own spirit in the shape of a fairy.”

“Fairy?!” asked Baby 5 in excitement.

Doflamingo chuckled in confirmation, tracing his gaze over the officers and top officers strewn on the floor of the galley, counting everyone else who was present. You were the only one missing.

“A human-shaped fairy wearing a white sailor’s coat and a pair of shoes.” he explained. “It carries a small wooden hammer, because it fixes up a damaged ship. Ours isn’t damaged, though.”

At least, Doflamingo hoped it wasn’t.

“Oh,” said Baby 5. “I thought it would be a pink flamingo wearing Young Master’s sunglasses, just like the figurehead.”

Doflamingo laughed. “It could be! That’d be fun!”

“What if it’s a ghost?” she asked with slight fright; she’d heard too many ghost stories from Law and Buffalo.

Doflamingo gave Baby 5 one of his grins, the malicious ones which he knows comfort her. To Baby 5, violence equals protection.

“You think a ghost can beat me?” he asked her. “They’re free to try, fufufufufu!”

After some more coaxing and assuring her everything would be fine, Baby 5 left for the kitchen again to wake the ship cook.

Doflamingo grabbed his feather coat where it lay spread on the couch, stepping over a sleeping Gladius and Diamante.

Now, why were they all huddled up in the galley with sleeping bags?

The simple answer was bad weather.

They’d been in a heavy snow storm last night. It was Dellinger’s first heavy snow storm. He cried and ran around in a panic the entire time. He had to be grabbed three times from launching himself overboard and into the sea. Dellinger connected the sea with safety, because it was always safe for him to go into the sea; he always fled there if he was about to get scolded — it was becoming a real problem and at this point, Doflamingo was going to listen to Trebol’s advice and tie the toddler with a rope. If Dellinger went in the sea under those stormy waves yesterday, forget about pulling him out, they wouldn’t be able to find him.

For the past three years, they rarely went this far up north on their voyages, and although most of the adults of the crew were used to responding to and traveling through overbearing hail and rain, the kids were not. They were too prone to making mistakes in the novelty of navigating the waves bigger than Sea Kings despite knowing how to navigate.

The kids had been absolutely terrified.

The storm proved impossible to navigate. Doflamingo put his family and its safety above everything, he wasn’t going to risk them all because he wanted to get to the next island on time. He decided it was best to hunker down near a mountain pass to the closest island than continue to navigate through the storm.

After setting anchor on the nearby, snow-covered coast of the island, everyone had huddled down in the galley beside the largest fire stove to keep warm, bringing in sleeping bags.

Now, after putting on his black overcoat to deal with the cold outside, Doflamingo quickly opened the doors, left the cabin, and closed them just as quickly. He made his way up the stairs and to the cabin on the quarter deck, then exited out into the open winter air.

There was a person on the deck, pushing the snow down the deck and overboard into the sea.

Doflamingo nearly had a heart attack.

After a moment, he realized it wasn’t the ship’s spiritual manifestation.

It wasn’t a Klabautermann. It was you.

Doflamingo called your name. You leapt six feet high at the sound of his voice, which made him laugh. You deserved the fright; you gave him a fright first.

You turned your face up to him. Doflamingo smiled down at you.

“Hey,” you said shakily, like you weren’t out in the cold and shoveling snow from the deck. “Good morning.”

“What are you doing?” demanded Doflamingo.

You look at him like he’s asking a strange question. “I’m shoveling the deck.”

…

What?

“Why?” asked Doflamingo.

“Cause there’s snow on it.” you said.

For a moment, Doflamingo was so confused his brain stopped working.

Because there’s… snow?

Why on… why on earth would you be the one shoveling the snow?!

Doflamingo deployed his strings, leaving the wooden, ice-laden balcony of the quarter deck, reaching you with a single leap. He stood on his strings beside you, because he wasn’t going to walk on the solidified ice undoubtedly hiding under the layer of snow.

“You don’t do that.” said Doflamingo firmly, his thoughts racing thousand miles per hour, the cogs in his mind rushing with what could only be described as Celestial Dragon confusion. “I take care of you.”

“I’ve been doing this my whole life.” you say, shrugging.

Rosi, I’ll bring you back to life and put thirty bullets in you this time. thought Doflamingo, clenching his teeth, his jaw hurting from how hard he did it.

Doflamingo took the shovel from you easily.

“Hey!” you shouted. "I need that!"

“You don’t anymore.” said Doflamingo, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at you with the sternness of a captain. He stepped down from his string onto the deck to stand in front of you — as he suspected, there was ice under the snow. “I take care of you now.”

“Doffy -” you started, but he would have none of it.

“You’re not allowed.” said Doflamingo, because what else is he supposed to say, how else is he supposed to let you know you are too precious to do grunt work? You are not to do any grunt work, ever, for as long as Doflamingo lived and breathed. His parents would roll in their graves if they ever heard he let you do any labor, and Doflamingo experienced a full-body cringe at the mere idea of allowing you to exhaust yourself. Unforgivable. Impermissible. Therefore, not allowed.

By his words, clearly you thought he thought you incapable because you are a woman, completely misunderstanding him as you said indignantly, “I am allowed -”

“You’re too cute to be out here in the cold, querida.” said Doflamingo.

Those words momentarily rendered you mute, and you stared up at him in shock, which made you even more adorable.

“I’m doing whatever I wanna do!” you protest, and it reminds Doflamingo of a bunny stomping its little foot on the ground.

“You get inside,” says Doflamingo, ignoring your words. You could think whatever you wanted, Doflamingo would rather put a sea prism bullet in his own leg than let you freeze outside and let you shovel the deck; he had Buffalo, Machvise and the others for that. Doflamingo wasn’t raised to allow you to do such things; he was raised to coddle you, provide for you, protect you, spoil you, and by his title as saint, he will. “I’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

The ship swayed under a wave, giving a small lurch.

The two of you slid on the solidified ice the deck had become overnight. It was only Doflamingo’s instincts and long arm that helped him grab onto you and pull you to his legs, keeping you from falling. You were completely unaffected, most likely used to such fumbling with Corazón — you didn’t even squawk in alarm, just took it like it was a common thing, to slide on the ice and risk falling and hurting yourself.

That was it. You weren’t listening to him. You were going to get a cold, and with your average civilian balance, break your skull. Time to change tactics.

“You made me do this,” said Doflamingo, sneering down at you.

“Do wha — AAAAH!”

Doflamingo reached down, wrapped his arm around your body, and lifted you up. Once he lifts you above his waist, and continues lifting you higher, that’s when you give an almighty, terrified shriek which startles the seagulls above the crow’s nest.

Doflamingo laughed, and put you stomach flat over his right shoulder, like he would a bag of gold, but you are a much more precious treasure he has than any gold.

There. Much easier. He should’ve done this from the start. Maybe he should carry you like this all the time. He smiled at the idea. Yes. That’s what he’ll do. You wouldn’t try to wiggle out of his grasp if he carried you this high; you’re too scared of hurting yourself by the huge height drop between his shoulder and the ground.

He straightened up, deployed his strings, and stepped onto them, walking on them rather than risk it with the ice.

“Doffy.” Your voice was shaky, terrified and breathless. Doflamingo failed to stifle his laugh. How adorable. “Doffy, put me down.”

You clutched at his spiked up, thick fluffs of hair. He sighed contently at the feeling, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he grinned.

“Doffy! Put me down!”

“You’re not allowed!” he said firmly, but calmly all the same. He wasn’t angry, just concerned.

“Because I’m a woman?” you asked.

“No,” said Doflamingo simply. “Because I take care of you now.”

“I take care of myself!” you say indignantly as you’re being carried away on Doflamingo’s shoulder and back toward the warmth of the ship’s below deck with warm heating, comforting sweat and frosted, fogged glass.

He really needs to make sure with Diamante and Machvise the Numancia didn’t take any damage.

Doflamingo hears a giggle in his ear. He recognizes the sound, from a far-away memory long gone. He whips his head over his shoulder, and freezes solid.

“Don’t worry, Doffy.” said the little boy with blond bangs covering his eyes. He was sitting atop one of the posts of the sail, his arms tucked into the sleeves of a little purple feather coat over his light blue raincoat. He’s swinging his little feet back and forth where they dangle in the air from the sail. Something strange wells in Doflamingo’s eyes. His throat clogs up; he can’t speak.

The little boy sent him a big smile resembling the sun. “I’m okay.”

Doflamingo was hallucinating. He was definitely hallucinating. He needed to catch up on his sleep if he was seeing his eight-year-old baby brother and hearing his voice in his ear.

He headed inside, ducking as he went.

Baby 5 was tucked in his pink sleeping bag, back to sleep. The duvet wasn’t pulled all the way over her, so Doflamingo used his free right arm and lifted his finger, sending out a string to the duvet, lifting it up to cover Baby 5’s shoulders. Doflamingo hoped she at least woke up the cooks and that they started on breakfast and hot chocolate for the family. Doflamingo manoeuvred around the sleeping bodies of his family, stepping over their sleeping bodies easily.

In the end, you settled down after he put you on the couch in the galley. He noticed your chattering teeth, trembling body and red nose. He clicked his tongue in disapproval, took off his feather coat and draped the massive weight of it over your shoulders. The pink feathers completely enveloped you, tickling your cheeks as you looked up at him in surprise, the warmth the feathers suffused you in chasing away your trembles.

Doflamingo didn’t linger on the way you looked up at him, bundled in his feather coat and drowning in his scent, because he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from leaning down and kissing your lips to chase away the cold frost from them, too.

Instead, he slipped your arms into the thick, warm fluff of pink feathered sleeves, pulling the lapels over each other to keep you warm.

The sleeves were too long for you, and the end of the coat touched the ground of the cabin.

He went to get you both some hot chocolate and brought it to you to sip on in warm cups. The blissed smile you smiled and the relaxed sigh you released after your first sip of the hot beverage put him in a better mood.

He settled himself beside you on the couch with his pink mug filled with his hot chocolate. His thigh touched yours. This time, you didn’t inch away from him as you usually did when he sat down beside you during meals or in inns.

Doflamingo would much rather have your lips to keep him warm, but he’d settle for hot chocolate. For now.

He took a careful sip, and his body relaxed. He closed his eyes, basking in the bliss, his forehead smooth, free of any stress.

Feathers settled around his left shoulder, and his left sleeve fell over his arm.

When he turned to look down on you, a teasing comment on his tongue and a grin on his lips, you were looking up at him, and your eyes rendered his thoughts into a disarray.

“So you aren’t cold,” you said, lifting your arm high and stretching it all the way to adjust the left side of his coat atop his shoulder, which consequently meant you got closer to him, until your left shoulder leaned against his chest; if you leaned a bit further, you’d be nestled under his right arm.

“How do you walk with this?” you ask him, fussing over the coat. “It’s heavy.”

“It’s only nine kilograms.” he said. It was a comforting weight on his back; he was used to having it draped over his shoulders.

You deadpan at him, then, after a moment, say, “No wonder your neck’s starting to crane.”

“Drink your hot chocolate,” he said.

You snickered. “Yes, captain.”

You hugged the right part of his feather coat to yourself, draping it over you, covering your legs and entire body in the pink feathers. Doflamingo wondered if you liked the lingering scent of his cologne on the coat.

“It’s warm,” you whispered, closing your eyes, peaceful.

Doflamingo slipped his left arm into the sleeve of his feather coat, draping the front of it the same way you did. The two of you were swathed together in his pink coat.

You were right. With you nestled against him and swathed in his coat, it was warm.

Doflamingo didn’t feel cold at all.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @daydreamer-in-training

#one piece #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doffy x reader #doffy x you #x reader #one piece x reader #op doflamingo #my writing #physics writes #fizzy writes

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 days ago

Text

as the poets say

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “he is half of my soul, as the poets say” from the song of Achilles by Madeline miller

rated m | 2589 words | cw: injury, hospitals | tags: angst with a happy ending, soulmate au, canon adjacent but diverged like two roads in a yellow wood, friends to lovers, first kiss

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He walks into the room, bleeding, crying, wishing that death would take him. He feels ripped apart, and maybe he is. The wounds he’s suffered externally are minor in comparison to the pain in his heart.

Steve can’t be found.

He’s gone.

Eddie failed him.

_______

It’s easy to lose your mind when you find your soulmate, to forget that the world continues to spin, that good things and bad luck continue to happen around you. The fullness of your heart clouds your brain, that’s what his mom always told him when he was young. She would know better than anyone.

When his Uncle Wayne took him in, he said the same thing. He’d never found his soulmate, had never felt the need to go looking.

If they’re out there, we’ll find each other.

Eddie didn’t want to find his. Not after what happened to his mom, not after seeing the faraway look in his uncle’s eyes when he saw two people holding hands or laughing together in public.

A soulmate would just cause heartbreak.

_______

Steve is easy to get along with. He joins the group despite Eddie’s hesitation, and he fits right in.

Gareth is the least enthused, but even he gives in when Steve bakes him his favorite cookies. It’s not a bribe. Allegedly.

Eddie is immediately drawn to him, but keeps his distance. He pretends that the effect he has on him is nothing more than an easy friendship.

