#I'm small people I should have raised my hand lol

[mint-ty]

"what's this? boxers? smells like shit. I fucking love it!"

you heard here first guys :D not like we didn't know lol

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Cancun Trip (Popstar!Fem!Reader x Bodyguard!Punk!Miguel O’Hara)

Hi hi:3 I’m alive (kinda lol) this is a fun little thing I was thinking of lol enjoy! Not proofread.

SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Drinking, cursing,, biting, unprotected PinV (wrap it up people!) Fingering with ringers, Miguel had some interesting piercings :)tispy fucking, dirty talk (???), enjoy :3

Word count: 3k

Playlist AU Masterlist

—

Post-tour vacations were always your favorite thing, no dance practices, no boring meetings and most importantly, no manager to stop you from partying all night. And although Miguel was still technically on the clock, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t treat this as a vacation of his own.

That’s how you ended up with your heels in hand, trying to not stumble as you and Miguel drunkenly giggled on the walk back from the club at three in the morning.

“Come on princess, let me carry you, you’re gonna get cut on something.” Miguel mumbled, hands going to rest gently on the small of your back.

“I’m fine, I’m walking on sand.” You giggled, stumbling slightly as you looked back at him. Not phased when he moves his hand down slightly to wrap around your hip.

“Sand won’t stop you from getting cut from a beer bottle.” He pointed out.

“I can see the hotel from right here, it’s fine-Oh my god! Miguel put me down!” You clenched your heels against your chest as you were suddenly lifted off the ground bridal style.

“Not happening.” He smirked with a laugh, but you knew better than to fight against him, mostly because you’d end up failing. So you ended up just giggling the whole way to your shared suite. Where he finally put you down once you were both inside.

“Why did we come back here again ? I'm not tired.” You asked as you tossed your heels in some random corner, before making your way over to the kitchenette.

“You were complaining about your feet.” He reminded you, taking off his own shoes and his leather jacket. Draping it on a chair as he followed you.

“Oh yeah,” you hummed, opening the fridge door, looking around as you rummaged through the contents inside. “You want a buzzball ooor… a fourloko?”

“Fourloko.” He answered, making your nose scrunched while pulling out a can and a small buzzball for yourself. Handing him your drink first so he can open it since you already knew that due to your nails and the fact you were already slightly impaired that you wouldn’t be able to open without struggling for five minutes first.

“I don’t know how you drink that shit.” You mutter after switching drinks, trying not to cringe as you sipped on the strawberry liquor. “I thought I was going to die of alcohol poisoning when I drank one of those.”

“Princess, I’m over six feet and three hundred pounds, I can handle a fourloko. Small little thing like you though…” His voice dropped an octave as he went to sip his own drink, oblivious to the way his tone change seemed to stir something in your stomach. Mind slightly too hazy to see the way you took a bigger sip the second time around. “You should stick to that buzzball.”

His jab made your brows furrowed slightly. Annoyance quickly replacing the mysterious feeling before, as you decided to make yourself comfortable on the wooden kitchen floor. Not caring about the way your dress rode up your thighs when you crossed your legs. Instantly going to grab Miguel’s can and taking a sip when he placed it on the ground to join you on the ground. Regretting the decision after the first gulp, making you recoil at the taste as you put the can back down next to Miguel.

“Give me that.” He smirked playfully as he grabbed the can before it was even fully on the floor. Raising it towards his lips before leaning forward to speak again. “If you want to swap spit just say so, sweetheart.”

“You’re so weird.” You muttered in annoyance as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m surprised that your eyes haven’t gotten stuck in the back of your skull yet.”

“If you have the hots for me just say so.” You mimicked his words in a deadpan tone, tilting your head back to take another gulp.

“Oh please,” Miguel couldn’t resist the scoff that escaped his lips from your words. “Hate to break it to you princess, but you’re not exactly my type.”

“Not your type!? I'm everybody’s type.” Despite your attempt to deliver your words with offense and attitude, you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched upwards as you tried not to babble into another fit of drunken giggles.

“Believe it or not, spoiled little brats isn’t everybody’s type.” He smirked as he watched you move the little empty plastic ball to the side. Not missing the way your eyes immediately fall on his half full can. His hand immediately going to push it behind his back. “Oh no you don’t-“

“Just another sip, I don’t wanna get up!” Your pleas cut him off, immediately moving to your knees to scoot closer to him. Laughter began to fill the room as you attempted to reach for the can as he held it away from you, never noticing the way you had practically crawled on top of him. Barely registering the way his hand does to your hip in an attempt to help steady you. Your giggles only dying down when your eyes move away from the can, finally noticing how you two practically were touching noses.

Heat sinked into your lower stomach as you both gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, Miguel’s hand subconsciously tightened lightly on your hip, making your lips part ever so slightly as a silent gasp left between them. You wanted to say something to ease the weird sudden tension that filled the room, but your throat felt so dry that you couldn’t get anything out of them. The way his eyes looked at you alcohol made your head feel more fuzzier than it did at the club. You were feeling so dizzy, like you were falling-no,like you were leaning- leaning forward?

“Mmm-oh-oh my god-“ You pulled back as soon as you progressed what you had done, eyes shooting widen open and your hand covering your mouth. You just kissed Miguel. You kissed your bodyguard. “Im so sorry. I-I didn’t-I don’t know why I did that-“

But your apology was cut off before you could finish it. Large hands quickly moved to your shoulders as the oxygen from your lungs got stolen with each passing second. You couldn’t help the moan you let out as you melted into the kiss, melted into him. Manicured fingers entangling themselves into the little chocolate curls on the back of his neck.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Miguel spoke between shallow breaths, his forehead resting on yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths.

“We should stop.” You agreed, voice light as you moved to straddle his waist.

“Definitely.” He muttered before pulling you back, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you let out a hiss, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue in. The warm metal of his tounge piercing making you shiver as it glides over the roof of your mouth.

“Your piercing feels so weird.” Despite not complaining, you couldn’t help but whine.

“Wait till you feel the other one…” He mumbled under his breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Before you could get a chance to question what he said, his mouth was on the base of your neck. The pressure of the metal ball on his neck made your breath hitch as his hands dug under the tight fabric around your thighs. Impatiently tugging at the no-show thong that you were certain was drenched by the way it was clinging to your core.

“What happened-to not being your type?” You couldn’t resist the urge to taunt his earlier words, keeping your tone as steady as you could with the way his two middle fingers began to slowly move up and down on your dripping slit.

“I’m blaming this on the alcohol.” He grumbled as he sat back, eyes dark as he focused on watching the way you attempted to wiggle yourself onto his fingers each time he passed your needy hole, applying a bit more pressure on it with each passing. His free hand went to hold your hips down to stop your squirming. “Don’t be impatient, princess.”

“You’re taking too long.” You whined.

“Ten minutes ago we weren’t making out.” He brought his gaze back up to your face, before finally entering his middle finger, making sure to go extra slow to help with any uncomfortableness you might feel from the stretching. The corner of his lips twisting upwards at the sight of your lips parting with a silent moan. “You’ll be thanking me in a few minutes for taking my time with this.”

You let out a whimper, head falling to rest on his shoulder as you attempted to get used to the sensation of his fingers inside of you. The coldness of one of his rings sending a shiver up your spine each time he bottomed out. Involuntary clenching around his finger with each graze of the metal, making Miguel’s brow furrow in annoyance.

“You need to relax sweetheart.” He muttered, leaning down slightly to place a light kiss on your hairline in a half-hearted attempt to help you calm down.

“I’m trying…” Any attitude you attempt to spit out from your tone was lost the second it left your mouth. “Rings feel weird…” You added as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the building heat in your lower stomach and the slow pumping from his fingers.

“Did you want me to take them off?” Miguel asked, having to tear his gaze from your cunt, your sudden silence not pleasing him one bit. ”Did you want me to take off the rings?” He repeated, eyes boring into you as you squirmed against him.

“Mm…” You hummed as you shook your head, Miguel couldn’t help but smirk slightly at your actions.

“Use your words.” He said, slowing down slightly just to mess with you.

“No, no, I don’t want the rings off.” You finally spat out, shaking your head a bit more frantically than before.

“Nasty little thing.” He cooed, the smirk on his lips growing a bit wider as he focused back down on his hand. Pumping his finger in and out a few more times, pausing to insert his ring finger before continuing his previous pace.