It lasts roughly six weeks, three days, eight hours, and 52 seconds. 53 if you count how long it takes Steve to start kissing him back.

He realizes the moment their lips touch.

He almost backs away, but what good would that do? The damage is done.

Steve’s eyes blink open as they part.

“I knew it was you,” he whispers.

“I hoped it wasn’t you,” Eddie replies.

His words ruin what should be a joyous moment. Steve flinches, backing away as if he’s been burned.

Eddie regrets the words immediately, feels the ache he caused Steve like a wound in his chest.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, looking lost. “Okay.”

“It’s-” Eddie tries to backtrack. “It’s not you.”

“No, right. It’s not you, it’s me. Got it.”

Eddie hates what he’s done, and the pull in his body is screaming at him to shut up, to take it all back, to apologize and kiss him again. Steve deserves better than this, better than him.

“No, it’s…that makes it sound like I’m brushing you off. I-”

“That’s kinda what you’re doing,” Steve interrupts. “And it’s fine. I get it. I’m not what you expected and no matter what I do to try to make you see me for who I actually am, you’re not gonna.”

Steve leaves and Eddie goes home.

He doesn’t tell Wayne about it, but it’s easy to hide shit from Wayne when he works so much. It’s even easier when all he does is lay in bed and cry into his pillow like the pathetic loser he knows he is.

Eventually, Wayne catches him hobbling to the bathroom with red, swollen eyes and hunched shoulders and he can’t keep it in.

“You go tell that boy you didn’t mean a damn thing and you’re sorry for turning him down,” Wayne says when Eddie explains. “You’re not gonna be a sad sack in my home for the next 50 years just because you’re scared of having a soulmate.”

“I’m not scared!” Eddie argues, but he knows he’s lying and he knows Wayne knows he’s lying.

“Ed,” Wayne sighs. “I know I’m a little to blame for this. I coulda told ya so much sooner about why I get so worked up about soulmates.”

“Yeah, you coulda,” Eddie crosses his arms defiantly, leaning back against the couch.

“Watch your mouth,” Wayne points at him, then rubs his hand over his face. “Your mom was the greatest person I ever met.”

“I know.”

Where is this going?

“Losing her is somethin’ I never recovered from.”

Wait…what?

“Me…either?” Eddie feels like he’s being tested on a subject he never took a class on all of a sudden, like the answers are obvious, but not to him.

“She was my soulmate and I was too late,” Wayne continues, dropping a bomb on Eddie’s lap with no instructions on how to defuse it. “She said we could lie and say you were mine and Al would never know, but I didn’t feel right doin’ that to him at the time. I’ve come to regret it.”

“You were…” Eddie stands, pacing the floor of the trailer. “You two were soulmates? Why would she stay with my dad if she belonged with you?”

Wayne gives him a sad smile. “Because she didn’t believe in soulmates before she met me. She’d been with a few guys in high school, and then stuck with Al for a bit before she met me. They’d broken up when we started talkin’, but she was already pregnant with you. Couldn’t do that to my brother no matter how shitty he turned out to be.”

“But,” Eddie opens and closes his mouth for a full minute as he realizes what Wayne’s saying. “But if you loved her and she loved you, and you were soulmates, something could’ve been figured out.”

“Maybe. Lookin’ back, I think we coulda done things different. But we made our choices then and I gotta live with ‘em now.” Wayne stands, puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Don’t live with the regrets I have just because you’re scared, son.”

_______

Eddie drives to Steve’s house, ready to apologize, but finds his eyes rolled back in his head, unresponsive.

He doesn’t run, but he wants to.

Something tells him to call Dustin, the freshman who gets on his nerves, but has looked up to him since the first day he joined Hellfire.

The next three days are chaos. Steve is barely present, headphones covering his ears as much as physically possible to keep this Vecna guy out of his head. Eddie doesn’t leave his side, can’t.

They don’t talk about the soulmate thing. There’s too much going on outside of that. It’s awkward, conversations between them stilted at best, but Steve accepts that Eddie isn’t leaving his side.

When Eddie is sitting across from Steve, watching as his eyes roll back in his head, waiting to be the distraction for Vecna so everyone else can kill him, it’s like his entire heart is outside his body, beating against the floor and the walls.

He’s not supposed to interfere unless he starts to float.

But even when he does, Eddie can’t do anything to stop it. He tries to sing, he tries to pull him back down, but it’s useless. Vecna’s going to win this battle, even if they do manage to win the war.

_______

The hospital is packed when he carries Steve into it, broken and bleeding, unconscious with the barest pulse to prove he’s still alive. Only one person is manning the front desk, turning people with minor illnesses and injuries away and telling them to come back tomorrow. The moment she catches Eddie holding Steve out of the corner of her eye, she pages a code and two nurses come running with a bed.

He sets Steve down and tries not to think that this will be the last time he touches him.

He promises himself that when Steve wakes up, when he makes it through this, he’s gonna make everything okay again.

_______

Steve doesn’t wake up.

The doctors don’t quite know why, but they also aren’t being given the entire story. They can’t have it until Owens shows up, and even then, it won’t be everything.

El got here four hours ago and hasn’t left Steve’s side, but she keeps giving weird grunts of frustration. Dustin didn’t tell him everything about El, but he knows she’s a government experiment with superpowers and if she’s frustrated, the situation isn’t great.

Dustin and Robin are inconsolable, and Eddie feels like he’s one more hour of unknown futures away from joining them.

He sneaks off to call Wayne to check in, let him know he’s alive. Wayne tells him not to leave Steve’s side, he’ll bring him clothes and food soon. Eddie tries to wash his hands and face, get rid of as much of the blood and dirt smudged on his skin, but realizes too late that it won’t matter.

Wayne will know he’s been hurt, too.

“He is gone,” El says quietly.

“What?” Eddie steps to the bed, checks the monitors still beeping to prove that Steve’s heart is still pumping and his lungs are still working. “He’s not gone.”

“He is not there,” she continues, tears gathering in her eyes. “I cannot hear him or see him. He is not in his mind.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Eddie knows he sounds crazy, and this is a kid he’s talking to, but he’s confused as to how she can make that determination.

“El can see into people’s minds when she concentrates. It’s easier with people she knows, but she didn’t know Steve as well as some of us do, so it’s taken her a while to get in there,” Will explains. “If she can’t find him in his mind, Vecna may have gotten to him faster than we could save him.”

“But he’s right here!” Eddie yells, much too loud for the quiet in the room.

Robin is crying in the corner, too scared to be close to where Steve is practically lifeless in the bed. Dustin is shaking his head. The others are just staring at Steve as if they can blink and he’ll be awake and telling them all how they’re annoying the hell out of him.

“He is physically here, but he is not in his mind.”

She leaves. Mike and Will follow her, and everyone slowly leaves the room while Eddie just watches Steve breathing.

_______

El doesn’t come back. No one does for over a day.

Eddie sits.

He waits for any sign that El is wrong.

He tries not to blame himself, but he knows deep down if he hadn’t rejected Steve, if he hadn’t been so fucking scared, maybe he could have seen this coming sooner. Maybe he could’ve stopped it from happening at all.

Robin swings by the next day, says she begged her mom to bring her for hours. Her parents want to leave Hawkins, and she’s already said she’ll run away before she leaves Steve here alone.

He isn’t alone, but he knows what she means.

She must not know about the soulmate thing. She wouldn’t want to be near him at all if she knew about him breaking Steve’s heart into a million pieces.

Except she makes a comment a few hours later, after a nurse has stopped by to once again check on Steve’s vitals, about how lucky Steve is for having such a great real soulmate.

So she knows, but she must not know.

He’s gotta tell her.

“Robin, I-“

A few quick beeps interrupt him, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and then a choking sound.

Eddie jumps up and Robin rushes to press the call button. Steve’s eyes are open and he’s trying to claw at the tube down his throat. Eddie grabs them as gently as he can, whispering that it’s okay, the nurse will take care of it, he just has to wait a minute.

Steve’s eyes are wide with panic.

He’s squeezing Eddie’s hands with a surprising amount of strength for someone who was basically dead only a minute before.

Eddie cups his cheek, and he falls in love.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. They’re gonna help you. I’m glad you’re here,” Eddie says quietly while Robin decides to run to the hall to get help.

He feels it growing the longer he’s awake, the more they touch. The reason he didn’t accept El’s words was because Steve was still there, Eddie could feel half of his heart still beating in Steve’s chest and half of his soul still deeply intertwined in Steve’s.

Steve won’t let go of him, even when the nurses try to get him to so they can check him. Eddie apologizes to the nurse closest to him, and while she must be annoyed at the inconvenience, she gives him an understanding smile.

“I wouldn’t let go of mine either,” she whispers to him before turning back to Steve’s IV line in his arm.

Eddie doesn’t let go.

Doctors come and go. Steve can barely talk, but they expect him to gain his voice back within a day or two. They suggest he have honey sticks and ice chips to soothe his throat and prescribe a breathing treatment to help clear up anything in his chest. He’s told to take it easy and stay as horizontal as possible until they can get him in for more scans. They don’t want him to start bleeding anywhere before they can reassess wounds.

Most of his physical injuries are broken bones, and there’s nothing to do for them except wait for them to heal.

He may never walk again, at least not without help.

His vision is worse than after his third concussion, but they’re already planning on prescribing glasses for him.

Things aren’t great, but they’re moving forward.

Robin has to leave before she gets a chance to really talk to him, which Eddie is secretly grateful for. He wants to have a minute alone with him, even if all they do is sit in silence, holding hands.

Which is all they do for a while. The hospital is still packed full of people in surprisingly worse condition than Steve, and extremely understaffed, so they just enjoy the peace of the room while they can. Now that Steve’s awake, they may put someone else in here to free up a room.

Steve taps his wrist.

“Hm?” Eddie watches as Steve tries to speak.

“Okay?”

Eddie knows what he’s asking.

“Everyone’s fine. Just worried about you,” Eddie smiles, rubs his thumb along the back of Steve’s hand as he answers. “You got the worst of it.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault the evil mind wizard clockmaker decided to try to kill you one bone at a time, Stevie,” Eddie picks up his hand and kisses the back of his fingers. “But let’s try to avoid other evil mind wizard clockmakers in the future.”

Steve doesn’t quite laugh, but his smile is enough for Eddie.

He’s quiet for a bit, his eyes closing like he’s falling back asleep. It only makes Eddie a little nervous.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says when he thinks Steve did actually drift off. “I was scared. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Steve smiles, but keeps his eyes closed. “Mhm.”

“And I will make it up to you in any way I can for as long as it takes. Even if that’s forever.”

“Mmm.”

“And I can’t tell if you wanna yell at me or not right now, but if you want to, you can. You should, actually. Wayne was way too nice to me when I told him.”

Steve opens one eye and raises a brow. How the hell is he doing that?

“Do you?”

Steve snorts and closes his eye, settling further into the pillow and squeezing Eddie’s hand.

It could be a yes or a no, but either way, Eddie’s fine with it.

His soulmate is alive and he’s not afraid anymore.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie events #steddielovemonth #steve harrington x eddie munson #angst with a happy ending #Steve gets vecna’d #soulmate au

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iwasntstable · 4 months ago

Text

n.s. | happy birthday

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

summary: Sometimes lying is okay when it's planning a birthday surprise for the birthday-hating man you love.

content tags: fluff, fluff, fluff.

word count: 2.5k.

note: Is this two whole days late? Yes. But it's finally here and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being so patient, and again, Happy Birthday Noah our beloved 🖤

You’d both gone to bed hours ago, and when you were certain Noah was asleep, you carefully untangled yourself from his arms and slipped out of bed.

“Where are you going?” His drowsy voice reaches your ears through the darkness.

You squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch up your face with your back to him; you were so sure he was asleep. “I can feel a headache coming on. I’m just going to get the meds I left in your car,” you lie, turning around to face him. “I’ll be quick,” you lean down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“M’kay,” he mumbles, rubbing your back as his eyes drift closed again.

You head out of your shared room to the front door, grabbing his keys on the way. Thankfully, he seemed to believe your little white lie. Going straight for the trunk of the car when you step outside, you hope the flowers you'd stashed in there all day hadn't wilted to death. Inspecting them under the light of the car, they did look a little sad, but you were sure some water and sunlight could save them.

Cradling the flowers, card, and little gift box in your arms carefully, you enter back into the house, cautious not to let the paper wrapping on the flowers crinkle too loud. You go to the kitchen and take out the vase you'd washed and stashed away earlier, filling it with a little water for the flowers to revive in. Setting it all up nicely on the counter—the card resting against the vase and the little box, wrapped in silver paper sitting in front.

Noah told you not to get him anything, but you weren't about to let that slide. He might not be big on birthdays, but you wanted nothing more than an excuse to shower him with love, and knowing he'd likely be up tomorrow before you, he'd find your little surprise first thing when he goes into the kitchen. You take a glass from the cupboard, fill it halfway with water, and take it with you as evidence of your little deception.

"All good?" He asks when you tiptoe back into your room.

"Yeah, all good." You set the glass down on the side and crawl back under the sheets with him, where he instinctively pulls you close into his side, the warmth of his body banishing the chill from yours.