“Oh shit….” You hiss under your breath, your shaky hands finding purchase on Miguel’s bicep, burying your face deeper into the crook of his neck. The building in your lower stomach getting ready to snap. “Shit, I’m close… Miggy I’m so close-“

“Come on princess, cum for me.” His growl, dropped an octave with the command, his fingers curling slightly to better hit that perfect soft. “Wanna feel that pretty pussy finish around my fingers.”

His words pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling shut as you bite down on him in order to muffle your moans. Making him let out a hiss as he slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“Did so good.” He praised lowly , pulling his fingers out slowly. Eyes darkened slightly as he saw a thin string of your slick connect you both still, pulling till it broke.

“Felt so good.” You replied, still coming down, as you moved from his lap to his lower thighs, surely leaving a wet spot on his jeans. “Need more.”

“Impatient, are we princess?” He teased, his hand moving to undo his belt, but were quickly pushed away by yours, wanting him to speed up.

“Shut up.” You huffed, hands fidgeting to undo the metal. “I haven’t had any action since the show in San Francisco, I’m a bit desperate here.”

“Wow, the (Y/N). Desperate. I thought I'd never see the day.” He teased, leaning back slightly. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d never think he’d see it, the way your eyes were glossed over, looking at his covered bulge like it could solve all your problems, the way your hands were trembling slightly as you unbuttoned his jeans. You’re hair messy and disheveled, your lipgloss halfway gone, the only proof of it even existing in the first place was the strawberry taste it left on his own lips.

His usual well-kept, semi well behaved pop star was now acting like a college student who was finally losing her virginity in some random room at a frat party. He had never seen you desperate before, he wanted to make sure he committed the view to memory.

So needy, so desperate, and only for him.

He couldn’t help the way he twitched under your hand as you rubbed his clothed length.

“It feels big.” You admit, eyes not lifting to see the smirk that formed on Miguel’s lips.

“Ima big guy princess,” He murmured with a head tilt, “why’d you think I took the time to help you warm up?”

“You’re so cocky.”

“Funny coming from you.”

“Shush.” You huffed, finally dipping your fingers under his waistband, the heat radiating from him almost enough to make you break out in a sweat as you began to wrap your smaller fingers around the base of his cock-

“OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK!?” You exclaimed, quickly pulling your hand away, accidentally pulling his underwear down in the process. Causing your wide eyes to land on where your hand had just been. You blinked in disbelief as you tried to process the sight in front of you.

The eight inches of length by itself would already be enough of a challenge for you on its own, what was really making your stomach turn slightly was the metal bars that lined the underside of his shaft, about an inch or so of separation between each bar, each bar having a small ball at the end on either side.

“I’m not putting that in me.” You stated with complete seriousness, Miguel couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “When did you even get that done?” You asked, moving closer to get a better look.

“College.” He shrugged.

“You’re insane.” Your eyes moved up to meet his, unbothered by the cheeky little smirk he wasn’t attempting to hide. Not fighting when his hand moves to the small of your back to pull you closer again.

“It’s not that bad.” He reassures, “Most of the girls I’ve been with either don’t feel it, or they actually enjoy it.” Yet the way your brows furrowed together and the nervous hum that left your throat was a clear indication that you were inconvenienced.

“I mean…it’s kinda cool… I’ve never done it with anyone with a…” You trailed off, looking at him through your lashes as you waited for him to finish the rest for you.

“Jacob's ladder.”

“Jacob’s ladderrrr…” You drew out the words as you nodded, then biting your lips as you thought about it. “Okay…” you sighed, “but if it hurts we’re stopping.”

“Deal.” Miguel agrees, before pulling you until you were hovering over his member. Your hands go to rest on his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself as you begin to slowly lower yourself down.

Oh.

Oh.

“Ohh…that feels…” Amazing? Ethereal? Heavenly? You can’t even finish your sentence, “fuck.”

“You like it?” Miguel asked, already knowing the answer from the way your eyes rolled back and your jaw went slack the second you landed on his thighs.

“Mhm…” You bit your lip as you nodded, wanting nothing more than to just start bouncing, but you knew you’d had to allow yourself to adjust to his girth or the soreness he’d leave between your legs would be much worse tomorrow morning.

After a few moments, you finally began to move up, stopping just below the tip before lowering back down. Your whimpers becoming more desperate and vocal with each moment.

“Shit… so tight…” He murmured, head falling back as his hands left your hips, placing them on the floor instead to help stabilize himself before thrusting his hips upwards, making you moan out his name. Groaning at the way you squeezed around him.

“Miguel…” You whined, nails digging into his shoulders. If he wasn’t still wearing his shirt, he’d be certain you’d be drawing blood, or at least leave imprints to match that note mark you left him.

“I know baby, I know…” He dipped his head to whisper against your ear. “Fuck, feel so good… how am I supposed to watch you dance around in those fluffy little dresses on stage now and not think of this, huh?” You didn’t answer, more you couldn’t. Too cockdrunk to properly think.

It was all too much, your body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. Heart pounding in your ears like it did when you finish a show, only this was so much better. Fingers tighten their grip on him as you felt the heat building the second time around, faster than the first time.

“Miggy…Ima-ima cum again..” You babble as you begin to bounce a bit quicker, making Miguel moan lowly.

“Where do you want me to finish?” He asked, knowing once you finished he won’t be far behind himself.

“Inside!” You exclaimed, almost too quickly. “Please Please ple-“

“Princess, I don't think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to -“ He began to protest, but his hands made purchase on your hips regardless.

“I’m on birth control.” You told him, making him let out a loud huff. He didn’t want to protest any further, mostly because he knew neither of you last.

“Shit…shit…” He grunted, rutting up into a few more things, his thrust growing more and more sloppy, your moans growing more and more high pitched before he finally felt you release around him. The way you squeezed him made eyes roll back as he began to empty his seed instead of you, riding out both of your highs as his hips stutter and slow. Breaths shallow as you. Finally rolling off of him once you both came back down.

“Jesus…” Miguel huffed , moving to finally get up off the floor, his butt sore from the hard kitchen wood. Taking a moment to tuck his softening member back into his jeans before reaching his hand down towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah just… my legs… jelly…” You take his hand, letting him pull you up from the floor as you use your free hand to fix your dress that was bunched up around your thighs, deciding to deal with your soaked panties in the morning. A beat passing before you spoke again. “We never speak of this.”

“Agree.”

—

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[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[xomakara]

Second Chance at Love

SUMMARY |  Jongho’s twin daughters really want you to be their new mom ever since you have been taking care of them after their mom passed. They’re trying to play matchmaker between you and Jongho to fall in love, but in actuality, you and Jongho already have feelings for each other.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS |  widow!Jongho, nanny!Reader, singledad!Jongho, dilf!Jongho, lots of fluff, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll!), face riding, creampie, impregnation, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW

LENGTH | 7134 words

TAGLIST | @yourlocaljonghoe (tagging cuz I know you're waiting for it lol)

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi, hello. Thanks @itsnotmydejavu for all the brainstorming. I really appreciate it! This was more fluffy that I anticipated lol. We really need more dad!teez fics out here~

"Joomi, I think we should make Daddy fall in love."

"With who, Jooeun? Y/N?"

"Yeah! Wouldn't Y/N be a great mommy? She already takes really good care of us! And she's mommy's best friend."

"Mommy would be happy if Y/N was our new mommy."

The two five-year-olds were huddled by the stairway, looking down the hall into the kitchen where you stood by the sink and Jongho cleared the table. After their mom passed away, the twins knew that their dad was struggling to raise them himself, he had no clue what he was doing. When you, their mom's best friend and their favorite person in the whole wide world, moved into the home to help out, they were thrilled.

They knew you had been close to their mom, but seeing how much you care for the three of them just proved to them even more that you are the perfect match to take over the role of their mother. You cook all their favorite meals, you read bedtime stories to them, and you even help them brush their teeth! You loved all three of them very deeply and would do anything for them. The girls admired you and adored your kind heart and the loving smiles you had for their dad and them. The girls noticed the way the two of you looked at each other when you thought no one was looking. Their dad had it bad and Joomi could tell that you did too. But you and their dad always insisted you were 'just friends' and that there was nothing more than that. So, being the bright children they were, Joomi and Jooeun put their minds together to hatch a plan.

If they made you two fall in love, you could get married, and become a family!

Their dad was walking into the kitchen. "How did their snacks go? Were the girls okay?"

You nodded. "Oh, it went wonderfully. The girls were perfectly sweet the entire time."