The dip in the mattress wakes you a few hours later, followed by Noah’s lips ghosting softly over yours. With a sleepy groan, your hands instinctively move to his shoulders, where he’s hovering over you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispers.

For a moment you’re confused about the sudden show of affection until you crack your eyes open against the glow of the morning to see him holding his card and gift, the latter still unopened. “You haven’t even opened it yet,” you smile when he rests his forehead against yours.

“The card would’ve been enough,” he kisses you again. When he pulls back, you see his eyes are rimmed red, like he’d been crying. “What you wrote was so beautiful. I just- I’ve never felt so loved before. I’ve never loved anyone like you before.”

Now he’s going to make you cry. You encircle his shoulders with your arms, pulling him down on top of you and holding him close, so tight as though you could transfer all of the love you feel for him from your body to his. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, his arm securely around your waist, and you lie there together while the sun rises higher in the sky and the birds fill the air with song.

“C’mon,” you pat his back after a few minutes, “you need to open your present!”

He squeezes you just a little tighter before he plants a kiss against your shoulder and lets go. He sits up, and you follow, crossing your legs and snuggling into the duvet to hide from the cold October air.

Noah looks down at the little box in his hands, then looks at you, his expression saying, “Are you serious? I told you not to get me anything.” You nod encouragingly, and he finally tears off the tape from the metallic silver paper to reveal the little black box inside. He looks up at you again, quizzically.

“If you want to know what it is, just open it! Don’t look at me!” You kick him playfully from beneath the sheets. He laughs and shakes his head, pulling the lid from the base and finally revealing the gift you agonised over for months inside. You sneak a hand out of the sheets to bite at your nail, suddenly questioning your choice. What if he didn’t like it? He was right; you shouldn’t have gotten him anything. You should’ve just stuck with the card. Now he’s going to have to pretend he likes it to not hurt your feelings.

But when he takes it out of the box and sighs your name, your anxieties vanish as quickly as they arrived. “It’s the date we met,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply just as quietly, slipping out of the sheets to sit by his side, your legs folded beneath you. “I stole your other bracelet to get the right size, so I hope it fits.”

“Oh, so it didn’t fall down the back of the dresser?” He teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It might have fallen into my bag and all the way to the jewellers.”

“Will you put it on for me?” He asks, looking at you with those big brown eyes that make you melt every time.

You nod and take the silver chain from his hand. He holds out his right arm for you to loop the bracelet around, positioning the bar—engraved with the day you first met—on the top. Once it’s secure, he takes your arms and pulls you into him, onto his lap, where he wraps his arms around your waist to snuggle close into your shoulder and mumbles, “I love you.”

“Do you like it?” You ask, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

“Are you kidding?” He pulls back to meet your eyes. “I love it. I love you. I never cared for my birthday until I met you,” he brushes your sleep-tousled hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Now each birthday reminds me of how grateful I am that we get to spend another year together.”

You feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks, warming your face. “I love you too,” you smile and lean in to meet his lips. A soft and gentle kiss, full of love and adoration for the man that chose you that day and still continues to choose you.

“Do you want your cake?” You ask with a teasing smile when you pull back, raising your eyebrows.

Noah blinks in surprise. “My what?”

“Come on!” Your grin spreads wide across your face as you slide off his knee and drag him up with you by his hands, holding them all the way to the kitchen.

You let go when you reach the fridge, throwing open the door and scooping out the contents and tossing them on the counter: tomato ketchup, chicken, veggies, miscellaneous sauces, leftovers.

“What are you doing?” Noah chuckles.

“I hid it in the back yesterday. I can’t believe you didn’t see it... AHA!” You declare when you finally reach the white box. You turn to place it on the counter only to find there’s little to no room left.

“No wonder I didn’t find it. You totally buried it back there!”

“It was a surprise!” You banter back.

Noah just laughs and shakes his head, taking several items in hand and placing them back in the fridge to clear a space for you. Leaving the cake box on the counter, you take the candles from their hiding spot inside a mug in the cupboard and dig the matches out of the drawer. When Noah was putting the last items back in the fridge you ordered, “Stay there! Don’t turn around!” He throws his hands up in surrender and stays facing the fridge.

You quickly lift the lid to reveal the funfetti cake decorated with white icing and fresh fruit on top. You consider placing exactly twenty-nine candles, one for every year of his age, but decide against it and add five instead. Lighting them quickly before they get the chance to drip wax onto the frosting. “Don’t move!” You yell, crossing the room to hit the light switch.

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the cake in your hands. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

The candles, though small, illuminate the room in a warm, comforting glow, the light of the morning blocked by the still-drawn shades. While the fire warmed you on the outside, the intimate nature of the scene warmed you on the inside. You sing as soon as Noah turns around, and a smile erupts across his face, reaching his eyes, making them crease at the corners, and making his cheeks look full.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Noah, Happy Birthday to you!” He moves closer to close the gap between the two of you. “Come on, make a wish!” You hold up the cake higher as the candles melt.

Noah places his hands over yours where they hold the cake and, with one quick breath, blows out all the candles in one go. “I don’t need to make a wish. All my wishes already came true when I found you.” His eyes meet yours in the dim light, and you put the cake back down to fall into his chest, your arms secure around his waist. “Thank you for this,” he whispers, resting his cheek against your head.

“You’re welcome,” your voice muffled against his hoodie. “You deserve to be celebrated. It’s your day.”

Noah sighs and squeezes his arms around you tighter, swaying you both gently side to side. In his arms has to be your favourite place to be. The place that never fails to banish your worries and anxieties, you hope to remain here for as long as time will allow.

“Do you want a slice?” You mumble against his chest.

“Of cake? For breakfast?”

“Yes!” You exclaim like it was obvious, looking up at his face.

“We can’t have cake for breakfast,” he scolds, holding you close by the hips.

“It’s your birthday! We can do whatever we want,” you turn, dip your finger in the frosting and smear it on his nose, then wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

He gasps and laughs, full and carefree. He always works so hard and weighs himself down with self-created expectations. To see him now, relaxed and accepting of the love he deserves, especially on his birthday of all days, a day he’s so adamant about not celebrating, warms your heart and brings a smile to your own face. He deserves to be celebrated, and you wish you could get that into his head.

“You know what? You’re right,” Noah dips his finger in the frosting and smears it on the tip of your own nose. “I’ll get some plates,” he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

You laugh in disbelief, then shake your head and get a knife from the drawer, wiping off the frosting and licking it off your finger. “Mm, it’s good!” You look over your shoulder where Noah has two forks and two plates from the cupboard, frosting gone from his own nose and a pleased expression on his face. He nods in agreement and sets down the plates. “How big of a slice do you want?” You ask.

“Hm, maybe just a little piece. Then we can have real breakfast after,” he snakes his arms around your waist as you make the first cut, clinging to your back.

“This is real breakfast,” you retort, lifting the cake carefully with the knife and placing it on a plate, then cutting a piece for yourself. “It has fruit on it.”

“You’re right, that makes it a health food,” he jokes, taking a bite-sized piece on his fork.

“Exactly,” you nod, doing the same.

The cake was amazing, thankfully. You were worried about the flavour, having never bought a birthday cake for Noah before. He wasn’t the type to frequently eat cake, which left you stumped in the store when the staff asked what flavour you wanted. Her suggestion seemed to be a success though, judging by Noah’s pleased hums behind you and the way he was forking down another bite.

“I love the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful,” he mumbles, mouth full of cake and a smile on his lips.

You glance over to the vase at the end of the counter; the bright colours of the petals thankfully revived after suffocating in the trunk of his car all day. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve beautiful things.”

“Not as beautiful as you, though,” he leans to the side and wipes frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before leaning in to place a quick peck on your cheek. You roll your eyes at the compliment, fighting to suppress the flustered smile it brought to your face.

Cake devoured, you lounge on the couch together, putting on the local weather to see what activities the day would allow. Noah brought the flowers with him, placing them in the centre of the coffee table right in his line of sight, with the card you wrote standing in front of them.

Noah,

Happy Birthday, my love!

You’ve worked so hard this year, and it has been nothing short of a pleasure to watch you grow and achieve everything you aimed for, and more. I know it hasn’t all been easy, but your perseverance and drive to be the best version of you that you can be inspire me every single day. Even on days where we’ve struggled, you never let it get in the way of what’s most important.

I love you so much, I don’t even think I can put it into words. It’s an honour to listen to your beautiful voice and watch you create every day, and I feel so lucky to be a part of your life and have you be a part of mine.

Thank you for being here for me through everything I’ve been through this past year, even when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. You keep me sane when I’m overwhelmed and feel like I’m losing my mind from stress, and I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am for your love, support, and presence by my side. You mean the world to me.

I look forward to seeing what the next year together brings us, what you achieve next, and what our lives will be like in a year's time.

Thank you for always being my light in the dark and for continuing to love me.

I love you, and I hope you have a good birthday. ♡

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#so my friends and I have a tradition of writing each other the sappiest most heartfelt cards for our birthdays #noah gets one too #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #fluff #C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/FLUFF

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stsgluver · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.”

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour.

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers.

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.”

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention.

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed.

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.”

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was.

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes.

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile.

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates.

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?”

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense.

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.”

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time.

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen @kimvmarvel @ieathairs @janbannan @ja-zz @vangoes @starringz @ciscob1tes @theoriginaluzisimp @thirtykiwis @vivienne2000 @whydohumansss @purpleguk @simeon-lovergirl @missesgojosatoru @loveroftheoldestdream @mkaiiserr kazbrkker ancientimes thefirst-ofus animechick555 saccharinelixir seunnimg kookonsale

super sorry if ive missed anyone!

#snapshot !#gojo #gojo satoru #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo series #gojo fic #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo imagines

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legallyfem · 28 days ago

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🪷 could I rq a nam-gyu x reader where he’s your toxic, annoying ex trying to win u back :33

Obsessed? nah.

nam-gyu being a shitty ex towards fem!reader

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﹒　૮꒰◞ ◟ ꒱ა　⸝　new upload!　❜

　　　˚　　　　　➺　　　　　❀

　⸝⸝　　◦　　tags: toxicity, female reader intended, jerking off, manipulation, slight mentions of cheating, nam-gyu being annoying, stalking?, mentions of sex, drug use (i’ve never used a drug in my life so i just tried to describe it the best i can)

　⸝⸝　　◦　　a/n: HI NOONIE!!! i hope i did this like how you requested, i apologize for being slightly late, i was feeling a bit like a BUM!!!! if this wasn’t what you wanted, you should msg me and critique me lol

not proofread… pt.2?

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you hated him, as you should’ve. he was extreme controlling, possessive, and overlay friend to any other girl!

going through his phone during the night and finding nudes from other girls was NOT what u expected.

as anyone would, you broke up with him and he.. well… freaked the fuck out.

after you leave you shared apartment, , changing the lease so it’s only in his name, he didn’t realize how fucked he was.

a couple hours after you leave, or even days he would continue to text you.

“wtf did i do to you?” “baby talk to me” “hello? are you gonna keep fucking ignoring me?” “all i’ve ever done was love you, but you never cared.” “was i not enough for you?” “who r u fucking now?”

after he realized you were gone, he didn’t decide to remise on what he did that was bad. why would he do that? instead, he started doing harder drugs and going to more clubs than he did while you to were dating.

while he was leaving one of the clubs he visits 6 out of the 7 days of the weeks, he sees you walking out.

he walked towards you with a cheeky smirk as he tapped your shoulder.

“hello—“ you said, cutting yourself off as you saw nam-gyu, he looked ever more of a mess. you shoved his hand off your shoulder and looking at him with an annoyed face. “nam-gyu what do you want?”

he looked at your with his completely stoned eyes as the hung low. he still had that shitty ass smirk on his face you wanted to slap off.

“well, what happened babygirl..?” he said, his speech slurred from all the drugs and alcohol he’s consumed in the last few days. “you know you can talk to me.”

you simply said “you know what you did.” and walked away.

he was too drugged and drunk to chase after you, so he just got in a rental car, which he used to follow you around without you knowing.

as he continued to follow you, he found your new apartment complex, writing it down in his notes app and driving back to the apartment he used to share with you.

as he went home, he crashed on the couch and had an idea.

he opened his phone, going on instagram, making a new account and immediately searching your username up.

he took his pants off, now them lying somewhere in the trashed apartment, opening your photos.

i’m sure you know how this went.

he started to jack himself off, imaging it was your hand. even though he “hates your guts”, he would like to have sex with you again.

when he finished, he finished directly on his phone, holding it tightly in his other hand as he looked up at the celling.

he put his phone down as he reached for a pill bottle, his duck still out.

he reached for the ecstasy , popping a few pills as he looked at all of the nut on his phone.

#nam gyu #player 124 #squid game #squid game 2 #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu squid game #squid game season 2 #namgyu #se mi squid game #jae won roh #fem reader

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hayakawalove · 7 months ago

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Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

Summary: You're happy with your husband, you swear. Except you actually aren't. You're so unhappy in fact, that you find yourself in a cheap bar late one night. Two men find you, and it leads to a night of fun.

A/N: Yeah. It goes without saying that I DON'T CONDONE CHEATING! I don't know why I wrote this. I actually used to really hate cheating fics, so much so that I would filter the tag out. They used to trigger me super bad. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe as a way of doing exposure therapy, maybe just to practice writing things I normally don't write. Whatever the case is, here you go. I hope y'all enjoy! As always, I appreciate your guys comments so much, seriously!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cheating (You Cheat on Your Husband), Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Protected Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Cum Swallowing, Hook-Up, No Strings Attached, Reader Feels Bad (Doesn't Last Long), Hair-pulling, Female Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 6,154

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

You’re happy.

You really are.

Those are the words you find yourself repeating like a mantra, a self assuring prayer on a loop in your mind.

You have a great life.

A wonderful job, a nice house, the perfect husband.

People live their entire lives searching for what you’ve been so graciously dealt.

So why did it feel like you were lying to yourself when you repeated that mantra?

The words felt uneasy in your mind at first, the weight of them feeling unknown on your tongue. You’d never really thought about it before. Were you happy? The more you told yourself that you were, the more the saying turned your stomach sour.

You were happy. You were happy. You were happy.

You weren’t happy.

At first, it began like a tingle in the back of your throat. Not disruptive, but most certainly there, no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It was the most obvious when you felt like you should be grateful for something.

Before going to bed at night, finishing a big project at work, when your husband kissed your cheek.

The doubt simmers in your gut, barely a blip on your radar.

It was hardly noticeable, until it wasn’t.

The thought became a raging forest fire, drowning out all your other senses. Every day was the same. It was so boring. Nothing lit a spark in you.

You weren’t sure how to even remedy it. Not only that, but you would listen to your friends talk about their lives, and how it was monotonous for them as well. Maybe life just had to be like this.

There’s a pit in your stomach as you walk to your car. You really didn’t want to go home tonight. Not when you knew your loving husband would be waiting for you; not when you knew you had all the reasons in the world to be happy, but you just weren’t.

“Hey, sexy lady!” A man’s voice rings out around you.

When you flick your head around you see a man who’s much older than you sizing you up. Your knee jerk reaction is to be disgusted, but you aren’t, not fully at least.

You’re flattered.

When was the last time someone paid you a compliment like that? Your husband told you you were beautiful all the time, but it felt rehearsed, like the words had lost their meaning. Sure, a stranger calling you sexy was a bit half assed, but at least it was real.

“Thank you! But I’m married-“ you reply, even though the man is long gone by now.