Jongho exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry for leaving. I had to stop by a client's office since we are having trouble meeting a deadline for a project that needs to be completed by Friday. If anything were to go wrong or anything would happen..."

You put a hand on his arm, stopping him from rambling. "Everything was fine. Don't stress yourself out, everything's under control here. You just take care of whatever work you need to do."

Jongho nods but hesitantly stops. "I'm...just afraid something will happen. The girls...they've been through enough. I feel bad for asking so much from you, I don't even pay you to take care of them or live in my home or-"

You chuckled. "Hush. No money is necessary to watch over the people I care about. Plus, this is more than a payment. You've given me a place to stay, food, and the company of two adorable girls. Now stop worrying."

The look Jongho gave you after that was too warm and sent butterflies fluttering throughout your body, but it made your cheeks heat up.

Joomi and Jooeun made small noises of "falling in love, falling in love, falling in loveeeee," over and over while they looked over at their dad and you by the stairway. They were careful not to be noticed by either of you and they were patient as they watched.

"Okay...you're right," Jongho breathed out a heavy sigh and you saw the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, his built figure leaning forward and closer to you.

You laughed. "Let's start planning a summer trip, okay? When things are not as busy."

He smiled. "That'd be lovely."

As soon as he said that, you heard the girls giggling by the stairs. "Were they listening to our conversation this whole time...?"

You covered your smile. "Probably."

Jongho scrunched up his nose, laughing to himself. "You know what they're trying to do, right?"

"I mean- they've been playing their games lately..." You let out a small laugh.

You can see Jongho shaking his head from behind you. The two of you walked up the steps, approaching the kids at the top and grabbing them. The girls screech playfully in shock, holding back a snicker at what their next plans could be. Jongho holds both of them in each arm, one girl in each, and you're unable to hold back your laughter at how precious they are. Jongho carries them both off to their bedroom, where he drops them softly on the big bed that the two girls shared. They're laying on their bellies, kicking their feet back and forth like fish, a huge grin plastered across both of their faces.

"I know your tricks, ladies. So do be a little less obvious about trying to play matchmaker." He scolded them playfully, hands on his hips and giving them a pretend serious look.

Joomi snorted, still kicking her little feet. "We've noticed you and Y/N."

"What does that mean?" He chuckled.

Jooeun flipped over, the bedsheets making a small swoosh sound underneath her as she laid down on her back. "You and Y/N have crushes!"

Your eyes widened. You felt yourself redden up. "Oh. Girls! No no no, your daddy and I are just friends. Best friends! Like, soooo best of friends!"

Joomi furrowed her little eyebrows. She glanced back and forth from you to her father. "You and Daddy love each other like mommy did, but don't kiss."

"Or...at least haven't kissed. Yet," Jooeun sang.

You let out a shaky sigh. "Where are they learning these things? Don't go saying things like that, the two of you."

Joomi nodded with a shrug. "Why not? Are you embarrassed?"

You let your gaze wander over to Jongho to look for some support on the matter. But Jongho was flushed and looking everywhere other than at you. It was obvious that this wasn't an easy conversation for either of you to have, much less in front of the twins.

Joomi noticed your actions and she smiled, snapping her head over to her father. "What? Are you embarrassed, Daddy?"

Joomi was giving him the same look she always did when she's trying to convince him to get something for her. With big puppy eyes, a wide smile, her bottom lip out with just a twitch at the end. Her eyebrows wiggle just a little, begging him silently and sweetly. She and her sister knew their father couldn't resist when they pleaded in that certain tone of voice, looking in their sweet little girl ways. They've played their games so many times, so why not try again?

"Joomi..." Jongho sighs, putting his hands on his knees, not being able to escape her large dark brown eyes. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"

The twins only let out tiny laughs, shrugging and hugging each other in the bed as Jongho stood. The girls love him very much and are grateful they have such a good father, despite their circumstances. Jongho leaves the room and you stay in the room with them, sitting on the bed, wanting to get to the bottom of where the girls' idea of a crush came from.

"Who told you about what a crush is?" you asked the girls after they sat themselves on the bed and changed into their PJ's.

"Uncle San!" Jooeun squeaks as the top half of her head peeks out of her PJ top.