You straighten your shoulders and open your car door, accepting the fluke.

~~~

You’re craving the attention again.

You feel like an addict craving their next hit. You didn’t want anything else, other than a bit of attention from a stranger. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Over the next couple of days you craft a plan. You were going to get dressed up and go to a bar, nothing major. You just wanted to put yourself in a situation where you could receive attention, maybe get a couple of compliments. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Your husband texted you to inform you that he would be at the office late tonight. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that shoots through you when you tell him that it’s okay, you wouldn’t be doing much anyway.

Liar.

The dress you’re wearing feels a bit too tight, fitting to your form like another layer of skin. You hadn’t worn it in years. There never was any need to. You and your husband didn't go on dates much anymore, instead choosing to settle down for movie nights or dinner.

Your makeup is more extreme than usual. It highlights all your favorite features, and the colors are a bit dramatic. Even though it felt different, you had to admit that you looked good.

You fiddle with your ring, watching the way it catches the light. Reluctantly, you pull it off and put it in your purse. You feel naked not wearing it. Hopefully, more people would compliment you if you didn’t have it on.

You sling your purse over your shoulder and turn your phone off, you wouldn’t be needing it anyway, sliding your high heels on.

The bar you decide on is on the furthest edge of town, in a much seedier neighborhood. On any chosen day you wouldn’t be caught dead on this side of town, and neither would any of your loved ones. Which is precisely why you chose to be there in the first place.

Nobody would recognize you. Not that it would be a problem if they did, you remind yourself. You weren’t doing anything wrong.

The bar is loud as you enter, eager voices discussing a variety of topics over cheap alcohol. The smell of liquor is strong, the astringent scent nearly burning the inside of your nostrils.

You slide over to the counter and take a seat on one of the rickety stools. It’d be a miracle if it doesn’t break under your weight, it looks like it’s two seconds from collapsing on its own.

You order a mixed drink and smile as the bartender passes it to you, your heart fluttering at the way he grins back.

Validation springs throughout your body. It feels like you’re being rejuvenated, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

See? What you were doing wasn’t so bad.

“What's a fine young thing like yourself doing over here?”

When you turn around to catch a glimpse of the man shamelessly hitting on you, you feel your stomach turn. You had never seen someone so attractive before.

A head full of soft white hair, messy in an almost endearing way. You can’t catch a glimpse of his eyes due to the sunglasses that rest on his nose. On anyone else it would come off as douchey, it was dark out and you were inside a bar, but for him it seemed oddly fitting.

There’s a cocky grin on his face as he leans against the counter where you sit. He’s close enough that you can smell the soap he used to scrub himself with. An intoxicating scent, cedarwood and bergamot.

“Enjoying some alone time.” You reply, deciding on playing hard to get.

It would be nice to see him continue to try, even if you didn’t make it easy.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just had to tell you how gorgeous you were.”

He didn’t sound sorry, didn’t look it either.

“I know.” You take a small sip of you drink, staring up at him as you do so.

You would never be so forward in your day to day life. You much preferred to be humble. Humble was cute, humble was safe.

You were tired of being safe.

The strangers lips spread even further and you catch a glimpse of him running his tongue along his teeth. You can’t see, but you feel like he’s staring down at you, gaze assessing your features. You hope he likes what he sees.

“Sir, can I get another one of these for her?” He flags down the bartender and motions to your drink.

“I didn’t tell you I wanted another one.” You reply, stirring the drink you’re currently nursing.

The man beside you raises a brow, before sliding out a wad of cash. He hands it to the bartender without looking away from you, confidence leaking from his pores.

“You shouldn’t have to. A gentleman should be able to notice.”

You feel a heavy weight drop on top of you. He was right. True gentlemen should take note of the small things, right?

Your husband hardly ever did.

The crack inside your heart begins to deepen; you know there’s not going to be a way back from this. Do you mind that you won’t be able to recover?

No.

You don’t.

You grin at him and toss back the rest of your drink before taking the new one from him. It’s cold against your hand, a sickly sweet scent wafting up from the cup.

“Who’s your little friend?” A second voice enters.

You flick your eyes from the man beside you to see who’s talking. Long black locks and chestnut eyes.

“Suguru. This is…” The first man talks.

You state your name, nerves beginning to take hold in your chest. When it was just one of them it was fine, but two of them?

“I’m Satoru Gojo, and this is Suguru Geto.” The original man says. “Pleased to meet you.” He finishes, dipping his face down to look at you above his glasses.

Electric cerulean greets you, nearly taking your breath away.

He smirks and pushes his glasses back up before tossing a look over his shoulder towards his friend.

Suguru circles around you, and you can’t help but let your eyes follow his movements. It feels like he’s sizing you up, a dark gleam in his gaze as he settles in the spot beside you.

It feels a bit like the walls are caving in on you, except the metaphorical walls are in the form of two bulky men.

You wanted attention, that much was true, but you weren’t sure you were ready for this amount.

“What brings you to this dive bar?” The one called Suguru questions.

You take a sip of your drink as you ponder a response. What should you tell them? You were here with friends? The truth?

“Needed to get out of the house.” You decide on.

Well, it wasn’t completely wrong.

“So you decided to come to this shit hole?” Satoru says.

“You decided to come here too, didn’t you?” You reply back.

Satoru looks away, his bottom lip pouting out. It was a shit hole. The two men looked oddly out of place. Their clothes looked to be worth more than half your rent, and there was an effortless elegance flowing from them. You were sure that they belonged anywhere else.

“We were just passing through town, and this was the first place we found.” Suguru responds for Satoru.

You wonder how true that statement is.

Could it be that the both of them are also running away from something in their personal lives?

You could only hope.

Maybe it would make you feel less guilty.

Suguru’s nursing a whiskey now, lips shining in the low light from the tantalizing liquid. It’s a bit hypnotizing, watching the way his lips pucker as he takes measured sips.

You feel like nothing can break you from the trance you’re in, nothing that is, until something brushes your thighs. It’s Satoru’s fingers, skimming your skin under the guise of tugging your dress down.

“I like your dress,” Satoru murmurs, his knuckles causing goosebumps to erupt along your thighs.

You watch as he slowly drags his fingers back, letting your eyes trail up until you reach his face, only to see that he’s already staring at you.

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless.

Satoru hums and flicks his gaze back down to your legs. There’s lead in your stomach as you watch his pupils flicker. You can only guess what’s on his mind.

“Say, do you have any plans for the night?” Suguru questions, settling his arm around the back of your chair.

His thumb brushes against your shoulder, making your breath stagger. The ambiance is more than heavy, a thick understanding settling over the three of you.

“No, I don't.” You take one last sip of your drink before looking at the boys once more.

“Want to go have some fun, then?” Satoru asks, an evil glint in his eyes.

You begin to understand how Eve could not resist the temptation.

“Please,” you all but plead.

You reach a hand out and Satoru laces his fingers in yours, tugging you along until you’re forced to navigate through the crowds in the bar. There’s a heat behind you, and you register it as Suguru’s presence shortly following after you.

There’s something bubbling up in your stomach, anticipation you think, as you watch the back of Satoru’s head.

He’s so tall.

You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. Would it be soft? Would he like the way it feels?

Satoru pushes the bar door open, a gust of wind whipping your face. The sensation almost shocks you to your senses, but Satoru doesn’t allow it.

He slows down and stops beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re being tugged beside him, smooshed against his lean frame as he walks you to their car.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he comments, whispering into the crown of your head.

Your stomach flips. You think he may be right.

Suguru walks ahead and spins keys around his fingers before unlocking the car. You’re unable to recognize the brand, only able to see that it’s expensive.

Satoru opens the passenger door and you’re greeted with fine black leather. It dawns on you that someone’s going to have to sit in the back.

How was this going to work?

Were you supposed to sit in the back?

Wouldn’t that be weird?

When you come to, you see that Satoru’s already sitting in the front seat, his hand holding yours as he looks up at you with an expectant gaze.

“Come on.” He murmurs.

He pulls you closer, spreading his legs to make room for you. He wants you to sit on his lap?

You look around, noticing how empty the parking lot is. You were already making bad choices, so you figure you may as well go all in.

You inch in the car, settling on top of his lap. His thighs are warm beneath you, your exposed legs shifting back and forth. He shuts the door, settling his hands on your body while Suguru starts the car. You never once stop to think about how this may be considered dangerous, all you can think about is how you want more of it.

“Ready, princess?” Suguru’s voice is like velvet as it comes out.

As ready as you’ll ever be.

“Yes.” You fake confidence, shining a grin that feels entirely too exaggerated.

Suguru chuckles and reverses the car, the action fluid. Satoru’s still holding onto your thighs, the proximity to him causing your heart to race. You don’t know who to focus on. Even their hands have you in a trance. Suguru’s fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles making your mouth water, while Satoru holds your legs, his palms suspiciously moving further up.

You can feel the outline of something beneath you, and you think you know what it is, but you want to be sure.

You shimmy your ass a bit, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Satoru. There’s a dangerous grin on his face as he looks at you over his glasses.

“Careful there, baby.” He warns.

Your mouth immediately dries, desperation crawling up the back of your throat. The outline below you is much thicker than it was several minutes ago. He was hard.

The engine stops, and your stomach turns over. You’re stopped at a hotel. It’s on the nicer side of town, luckily the part of the city none of your friends ventured to. The building in front of you is at least twenty stories high, the air of wealth floating over to you.

Just what did these guys do for a living?

“Come on.” Satoru says, patting your thigh twice.

You snap out of it and hop out of the car, eyes drawing to the two men next to you. Suguru stuffs his keys in his pocket and slides beside you, snaking his arm up your back. His hand rests against the nape of your neck, softly holding you. The act feels borderline protective.

You peer up at him and he grants you a smile before leading you next to him, guiding you by your neck towards the hotel entrance. It’s even nicer on the inside than it is on the outside.

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, you know that it must be made of glass but at first glance it looks like diamonds. There’s little dots along the walls from the reflection of the fine material, hypnotizing you. A soft tune echoes in the background, Mozart you think, that lulls you into a sense of relaxation.

“Good afternoon.” The check in attendant nods at Suguru.

Does this scene look weird to him?

Suguru acts as though it’s completely normal, dipping his head down in response before facing forward again, heading towards the elevators. Maybe it was normal for Suguru.

Maybe they’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t special. You have to remind yourself that that’s the point. You weren’t any better. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re objectively worse. Tonight wouldn’t mean anything. Just a quick, nasty fuck.

Out of your periphery you see Satoru jab his finger into the elevator button. He seems a bit impatient. Excited, maybe.

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking up as the numbers on the screen decrease, indicating the elevator was inching closer and closer.

He’s a bit beautiful.

You knew that before. But his beauty looks different under the fine chandelier light of the hotel. The way he looked in the dingy bar, although still incredibly attractive, was a far cry from how he appears now. Almost ethereal, you’d say. The warm glow of the lights above make him look like a painting.

Suguru’s the same as Satoru. The lighting and surroundings of the hotel are making him appear even more stunning than before. When you peer up at him, he glances down and grins back at you. It feels like you’ve been caught red handed. You look away quickly, just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open.

Satoru hops in and waits for you and Suguru to enter before pressing ‘18’.

The music inside the elevator is much more quiet, yet you’re still grateful for it. You’re nervous, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. It was hard to believe that you were really doing this. The soft piano helps soothe your nerves, as you will your mind to stop racing.

Suguru’s hand slides off your neck and you find yourself almost missing the sensation. The warmth from his palm fades away, along with the sense of protection it provided.

You only have a moments reprieve before the other man jumps at you.

Satoru’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his tongue smoothing along your bottom lip. You groan in surprise before following along, letting your hands slide up his shirt.

He’s muscular.

Images flash in your brain of what he may look like shirtless. Your mind paints up a mouthwatering scene, full of hard lines and bulging muscles.

Your mouth opens to accept him, his tongue quickly entangling with yours. It’s hot and messy. Spit dribbles from the sides of your lips, and you can hardly catch your breath.

“Don’t be so greedy, Satoru.” Suguru chides.

Shit, you had almost forgotten he was there.

Embarrassment fills your veins instantly. It suddenly hits you that you were going to have sex with both of them. How was this going to work? The idea seems daunting.

Satoru grunts in retaliation and you almost think he doesn’t want to share. The man proves you wrong though, when he tugs you forward towards him. His body crashes against yours, and you have to hold his firm biceps to stabilize yourself. Suguru glides behind you, his hands quickly finding your hips.

You’re trapped.

Satoru parts from your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping once he removes himself. Your mind is crowded by lust as you look up at him with heavy lids.

You want more.

It’s a good thing there were two of them.

Suguru grips your chin from behind and turns your head sideways, pressing his mouth against yours. His lips aren’t as sweet as Satoru, but it makes your knees weak all the same.

Suguru is more methodical in his approach. He waits until you’re reaching a hand down, squeezing his arm against your waist. With a chuckle he parts his lips, sliding his tongue along your mouth, the movement painfully slow.

Satoru has moved his focus to your neck now. He’s kissing and biting down the column of your throat, the heat from his breathing making you shiver. You use your other hand to glide through his hair, urging him forward to continue his attack on your throat.

Only when he starts sucking do you realize the severity of his actions.

“N-no hickeys.” You tear yourself away from Suguru to say.

Satoru looks at you for a second before chuckling, dragging his tongue up your throat. “Sure thing, princess.”

Your shoulders sag in relief as you feel Satoru begin to go easy on you, only licking and kissing your tender flesh. You’re grateful you caught him in time.

Suguru kisses you once more and you moan, a sound that spurs the two men on. Satoru raises a hand to paw at your breasts through your dress, and Suguru’s grip has tightened.

The elevator dings just in time.

Your entanglement felt longer than a life time, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes. Suguru reluctantly tears himself away from you, watching as you catch your breath. Satoru is a bit more stubborn, only stopping once you say his name.

Luckily the hallway in front of you is empty. The three of you step out, and you let them guide you to their room.

“Here we are.” Satoru murmurs.

Suguru, apparently master of the keys, lifts up a card and unlocks the door. When it opens he pushes the door in, letting you and Satoru go first.

The room is huge.

There’s a living room with a decent sized kitchen, along with two doors that can only lead to what you assume to be bedrooms.

“Home sweet home,” Satoru lifts up a hand, waving it towards their hotel room. “Well, I guess hotel sweet hotel-“

“Satoru.” You all but plead, looking up at him desperately.

His eyes flick down to you and he grins before stepping closer.

“Sorry baby, you need something, huh?” He crashes his lips against yours again.

The kiss is even more urgent this time around. Satoru lifts his glasses up blindly, before walking backwards to lead you further inside.

You reach behind your back and pat around, trying to feel for your zipper. You need your clothes off now. When you don’t feel the flimsy tab, you turn around and look over your shoulder as if that will help any.

“Keep having your fun, princess.” Suguru murmurs, his fingers expertly finding the elusive zipper.

You whine and face forward again, kissing Satoru once more. Suguru carefully pulls it down, a cool rush of air grazing your back once it’s open.

He leans down and kisses your spine, slowly making his way up while you shove your tongue down Satoru’s throat.

The room’s spinning, you’re sure of it.

Suguru takes his lips off your back so he can slide the dress off your shoulders, his hands grazing your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps.

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you exposed in only your bra and underwear. It was an expensive set, one you had bought years ago yet hadn’t gotten much of a use out of.

Satoru pulls his lips away to glance down at your figure before looking back up at your face. Your lips are swollen, eyes fluttering in need.

“Shit…” he whispers to himself before kissing you again.

Suguru’s hands roam your body, letting you have your playtime as he explores your skin. His palms glide against your stomach and thighs, moving slowly.

You must be soaked already.

Satoru tears himself back again, hands reaching for his shirt. He undresses in a matter of seconds, leaving himself only in his underwear. His body is even more amazing than you had conjured up in your mind.

He was muscular without being overtly so, leaning more towards the body of a runner. His skin is pale, matching the tone of his hair.

You run your hands up his stomach to his chest, letting your fingers dance along the grooves of his muscles. His head hangs low as he watches you drag your nails against him.

Suguru stands next to you as he pulls his shirt off his head, the action catching your eye. You turn around and allow your gaze to float down to his chest. He looks just as perfect as Satoru.

You tug Suguru closer and kiss him, his slow pace allowing you a chance to recuperate.

“Want you to sit on my face.” Satoru says, his hands skirting along your body.

So much for recuperating.

“O-okay.”

Satoru leads you and Suguru into one of the bedrooms before making himself comfortable on the bed. His form takes up the whole length of the bed, head at the end as he looks up expectantly.

You look over your shoulder to see Suguru watching you. His lids are heavy as he stares at you, desire unmistakably falling over his features. He dips his head as if he was comforting you, or giving you permission. You slide your underwear off before tossing a leg over Satoru’s face, lowering yourself just above his mouth. You’re facing the end of the bed, Suguru standing in front of you.

“So fucking wet.” Satoru mumbles to himself before sticking his tongue out, tugging your hips down until he meets your pussy.

“F-fuck!” You moan, your hand latching onto his white locks.

“That feel good?” Suguru asks.

You bite your lip and look up at him, watching as his hand reaches down to unbuckle his pants. The sight makes you flustered. He maintains eye contact as he tugs them down, his cock still contained behind his underwear.

“Open.” He says in a hushed tone.

Your lips part, jaw dropping open at his order.

“Atta girl.”

Suguru eases his thumb into your mouth, watching as your lips wrap around him. You suck softly, bobbing your head as you lick the sides of his thumb.

He looks delighted as you perform for him. You try your best to focus on the task at hand, but Satoru is making it increasingly difficult. His tongue is sticking out, flicking against your swollen clit. He drags it down before teasing your entrance, poking in several times before retreating to suck on your nub.

You tug at his hair, grinding your body down against him. His hands have a tight grip on your ass, helping you hump against his mouth.

“There you go, ride my fucking face.” Satoru growls below you.

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure coursing through your body.

Suguru uses his other hand to pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. Everything feels too good. When you look back down, the sight makes you lightheaded. His cock is hard, tip leaky with anticipation as he watches you.

He pumps it several times before reaching down to grab your free hand. Suguru wraps it around his cock, giving you free reign to pump him.

His thumb never leaves your mouth. You’re sort of glad it doesn’t. If it did, you aren’t sure how loud you would be moaning.

Suguru looks at your face as you begin to jack him off. He’s far more interested in watching you suck his thumb.

Satoru sucks on your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your body. You can feel yourself drip into him.

“You gonna cum for us? On Satoru’s face?” Suguru coos.

You moan around his thumb and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck, you were going to cum on Satoru’s face. Soon, probably.

Your palm slides down Suguru’s cock as your fist fucks him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, his precum making the glide that much easier.

Satoru speeds his actions up, his lips wrapped tightly around your nub. Your body tightens up in response, and you begin to cum.

Satoru aides you through your orgasm, sucking the entire time as you twist above him. Your hand slows against Suguru’s cock as you pant around his thumb.

Satoru flicks his tongue against your clit slowly before removing his mouth from you, allowing you to slide off his face.

He sits up once you’re off, his chin completely covered in your essence. You’re almost embarrassed. Satoru looks unaffected, letting his tongue clean the cum on his lips.

“Let’s go baby.” Satoru says.

Suguru eases his thumb from your mouth, chuckling at the whimper you let out. You were really starting to get into it, too.

Satoru helps you get onto your hands and knees, facing forward towards Suguru. Suguru reaches down to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your body before tossing it to the side. Your nipples instantly harden from the cold air.

Satoru smoothes his hands down your back while admiring your trembling form beneath him. Aftershocks from your previous orgasm were still racking through your body. He tears his gaze away to look at the bedside table, grumbling before he finds what he’s looking for. You hear the sound of a condom being opened as you stare at Suguru’s cock.

Would you be able to fit that in your mouth?

“Alright,” Satoru mumbles, sliding the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance.

You part your lips, waiting for Suguru to slide himself in your mouth. Satoru’s cock pokes at your entrance, pushing past as he sinks into your pussy. You groan, your walls rushing to accommodate the stretch.

Satoru’s jaw is clenched as he looks down, watching your pussy greedily accept him, squeezing his cock until he’s finally all of the way in.

He pauses for a moment, and you slip Suguru’s cock into your mouth. His tip eases past your lips, precum dripping onto your taste buds as he pushes himself in further.

You gag a bit, nose flaring as you try to breathe around his cock. It’s more difficult than you anticipated, drool sliding down your chin as you go as far as you can.

Satoru begins to shallowly pump inside you, while Suguru starts to rock his hips.

It doesn’t take long before Satoru is fucking you properly, the slick of your cum making it easy to glide inside you. Suguru lets you control the pace, bobbing your head against his cock as you swallow around him.

Satoru pushes against your gspot with each thrust, the sensation making you moan around Suguru.

This felt so good, you were left wondering why you didn’t do it sooner.

Satoru groans behind you, feeling like his cock was being choked by your pussy. He reaches down and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You moan and your pussy tightens around Satoru in reaction.

“Thaaaat’s it.” Satoru sounds almost breathless. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you this good, does he?”

You stutter around Suguru, confusion sparking inside you.

Husband?

How did he know?

Satoru laughs loudly, continuing to fuck into you.

“What? You didn’t think we’d notice?” Suguru inserts himself into the discussion. “There’s a tan line around your ring finger, darling.”

Satoru thrusts into you even harder. “No hickeys? Come on.” His fingers speed up around your clit, making you moan against Suguru. “So I’ll repeat myself, your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?”

The humiliation was almost suffocating, yet it turned you on so badly you could hardly stand it.

Suguru pulls himself from your throat, watching as you loudly gasp for air.

You feel ruined. But you like it.

“N-no,” you moan out.

“No? That’s right.” Satoru mumbles under his breath.

With each thrust it feels like he’s knocking all common sense from you. Your fingers dig into the sheets below, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure but all it manages to do is crumple the bedding.

Suguru presses himself back into your throat, throwing his head back as you bob your head along him. You run your tongue down the sides of his cock, stroking him as you suck.

“Can tell you aren’t happy with him, you just needed to be fucked properly, is that right?” Satoru continues.

You moan around Suguru, unable to reply. Satoru understands the sentiment, pressing harder against your clit. You tighten up around him again, unable to control the way your cunt squeezes him. He keeps filling you up, his cock somehow pressing into all the right places. You’re getting close to cumming again, body begging for the sensation once more.

Satoru’s hands are gripping your hips hard, so hard that there’s a voice in the back of your brain telling you he may leave marks, but you’re in too deep already. Drool is seeping from your lips, hanging in strings down your chin as you swallow Suguru’s cock. You wonder who’s going to cum first.

Your orgasm inches closer, made possible by the strum of Satoru’s fingers against your needy clit. He’s groaning behind you, the sounds spurring you on.

“Come on, come on baby. Cum on my cock.” He urges with a groan.

Your pussy clenches around his cock hard and you release, cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Just like that, just like that.” He talks you through it, a whimper breaking his voice.

Suguru makes good use of your slack jaw, pounding so hard into your throat that you surmise it’s going to bruise. There’s no oxygen in your brain, no thoughts in your head, just pure bliss as you cum on Satoru.

“You’re gonna make me-“ Satoru lets out a long moan, hips jerking against you, his cock twitching as he fills the condom with his cum.

You’re trying to breathe heavily through your nose as you come down, allowing Suguru to use you as he sees fit. His face is concentrated as he stares down at you, admiring the mess you’ve become as he fucks your throat. He swears under his breath before coming to a stop, spurting hot cum in your mouth.

You struggle to swallow it all, briefly feeling like you were drowning in the fluid, before you gulp it down. It’s messy, some of his cum paints your lips as he slides his now softening cock out of your mouth.

The room is filled with the sounds of your mixed panting, bodies all entering a state of relaxation. Satoru eases himself from your pussy, inhaling sharply as he slips out. He removes the condom, tying it before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. You’re in complete bliss, fucked out from every orifice.

Suguru smoothes your hair down and finds a washcloth to wipe the filth from your lips, smiling to himself at your expression.

“You can stay the night, if you’d like.” Satoru says as he relaxes on the bed.

He glances at the clock and ascertains that it’s much later than you were intending. You mumble to yourself and nod, not fully comprehending what ramifications may be waiting at home for you.

Satoru opens the blankets for you, waiting as Suguru cleans between your legs. The actions are a bit sweet. Everything is. You were expecting them to kick you to the curb after you had sex, so you’re pleasantly surprised when they slide in bed next to you, laying on either side.

Satoru’s arms are wrapped tightly around your frame as you nod off, and you feel truly happy for the first time in years.

~~~

You aren’t sure what wakes you up in the morning. Your internal clock, maybe. Your body is sore as you groan, flipping onto your back. The hotel ceiling greets you as you crack your eyes open. A brief bit of panic courses through you.

So last night was real, huh?

You turn your head and notice the bed beside you is completely devoid of anyone else, both men seemingly having vanished. You aren’t sure if you feel more sad or relieved. Sad because you enjoyed their presence, but relieved because now you could pretend like nothing happened.

Is that what you wanted to do?

You were having a hard time believing that that would be easy, that you could go back to your old life and be content when you knew there was so much more out there.

You sit up and look towards the clock. You were in deep shit. There’s a note on the beside table that catches your attention. You lift it up, reading the words on the page. It fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction once you notice a phone number on it.

“Call us if you want to have a good time. -Satoru and Suguru.”

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

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amphitriteswife · 3 months ago

Text

Pregnancy

Pairing: Jaegyeon na x pregnant! Reader

Tags: @yue-yolk

Source: Lookism

Summary: basically the kings find out your pregnant and you’re a queen.

Shit post scenario

Jaegyeon felt a bit of worry. He usually doesn’t meet with the other kings unless he necessarily has to. Most of the time they break his baby Initial N anyway so he avoids them like the plague. It’s all just business or fights after all…but today is diffident. This time you won’t be here with them when they meet. Gripping the steering wheel even harder, Jaegyeon’ car was once again smashed by Taesoo ma. Ofcourse it would be him. How could it not? But he’s way too nervous….he needs to calm himself. It’s not like they knew anything about the relationship. Hell the both of you always acted hostile towards each other. Phew, he almost pissed his pants out of nervousness. Okay maybe not. But he felt like that okay? Jeagyeon got out of his car and stood against it. All the kings found it rather unlike him to be so calm…but soon they noticed another thing: your absence.

Jichang: where’s (Name)? She’s usually the first out of all of us to be here.

Jaegyeon: she’s not attending today, she is…with child.

All the kings turned to look at him, clearly not believing a single word out of his mouth. Besides, everyone knows the two of you don’t get along so what is he lying for? It’s not even a good lie, you would never get pregnant. How will you fight and keep your empire intact?

Jichang: no offends Jaegyeon but why would they ever tell you even if she was pregnant?

Taesoo ma: yeah, she doesn’t even like you. I think she would tell any of us faster than you.

Gongseob Ji: wait she’s pregnant?

Both Jichang and Taesoo ma sighed at Gongseob’s dumb question, yet the big mystery remained. Why are you pregnant and how and which even did it. And how come Jaegyeon na knows?? He’s not a trustable person. Hell he’s a a child himself! Well…acting like one most of the time.

Gongseob Ji: damn what did Jichang do?

Jichang: what do you mean me?

Seokdu Wang: She did mention that you were quite ‘good looking’ when we fought.

Jichang: i’m too busy to get someone pregnant.

Taesoo ma: so who’s the dad? Do we know him?

Jaegyeon: it’s me…

All the kings whipped their heads towards him. No way this man child was the father to your child. No. They don’t believe it. Not at all. Never. Didn’t you hate the man???….why is he sweating so much

Taesoo ma: well that was unexpected

Jichang: so…you two did it?

Gongseob Ji : crazyyy.

Taesoo ma: it was probably a one time thing.

Jaegyeon na: it wasn’t.

Gongseob: how did you even bag her dude.

Jichang: exactly my thought, you should be the one pregnant

The kings all snickered among themselves, cleary making fun of the fact that Jaegyeon ever got someone as amazing as you pregnant. After all, you were fiercy and dominant. Jaegyeon is childish and quirky. How the hell did he even get to graze your presence.

Jaegyeon: well…we just kissed and…yeah. And now she’s pregnant.

Jichang: you filthy dog how dare you only have a one night stand with the queen. Don’t you have any respect?

Jaegyeon: it wasn’t a one night stand!

Gongseob: so it’s a fling.

Jaegyeon: No! We already had something going on!

Taesoo ma: so…what was it then?

Jaegyeon: we have been in a relationship for like 4 years

Gongseob: oh what the fuxk?

Never in a million years would they have seen this coming. You and him? Yall were at each other’s throats each time they saw the two of you and you mean to tell them you guys kissed? Oh hell naw. And the fact it has been 4 YEARS is wild.

Gobseob: well yall definitely didn’t bang in that junk. She wouldn’t stoop even lower than being with you.

Jaegyeon: …

#jaegyeon na #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism jaegyeon na #jaegyeon na x reader

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sunnie-angel · 8 days ago

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Part 15: The Diner

part 14 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: a misunderstanding between you and jason snowballs

tags: angst, reference to off screen violence, reference to serial killer

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 1.8k

a/n: another update??? that you didn't have to wait months for??? yeah i'm shocked too.

Something is wrong. You know this because Jason comes pounding at your door at 11:00 AM with brownies in hand. He never comes round to your apartment during the day. It’s always night time, always to check how secure your doors are or to fuck. He’d tried to play it off as simply wanting your help studying for the midterm but your gaze had never left the plastic box of the store-bought container of brownies. In the entire time you’ve known him, Jason has never tried to feed you something he hasn’t made himself. He’d made himself at home at your dining table, spreading out books and papers, steadfastly pretending like nothing was so very different about this day than any other. There had been sweat beading along his hairline. But Jason has never been one to volunteer his secrets willingly. Certainly not the ones closest to his heart, otherwise he’d be sitting in a different apartment, bending over books at a different table, sitting next to ‘Barbie’. Whoever she is.

Battery acid bubbles in your chest at the thought. From the very start you’ve known that your hold on Jason is tenuous. Subject to his whims and conditional to your silence. You just hadn’t thought to ask why things had to be this way, you hadn’t thought to think about it very hard at all. You know why, of course. If you’d stopped for a single moment, allowed yourself to actually consider just how small Jason’s lack of love made you feel, well then all the ugly half-rotted feelings below the surface would solidify. Become real. Right now you are un-moored. Adrift. As long as the question gets no further than your throat you will remain so. Nothing has to be ended. If you ask, Pandora’s box will never be closed again. So you sit and nibble on the store-bought brownies that taste like plastic on your tongue, jealousy bubbling in your belly, and wait him out. Your patience does not last as long as you hoped it would.

“Okay that’s it,” you say, standing up from your seat, chair screeching on the floor. “You’re acting weird.

Jason runs his fingers through his hands – a clear tell, he’s nervous – before he speaks. “I’ve figured out who’s behind the murders—” you open you mouth to speak but he barrels on, “—but I haven’t figured out how to catch him yet.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Still? You’ll get him eventually.” you ask, arms hugging your torso. Soon. This could all be over soon. You won’t have to live in fear, won’t have to stare out the slats of your blinds and imagine dark shapes in the streets.

“Maybe,” he hedges. “It doesn’t feel like soon enough. Doesn’t feel like I’m doin’ enough, yeah?”

“And that’s it?” You ask. “There’s absolutely no other reason why you’ve come over in the middle of the day and didn’t immediately head for the bedroom?”

Jason doesn’t flinch. Barely. But the accusation lands and he won’t look you in the face as he speaks.

“Nah, just didn’t feel like sittin’ around alone at home with the realization.”

Liar.

Okay so is he lying to your face? Yes, and Jason’s conscience twinges at that. But really, what would telling you the truth achieve? Already you jump at shadows, hollows carved under your eyes with the stress of it all. You’ve withdrawn, fearful of the world and the dangers in it. Telling you that the man brutalizing women not only wants you dead but is likely in your life already? That would just be an act of cruelty when he’s no closer to catching the monster than he was yesterday. So yes, yes he is lying and yes he hates the little seed of distrust he sees growing in your eyes but he can’t bring himself to snuff out your belief in humanity entirely.

It stings though to hear you describe your relationship as purely transactional. Like he’s only ever in your apartment to get his dick wet and in exchange he’ll make sure you don’t end up in pieces in some back alley. He doesn’t— he doesn’t have the words to explain that he’d take much more if he thought you’d allow it. That the starving heart of him would claw his way into your life and never let go if there was ever a universe where your disgust of him wasn’t a certainty. Already he can see the way the distrust lingers in your posture, the way you’ve pulled away to spend more time working than with him or any of your friends. He can feel you leaving already and the hardest thing he’s ever done is to let you go gracefully. But its what everyone does eventually and Jason is tired of leaving fingernail marks on everything he’s ever loved. So that’s what he’ll do, he’ll—

“—you’ve already checked out everyone in her life?” Stephanie’s voice interrupts his brooding. They’re at an IHOP this time, fluorescent lights beating down on the pancakes he hasn’t touched yet.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. Eliminated anyone without the body parts to do to the victims what this fucker did and I went over them. Dickhead got Babs to check the only possible options out too.”

“So that leaves us with Rei Danh, Will Aartsen, Miguel Flores, and Ian Jackson,” Stephanie muses before shoving a piece of pancake with a frankly obscene amount of syrup on it into her mouth. Jason slides the napkin dispenser over to her without comment.

“Can’t have been Rei,” Jason supplies. The man’s lopsided smile and invitation to join the swim team flashes behind Jason’s eyes. “He was helpin’ his drunk girlfriend home when we got mugged.”

“Flores seems unlikely, sex crimes usually get committed against the gender the perp is attracted to,” Stephanie adds, mouth stuffed looking like a chipmunk. The syrup bottle sits between them on the table, empty. She looks at him with a quirked eyebrow and keeps chewing. Jason sighs and waves down a server for another bottle of syrup.

“What about Will?” Jason asks after their waitress is out of earshot. “He kinda hates my guts.”

“Making enemies in and out of the mask, huh?” She tries to joke. Jason stiffens, smile a plastic thing. Realizing her mistake, she continues much more gently. “He made credit card purchases during the kill window at places on the other end of town, even in New York once. He might be an asshole but there’s no way he was in two places at once.”

“Which leaves Jackson.” Jason’s lip curls at the memory of him smiling at you and your starry eyed response that one night at trivia not so long ago. “Who also alibied out for all but one of the murders.” She slumps back in her seat and groans.

Jason picks at his pancakes as he asks, “Could follow them. See what happens on a Friday night.”

“All four of them?” Stephanie asks. “That’d mean four of us and one to watch your friend.” She makes air quotations around the last word that Jason steadfastly ignores. “That’s five of us off patrol and you know weekends are when the crazies come out to play. Besides, it could still be someone else. Her landlord or the guy at the deli she goes to semi-regularly.”

The pancakes are like glue in his mouth as the rest of the conversation devolves into strategies of what to do next. Stephanie calls out even a whiff of his bullshit, when his fear starts to cloud his judgement too far and the only thing he can focus on is how to keep your heart still beating, which is refreshing. No more going in circles and scrutinizing his plans for wrinkles only to find out mid-plan that he hadn’t actually caught everything.

It’s when he goes to pay the bill and his eye twitches at how much they’re being charged for such shitty pancakes that Jason finds himself saying, “Hey next time we’re goin’ to a proper diner with proper pancakes because I’m not payin’ that much to eat wheat glue again.”

You can afford to take a break. The sun is out, it’s not a Friday, Danika promised to hold the table the two of you are studying at in the student union while you pick up food for the two of you. Jason had simply reacted with a thumbs up when you’d told him you plan for the day and asked if he could walk you home later. Whatever. You can manage this quick walk to the nearby diner – the same one Jason had taken you to, god why does everything have to come back to him? – and get Danika the strawberry banana pancakes she deserves.

The sun is blinding off the melting piles of snow not yet turned fully grey by the dirt of the streets. You have to be careful where you step now not to get your sneakers soaked in the snowmelt. Already you’re only thinking of how good the pancakes are going to taste as you put in your order to go, the diner smelling so good your stomach can barely contain its growling. Shifting on the balls of your feet out of boredom, you survey the diner and freeze. There, in a corner booth sits Jason. He’s not alone.

If you’re being honest, the girl is gorgeous. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the physique of Gymnastics Barbie. It’s not hard to see where Jason’s nickname for her comes from. You can feel the fraying edge of your coat cuff tickling your inner wrist and you can’t help but feel woefully inadequate next her. No wonder Jason’s gone and given his heart away. No wonder he had nothing left for you. You don’t feel hungry anymore, not around the stone in your gut, the smells of the diner suddenly nauseating. She says something and Jason simply sighs indulgently, eyes rolling fondly until they freeze on you in the periphery. He turns to you, mouth forming words you don’t hear when the cashier is calling out your name and order number.