You internally facepalmed, thinking about how Jongho's older cousin, San, was whispering conspiratorially with the girls after they asked him questions about life in a school filled with friends, crushes and parties.

"We thought you and Daddy liked each other," Jooeun had confessed innocently.

"Do you hate Daddy?" Joomi frowned, getting teary-eyed as her head pokes through the collar. "Do you hate us? Are you going to leave?"

You give her a hug, cupping her face with your hands and giving a sweet, reassuring smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. Not at all, it's just complicated. Please don't say those things again, okay?"

It hurt, seeing the disappointed looks in their eyes and on their pouty lips, but you tried not to show it on your own face.

"Promise?" Jooeun had pleaded.

You took in a shaky breath. "Of course. Come now, time to get to sleep."

You helped the little ones into their beds, tucking the blankets around them and reading from a fairytale book as the light to their night-light flickered from the wall outlet. They slowly drifted off to sleep and you shut the bedroom door with a gentle click behind you. With a sigh, you approached the master suite across the hall and opened the door quietly, catching sight of Jongho flopped stomach-down on the mattress, buried with a duvet as you chuckled at the sight.

You clicked the bedroom door shut as you entered, stepping over to him. "The kids are asleep," you announced softly, moving to sit on the side of the bed and leaned over, poking his shoulder blade.

With a quiet huff, he rolled over, his face and shoulders now facing you. His fluffy hair lay flat over his eyes and a low sigh passed through his nose as his eyes shifted to meet yours, eyelids drooped.

A smirk found its way to the corners of his mouth. "Those two will be the death of me."

"You know we'll have to tell them about us eventually if they keep it up with their shenanigans," you warned him, laying yourself overtop of him.

"I was thinking of ways to approach the subject with the girls in my head just now." he revealed to you, reaching his arms around you. "I'm nervous that I don't know what they're really thinking or feeling."

Your hands came up and framed Jongho's cheeks. "Oh, Jongho...those girls are too smart. They even asked San about what crushes are.”

"San? Why'd they ask him?"

"That's not the point." you whispered, running your thumb across his soft cheek. "Do you think we should sit down with them? Explain?"

"Explain what? That their daddy and their nanny are secretly in love with one another because they can't stop sneaking kisses in secret places of the home?"

"Shut up." you said with a playful nudge at his chest.

"But you admit those kisses are nice." Jongho says as he sits up, dragging you onto his lap, the blanket sliding down his toned chest as his arms remain around you.

"Extremely," you confirmed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel the hands on your waist move to cup the underside of your thighs, adjusting the way you're positioned on him.

"Hey." Jongho brushed his nose with yours as a whisper against your lips.

"Hello," you replied with a giggle, already finding his mouth and leaning in with the full intent of kissing him again.

"Would you be happy with a widowed, single dad?" He continued to stroke the back of your leg with his fingers. "What it be wrong for me and the girls to be happy again?"

The tips of your thumbs draw little circles on the back of his neck. "Nothing is wrong with that, Jongho... I think Eunmi would be happy if you and the girls were finally able to move on and be happy."

"What if that happiness was with you? With us?" he asked, pressing his forehead against yours and rubbing his hands up and down your sides and you gently rub his back with your fingers.

You lean into the embrace and inhale, closing your eyes for a moment, then pulling away. "When Eunmi told me her last words to take care of you and the girls... I think maybe that was her way of telling me that it was okay for us to be happy. It's not like we're strangers. Not like we haven't been together before."

You and Jongho had known each other for years, and at one point, the both of you dated back in high school for a year or two but broke off your relationship for various reasons. You met Eunmi in college and ended up staying good friends with her throughout the rest of the years. And when you found out that Eunmi and Jongho started dating and eventually got married, you couldn't have been more pleased for the two of them.

You were never jealous that Eunmi and Jongho were together. Never jealous when they got married or when you helped Eunmi with the twins' birth. 

Never once.

Because you loved them dearly and you wanted them to be happy together.

When Eunmi fell sick and lost her fight with the sickness that plagued her body and spirit, she pleaded for Jongho to promise her to live his happiest life possible, and that meant starting a family all over again. Because she couldn't anymore. She couldn't raise their kids, or start over as husband and wife with Jongho, so the least she could ask for was for him and the girls to be happy. When you visited her in her final days in the hospital, she grabbed your hand and asked you a favor.