You don’t give Jason the time to catch up to you as you grab your order and flee the scene. It’s like one of those games what’s wrong with this picture only the answer is you. There had been questions you’d decided it would be better not to know the answers to, only to go and trip right over them. God you feel like such a fucking fool. Is that what this had all been about? Using you as some kind of trial run so that he didn’t screw things up with the girl he actually wanted?

The bottom of the paper bag burns with the heat of the food but you can’t stop hugging it to your chest. Numb. You’re so numb by the time you return to campus and Danika that it’s the only thing you can feel. The backs of your eyes prickle but you refuse to waste any more tears on him. Hope is a wonderful, gentle thing right up until it guts you like a rabbit with all your disappointment.

part 16

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #ydcmb (uibyt) series #sunnie writes 🌻

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stillmonsterz · 10 months ago

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it's gonna get better (teaser)

(this is the final part to brave it together)

pairing: jay x reader genre: suggestive, angst, slight humor summary: your tumultuous tryst with jay might have ended, but your relationship with the karma club and its members has only grown more entangled. a winter trip to the swiss alps tests your friendships, your willingness to lie, and your resolve in staying away from jay. despite your previous inclinations towards isolation, you're starting to realize, a little too late, that being around people isn't too bad. content: drinking, drug usage, sexual themes, rape mentions, murder mentions, suicide mentions, threats, more to come. estimated word count: 20k

taglist: @moon7jay @belowbun @bambangan @praliliaaa @jjklvr9 @iveivory @magicshop1913 @sseobonggs (if i forgot you, please let me know!)

It took you until evening to gain even a semblance of your composure. You had spent some time working on your scarf, mindlessly purling and knitting. You had tried to watch a movie, but your eyes grew unfocused. Finally, you had decided to lie on your bed as you did at the motel, staring at your ceiling. If you focused, you could still smell Jay's woodsy, spicy scent, as though it had permeated the very walls of your room.

When dinnertime approached, you stripped down to your underwear and examined yourself in the mirror. Your body was a patchwork of fresh skin and mottled bruises that Jay had given you over the past month. When you raised your arm, you could see the nail marks he had made. As usual, bright red hickeys adorned your neck. You’d have to cover them up again so no one would get any ideas.

Then you realized that this was the last time you’d have to cover up a mark that Jay had given you. After this, the evidence of what the two of you had had would fade away, your cells would replenish, and it would be as though he had never touched you in the first place.

It didn’t seem right, that you and Jay were finished. At any second, as you rummaged around in your closet for an outfit to wear, you imagined that Jay would burst inside of your room, demanding something. He’d lie on your bed again, smoking your cigarettes while complaining about how they tasted. He’d tell you that he had been joking, that he had never intended to leave you, that you were his. He would kiss you again, choking you in his grip.

Instead, the minutes dragged on, and Jay never showed up. You pinched the inside of your arm and once again, you didn’t feel a thing. Just a dull register of a sensation.

After you got dressed in your usual sweater and long skirt, you checked your phone. You had gotten a text from Riki.

Riki: how’s my favorite traitor 😂

You: Not a traitor. Didn’t betray anyone.

Riki: when you give me an explanation for saying one of my friends raped you in a group chat literally called “anti-kc”

Riki: then you can be not a traitor

You had to admit, the evidence against you was stacked.

Riki: are u ready yet

Riki: i’m hungry

Riki: i’m thinking i’ll get the “she lied” salad with the “our friendship is ruined” combo

Riki: the “i can’t believe i was going to take her to cliffside laser tag” meal

You: That was never going to happen.

Riki: stop

Riki: haven’t u done enough

Riki: maybe a side of “lying wench” chips

You: Are you done?

Riki: not even close.

You: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Riki: good

Riki: that’s plenty of time

Riki: the “hoes mad” burger with the “she’s a bird” fries

Riki: crisp waffle fries with extra salt

Riki: ketchup representing the shed blood

He kept going on like that, so you turned your phone off. It bothered you that you couldn’t tell Riki the truth. Well, you could. But if you told him that Jay raped you, and Riki somehow found out that you had been hooking up with Jay for the past month, you would look insane. Or like an idiot. How could you explain something that you didn't even understand? No, you’d rather have Riki hate you than tell him the convoluted truth.

You were used to Karma Club members hating you, anyways.

–

Dinner with Jake and Riki at Stoker’s cafeteria was as insufferable as you had imagined. Bundled under a coat and a high-necked sweater that masked the marks made last night, you wordlessly ate your meal while Riki and Jake talked. Riki sat on the right side of you, jostling you whenever he would gesticulate wildly as he recounted some story. You weren’t really paying attention to anything he said. Your focus was on Jake, on the way he bit his lip as he looked between you and Riki.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jake said slowly, setting his fork down, “but are you and Wednesday, uh…”

Riki winced, and you marveled at his acting prowess. “It sort of just happened,” Riki said. “ We were at the party, and she came to see me, and well, I just went for it. It wasn’t like I meant to steal your girl or anything.

“No, no, no,” Jake said, waving his hands furiously. “No, it’s fine. She wasn’t my girl, never was, never…haha. You guys are cute together, honestly. Same age and everything.” Nervously, he started folding his paper towel into small, neat squares.

“No, I really should have told you,” Riki lied, swallowing a bite of chicken breast.

“It’s cool,” Jake said through gritted teeth. “Why would I want to know if my best friend and the girl I, uh, know, have a thing? That’s none of my business.”

“Glad you understand,” Riki said, beaming at Jake.

Jake got up from the table. “Gonna take a leak,” he muttered before staggering away from the long bench.

As soon as Jake disappeared from view, Riki’s face fell.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “Why are you telling Jake we’re together?”

Riki leaned towards you so that he could whisper. The Stoker dining hall was relatively full at this hour, mainly by students from other dorms, and you were beginning to learn that there were eyes and ears all over Sadame University. “Because,” he began, voice thick with anticipation, “things were getting way too dicey in our dorm. “For whatever reason, things between Jake and Jay got worse after last night. Jake’s skittish as fuck, and Jay’s acting like he wants to kill Jake. I figure this has something to do with you.”

You winced.

“It’s no good,” Riki continued. “Jake’s been going to Jungwon’s room and pacing around and shitting himself and whatever. Remember how I told you that there has to be a balance to shitstirring?”

“I do recall that.”

“This is it,” he said. Riki used his hands to mimic a scale, one hand representing a plate dipping too low. “Right now, tensions are too high. That’s no fun, you know? So I have to even things out.” Riki brought both of his hands to the same level. “If I redirect their attention, make myself the target, then they’ll both hate me instead. But they like me, so nothing bad will happen.”

With your index finger, you pressed down on the palm of one of his hands, forcing it downwards. “What if something bad does happen to you?”

Riki pushed against your finger, steadying his hands once more. “It won’t. I know you and everyone else loves to pretend like the Karma Club members have their own special brand of evil, that we’re just, like, complete sociopaths, but I know them.”

“It’s been three months…”

“A lot can happen in three months,” Riki said. If you reflected on the path your life had taken in merely one month, you would be forced to agree with him.

You pulled your hand away from his and sighed. “Why do you like bad things so much? What about good things?”

“That’s not true,” Riki said. “I love good things. I like bad things too. I’m a very deep person.”

“As deep as a kiddy pool,” you said.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Riki said. “I’m still mad at you for trying to fuck us over.”

You thought about arguing with him, but you decided against it. Riki felt like a true friend to you - at least, he had felt like a true friend - but the thought of baring your soul to him only for him to be unreceptive to your sorrows made you feel sick. You pushed your plate of food away.

“You know, for a while there I almost thought Jay had like a weird thing for you,” Riki said offhandedly, cutting another piece of chicken breast and spearing it with a fork. “I know, I know, it doesn’t make much sense considering he hates your fucking guts. But the dedication with which he hates your guts was scary. Elite hatred. What did you even do to the guy, anyways?”

“Nothing,” you said, “which seems to be the problem.”

Riki chewed his food, staring into space with a thoughtful expression. “He still hasn’t brought Isa over,” Riki said.

“Maybe you just haven’t noticed,” you said. Memories of that night with him in his dorm room, sex tinged with a faint hint of romance, your limbs tangled together in post-coital bliss, spun through your mind.

“No, he explicitly said, ‘Don’t let that bitch Isa get near my room or I swear to God I’ll kill you all,’” Riki said, mimicking Jay’s voice perfectly.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, then.”

“I just always found it weird,” Riki said slowly, “I’ve never seen him be nice to her at all, besides when I would come to the library to pick you up to get a smoothie and I would see them flirting or whatever. Isn’t that so weird? Like, why would Jay get close to Isa in public? Specifically, at the library.”

The hickeys still marring your neck felt as though they were burning, and you scratched at them absentmindedly. “Yeah, weird…”

“Hey,” Riki said in an unusually light voice. “How did you get home last night?”

Riki’s long bangs had fallen into his face, obscuring his eyes. For the best, as you didn’t know how you’d be able to look into them. “What?”

“How’d you get home?” Riki repeated.

“Uber and a bus,” you said.

Riki nodded and leaned away. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Jake asked. He swung his legs over the bench and settled into his spot again.

“Interesting she’s okay with us sharing a room, considering she’s just so, so shy,” Riki said, putting his arm around you in a constricting half-embrace. “The third-floor bedroom has two single beds, right?”

Jake’s lips twitched. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “It does. Jungwon and I were thinking about taking that one, though.”

Riki waved his free hand dismissively. “Just sleep together, Powerpuff girls style.”

“Fuck off,” Jake said with a smile, playfully pushing at Riki.

“You’re going to knock your soup over,” you said, but it was too late. Jake’s chicken noodle soup sloshed over the table, staining the crisp, white tablecloth.

“Aw, man,” Jake said, pouting slightly.

Riki shoveled the last of his chicken breast into his mouth. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “This is the second tablecloth we’ve fucked up.”

“Third,” Jake said, picking bits of pasta off of himself. “When we left Sunoo alone with the chili and he fucking-,”

Riki laughed. “Oh shit, yeah.” Riki stood up and held his hand out towards you, his gaze imploring. Reluctantly, you loosely joined hands with him, and he pulled you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go watch the Scream movies.”

“No,” Jake whined. “I wanted to watch the Amazing Spiderman.”

“No one asked,” Riki said, pulling you along with him. You stumbled after him, disappearing into Stoker’s dorms. Despite yourself, you scanned every possible corner for a hint of Jay, a trace of his breath, the sound of his sardonic laughter.

He wasn’t around.

–

Halfway through the second Scream movie, Riki announced that he had to take a massive shit.

“And why did you choose to tell us that?” Jake asked, slapping Riki’s leg as he got up from his plush bed.

Riki shrugged, shimmying between piles of laundry he had left on the floor. “I thought you might need to know about my bowel movements.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” Riki said, leaving to use his ensuite.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jake scrambled on top of the bed to sit next to you. He had been sitting cross-legged on the floor; Riki had insisted that you sat next to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake asked.

“Tell you what?”

Jake gestured wildly. “That you had a crush on Riki. I guess I could have guessed, but like, come on. Instead, you sort of made me feel like, I don’t know, I might have had a chance at some point…”

Had you? “Uh, it sort of came out of nowhere,” you said, belatedly realizing that you had copied what Riki said almost verbatim.

Pushing his tousled hair back, Jake licked his lips and sighed. “Right. Right, yeah. It’s just that I feel like kind of a dick now.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you said awkwardly.

“I mean, I don’t want to seem like I’m being pushy or that I’m entitled to anything, but you could have told me. Or Riki could have told me. I mean, like, you guys were pretty close and everything, but I didn’t think he was into dating…”

The name “Sieun” came to your lips, until you remembered that no one knew that Riki had dated Sieun. “Well-,”

“Like, you didn’t lead me on, I knew you had your own issues and all to sort out, but if you were going to date one of my best friends, I think it’s only fair to tell me. You know, out of…respect for my feelings? And so it wouldn’t be like I was hitting on my friend’s girl.”

If this was how Jake reacted to the mere idea of you and Riki getting together, you didn’t want to know how he’d react if he found out about you and Jay. “Sorry, Jake.”

Jake sighed again, his entire being seeming to deflate. “It’s fine, whatever. It’s cool.” After a period of silence, Jake said, “I don’t even care, you know? I mean, it wasn’t like it was serious. Like I like you and all, but it wasn’t serious.”

“Right.” Then you recalled what he had said at the party, when he had came out of the bathroom so flustered. “You said you had something to tell me, back at the party?”

“Oh. Yeah, that.” Jake slowly made his way to the floor again, one knee tucked into his chest, the other leg spread straight. He looked at the plasma-screen TV mounted to Riki’s wall blankly. “Well, I was going to ask you to go on the KC trip with me. I was going to pay for everything, but I guess Riki is going to take you now…”

You nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

Jake bobbed his head up and down slowly, his lips pursed together. “Cool.”

When Riki came back, Jake stood up as though being pulled by strings. “I’m gonna head in,” Jake muttered. “I’m still a little hungover.”

Riki clapped Jake on the back. “See you, Jake.”

Jake made a little wave, bid you goodnight, and left Riki’s bedroom. Riki sat down beside you and smiled. “So, what’d you guys talk about?”

“He had an episode,” you said flatly.

“Perfect,” Riki said. “It’s all going according to plan. Now get out of my room.”

You didn’t have to be told that twice. “Good night,” you said, gathering your long skirt up and standing.

“Good night,” Riki said, zipping his hoodie all the way up and covering his jet-black hair with his hood. “I mean, just night. Bad night. I hope your night is shit.”

You squinted at him. “You’re really bad at this.”

Riki had turned the lights out to fit the gloomy atmosphere of the movie, but you could make out his features via the light from the television. Suddenly, he looked older than his age. “I’m bad at it because I genuinely liked you a lot,” he said quietly. “I saw you as a friend, like a real friend. Everyone knows I really liked you. But you lied on one of my friends, and not something petty. You lied about something really fucked. I thought you’d be above doing something like that. It’s something… something I would probably do.”

“Riki-,”

He pointed at the door. “Out, before I lose my nerve.”

You wouldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t tell him the truth. He wouldn’t respect you at all if he knew what you did with the man who sexually assaulted you.

With some horror, you realized that Riki didn’t know that Jake had a problem. If Riki kept pushing Jake, who knew what he would do? The only thing you could do is trust that Riki knew how to balance the scales of his bizarre game.

The walk to Fawcett left you with far too much time to reflect. You knew that you had never fully had Jay, that he wouldn’t allow you to possess him in a tangible form. But you hadn’t realized that you would lose your friend, too.

#enha smut #kpop fanfiction #enhypen smut #jay smut #kpop smut

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?”

It is.

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie.

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors.

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams.

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve—

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again.

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame?

Yeah.

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross.

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.”

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant.

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first.

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud.

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

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writingforstraykids · 1 year ago

Text

I owe you a kiss Pt.3

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2420

Summary: Whilst Minho and you grow closer his relationship to Chan is strained, suffering from all the responsibility he has to carry for the group. You want nothing more than your boys to work things out..

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, soft!min, mention of blood

A/N: I already know you guys will hate me, but I promise there'll be more in a week🥺🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

Two months later

You giggle softly as Minho pulls you into his arms and sways you through the kitchen. A sappy love song starts playing in the background. He pulls you in as close as he can, humming along to the tune, and rests his head against yours. You know, he had a long day, organizing their group's schedules and deciding what would happen now and what would wait until Chan was back. You let him take the lead and feel him relax, his breathing calming against your chest. Minho turns his head a little, planting soft kisses on your cheek, and you can feel him smile. “I love you, honey,” he whispers.

“I love you too, darling,” you whisper right back and turn to look at him. Your breath hitches at how soft and in love he looks. “I’m proud of you.”

“Hm?” he hums in confusion, still swaying softly.

“I know how hard it is to manage everything without Channie at the company. It’s not what you signed up for,” you tell him gently.

“He’s my husband, I’ve signed up for it the minute I let him love me,” he smiles tiredly.

“I know, but never alone before,” you remind him gently. “You’re doing great, darling. Chan and I are very proud of you.”

He smiles gently and brushes his nose against yours. “Thank you, baby.” His phone rings, and you can instantly see the stress flooding his face. It's a little worrying to see him dripping with the same exhaustion you only knew from Chan so far. You gently ease it from his pocket and smile, showing him the screen. “Oh,” he smirks and gives you an apologetic smile before taking the call. “Hi, Channie love,” he says, giving you a kiss and quickly going upstairs. You watch him with a soft smile, glad Chan has called at this very moment. The three of you worked out a rhythm with calling quite quickly; one day Minho, one day you, one day the two of you. This allowed you all to keep your personal relationship with Chan, as well as your marriage, intact.

“Hi, kitten,” Chan says sweetly.

Minho throws himself onto the bed with a soft grunt and stares at the ceiling. “How are you? Had a nice day?”

“Yeah, Hannah and I are about to go for a drive, she said she knows a nice place for dinner,” Chan tells him and shuffles through his old bedroom, searching for his sweater. “I'm good, actually.”

“That’s nice,” Minho smiles and turns to his side, trying to keep his eyes open. He realizes too late that he's been silent for too long.

It’s quiet for a moment before Chan speaks up again. “How are you holding up?” he asks gently. “I hope the kids are supporting you well?”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Felix is hovering, Hannie and Changbin are busier than ever, Innie and Seungmin are getting on my nerves as much as they can, and Hyunjin took over most of my work with new dances.”

“Crazy as always then,” Chan giggles, and Minho’s heart hurts at the so dearly missed sound.

“When are you coming back?” he asks quietly after a moment and bites his lower lip hard. Dumbass. “I don’t want to stress you, just wanna know.”

Chan is quiet for a while after that, and Minho closes his eyes, growing frustrated as tears well up in them. “I-I don’t know, Min,” he confesses.

“Mhm, okay,” is all he manages to say, trying not to start crying right here on the spot. He misses him so much that it’s getting a little too much lately.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Chan huffs.

“I said I’m not,” Minho insists.

“Stop lying,” Chan tells him, sharper than he had intended to. “You’re pissed you have to work double while I’m having fun out here.”

“I’m not…Channie,” Minho says firmly and sits up. “I’m too tired for this bullshit, seriously.”

“Mhm, okay, fine then,” Chan grumbles. “Sorry for calling.”

“Chan,” Minho snaps. “I was asking because I fucking miss you,” he bursts out.

“If you miss me so much, you could just visit, you know,” Chan says, not really knowing why he’s so pissed either.

“I can’t just disappear right now and leave them all hanging,” Minho argues weakly. “We're already behind.”

“If you’re so busy then what’s the point in me visiting, huh?” Chan asks sourly.

“Visiting? Is that what we’re calling home now? Is that all your husband and wife are now? A visit?” he snaps, tears finally falling down his cheeks. “Seriously, Chan?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Okay, you have five seconds to calm the fuck down, or I’m ending this call,” Chan says calmly. “I don’t know when I’ll come back, Minho, because honestly, I don’t feel like it right now. And if that is all that’s waiting for me, then I don’t know if I want to.”

Minho hangs up on him and sits still for a moment before throwing his phone onto the floor forcefully. He hears the screen cracking and winces softly but doesn’t bother to pick it back up.

You race up the stairs and rip the door open, blinking at him, confused. “What was that?” you ask, speaking of the loud thump his phone made.

“My phone,” he says, and you glance down at it lying on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, spotting the tears in his eyes.

“Nothing,” he snaps at you. “Your husband is an asshole, that’s all!”

“Which one?” you ask calmly and raise your eyebrows at him.

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that you're not his enemy. “Both,” he says sourly. “But your Australian one in particular.”

You chuckle softly and make your way over, stopping in front of the edge of the bed. You soothingly run your hand through his hair and watch him thoughtfully. “He's not coming back yet, is he?”

“No,” Minho whispers and stubbornly stares at the mattress. “I know I was the one saying he should go, but-it's too much.”

“What is?” you ask patiently, wanting him to voice his thoughts.

“Y/nnie,” he sighs softly. “Not now, please. Now I just wanna be pissed and sulk a little.”

You hum gently and brush back his hair. “Need some time alone?”

“Yeah,” he nods and flashes you an apologetic smile. You both know he'll get rid of his frustration more quickly if you don't see how shitty he feels.

“That's okay,” you tell him and cup his face, kissing his forehead. “I'm taking you out for dinner tonight, yeah? Just us two at that place downtown you love.”

“Okay,” he smiles weakly and squeezes your hips for a brief moment before letting go of you. He watches you leave before falling back onto the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks back to their conversation, and his throat tightens up painfully. Tears burn in his eyes, and he curses at himself quietly. “Stop being so fucking dramatic,” he tells himself and blinks them away.

You glance up from your spot on the sofa as Minho comes downstairs only minutes later. “That was fast?”

“I won't ruin our date night,” Minho announces as he makes his way over. He stops in front of you and timidly tugs at his sleeve. “Also, I need a hug.”

Your smile softens, and you gently pat the space next to you. A surprised giggle leaves your lips as Minho places himself in your lap instead, burying his face in your shoulder. You soothingly rub his back and hug him tight, gently rocking him in your arms. “I love you, Minnie.”

“I love you too,” he says softly.

“And Channie does as well, yeah?” you ask, and your heart drops as Minho doesn't answer. You gently pull him back, spotting tears in his eyes. “Oh, darling, that bad?”

Minho shakes his head and lowers his gaze. “I'm tired as hell. That only makes it worse.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” you ask gently, and Minho gives in and tells you about his argument with Chan.

“I know I was overreacting, but he pissed me off,” Minho sighs as he's done.

“You were a little. But so was he,” you chuckle.

“You're married to two idiots, I'm sorry,” Minho chuckles weakly and sighs. “Okay, come on.”

“We don't have to go if you're not feeling up for it,” you assure him. “We can order in, watch a movie or something.”

“No, if my beautiful wife wants to go out for a date, that's what she gets,” he shakes his head and smiles at you sweetly. You blush a little, which gives him the opportunity to kiss you fiercely. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile.

Minho's gentle fingers brush against your skin as he laces up your dress in the back. As he's done, his eyes meet yours in the mirror, and they instantly soften, as they always do. His hands find your hips, and he leans down, pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. “You're so beautiful.”

You blush softly and chuckle at yourself for still getting flustered after all those years. “Min,” you say sweetly.

“Don't even try to deny it,” your husband giggles and pulls you against his body. “I love you so much, never forget that, yeah?”

“How could I?” you ask, amused, and cover his hands with yours. “You're unforgettable Min, in every way,” you say and turn in his arms to face him. “My sweet Minho.”

A beautiful smile tugs at his lips, bunny teeth showing as he gives in to the feeling. It travels to his eyes, makes them sparkle so prettily, and you can't help but mirror his smile. He gently caresses your cheek and pulls you into a soft, loving, tender kiss. “My beloved Y/nnie,” he whispers against your lips.

Not much later, you're at the restaurant and Minho seems to cheer up, chewing happily on his food. You giggle at him fondly. “You're so cute.”

He looks almost offended and quickly swallows. “Ey, I have a reputation.”

“Forget it,” you snort. “Everyone who could see you like that would agree with me.”

“Stay always agrees with you when you write those stupid little captions,” he snorts and takes the next bite, doing a little happy wiggle in his seat. His eyes widen as he catches himself doing so, and you start laughing. “Oh fuck off,” he laughs.

You giggle adoringly, and the two of you exchange a soft smile. “You're pretty.”

“Will you stop now?” he asks softly, slowly blushing.

“Never. You're too cute,” you tease him.

“Do I have to remind you again why we have two chopsticks and two eyes?” he threatens you jokingly.

“No, thank you,” you laugh and glance down as your phone pings with a message. Channie.

Minho notices you hesitating for a moment. “Go on,” he urges you gently.

Channie angel❣️: Hey there, my beautiful baby, hope you're doing alright. Don't tell Minnie, but I'll be back for his birthday in two weeks. I love you so so much and can't wait to see you again!🌹🖤

You: Oh, that's exciting!!! I won't tell him a word, promise❤️

You:…but you should text him, Channie angel, he's hurt🥺💔

Channie angel❣️: I'll call him as soon as I'm back at my parents’ place. Enjoy your night out, baby🖤

Channie angel❣️: Tell him I love him.

You look up from your phone and swallow softly, seeing Minho glancing at his broken screen timidly. “Darling?”

“Yeah?” he asks and puts on a warm smile for you.

“Chan says he loves you,” you tell him, and Minho's smile falters a little in surprise. “He wants to call later.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. “Thank you.”

“You'll be okay?” you ask him worriedly and reach for his hand across the table.

“Always,” he promises and brings up your hand to his lips, kissing it. “He can act stupid all he wants, I have you right here tonight.”

You chuckle, amused, and squeeze his hand. “Don't give up on him, yeah? I know it's not easy at the moment…but he still loves you.”

“I know,” Minho assures you gently.

“You two are at your best when you're working together,” you tell him and search his eyes. “He loves you, no matter what.”

Minho nods gently, not wanting to get emotional out here in public. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Any time,” you smile at him softly. “Let's go home, cuddle?”

Minho's face breaks into a beautiful, soft smile, and you study his features as if you'd want to engrave this picture in your brain forever. “Let's go home,” he nods.

Chan barely steps into his room as his phone rings with Minho's signature tune. He frowns softly, wondering why he was calling him now when he told him he would. Chan takes the call and braces himself. “Hey, Minho.”

“Channie,” Minho sobs into the phone and Chan's throat tightens at the broken sound.

“Baby?” he asks worriedly.

“I'm sorry, I fucked up. Fucked up so bad,” Minho rambles through tears, pacing the bathroom. “I swear I didn't mean to.”

Chan frowns softly, and he stops in front of his bed. “Minho, it's okay, it wasn't that bad, hm? It was just a small fight.” he tries softly, and a high-pitched sound leaves Minho's lips. Minho sinks to the floor, breathing heavily, and pulls his legs up to his chest as his shock takes over. Chan picks up on it and sits down at the edge of his bed. “Can we switch to a video call?” What the hell?

“O-Okay,” Minho sobs and accepts the call.

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out.

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers.

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaasia111 @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland

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