"If you love Jongho and want him to live a fulfilling and happy life... then please, look after him for me when I'm gone," she had begged with tears in her eyes. "You know how to take care of our girls, and if Jongho were with you and the girls are happy with you, I know he would be more at ease. With more help, with love...and if somehow the both of you were to fall in love all over again with one another...don't leave him, okay? Take care of him...take care of the three of them...love them, make them happy...my family is your family now."

That was over a little more than a year ago, and Jongho, although still hurt over his past love's untimely loss, was healing. So were Joomi and Jooeun. That was proven by the fact that Jongho was finally starting to love again, albeit slowly, after a while. The twins were right. They knew that he was happy when he was around you, just like he knew the twins were happier when you were around, just as their mother, Eunmi, knew the same thing.

And the last promise he made Eunmi on her deathbed was one that he will make sure he keeps.

Live his best, happiest life possible, even with the way that his life was now.

Even if it meant being with you, the woman he once loved before and recently was falling for again.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your back hitting the plush comforters as Jongho shifts to pin you on the mattress below him. You look up and see the gleam in his eyes that have turned a shade darker from before. Your hands snake their way around his neck as he reaches and traps your face with his fingers and palms. A mischievous smirk danced across his features, his thumb rubbing the spot below the corner of your mouth, his index and middle finger rubbing at the shell of your ear. You shivered at his actions.

"Let's make them happy, Jongho..." you cooed, relishing in the soft, tickling touch of his fingers along your neck and shoulder. "Let's be happy, together, with them. Like Eunmi asked."

"I love you, you know that? I can't help but think that Eunmi knew what was going to happen, the whole time," he expressed with a big exhale as you pull him forward and close. "And she never once left me. Never doubted that I loved her even with my...previous feelings for you resurfacing."

"She loved you so, so much, Jongho. Don't ever think she didn't love you, or that she thought you didn't love her, despite the things that happened when we were in high school," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "She loved you until her final breaths and beyond, and wanted nothing but a lifetime of happiness for you and your girls. You deserve that. Everyone deserves that. Including you."

"Do you love me too...?" he whispered against your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek.

"Always have, always will," you promised, smiling and finally pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

The next few days passed in a blur. The girls were constantly scheming or attempting to make you and their father become 'official' to their little eyes. You and Jongho would playfully play the fool, knowing their secret plans, and doing small things that would give them the belief that their tricks would work.

But in actuality, you and Jongho were having a good time trying to guess what would come next. One day, you woke up early and had just finished washing the dishes from breakfast. The girls scurried up behind you, wrapping their small bodies around your legs like adorable monkeys clinging to trees.

"What are you two up to, huh? Going to try and climb Y/N like a tree and claim that I stole your new favorite?" You hear Jongho joked as he leaned on the doorframe between the living room and dining room.

The twins giggled in unison at the ridiculous accusation as Jongho slipped closer, grabbing both girls from either side and tickling their sides as he lifted the twins up on his broad shoulders.

"Never! Our favorite is still you, Daddy!" the girls gasped in between fits of laughter as you watched on in amusement at their antics.

You rolled your eyes at the girls' silliness.

"Careful there. Make sure the two of you are hanging on tight," you playfully warned them as they straddled Jongho's shoulder blades.

The two girls immediately sat and hung on to Jongho for dear life, faces buried on either side of his head. You and Jongho chuckled at the adorable display of their devotion. You reached out and bopped the twins' noses in turn as they peered up, big bright grins adorning their cherubic cheeks.

The weekend is arriving soon, and with it, comes an overnight trip for the four of you.

"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?" the twins cried out, looking out the passenger's-seat windows in anticipation.

"We'll be there soon," you laughed from the front seat where you were seated beside Jongho as he drove along the road to the campsite.

You and Jongho decided to take the kids camping, along with his friends and their kids to get a break from the bustling city life. His friend Mingi has a lakeside cabin and lots of land on which you can pitch a tent, start a fire, roast marshmallows, swim in the lake, and go canoeing or kayaking, just a few hundred meters away from the cabin itself. Jongho explained this to you as you looked out the window, smiling and watching the pine trees on either side of the vehicle whizz by at lightning speed.

Your thoughts drifted from the scenery out the windows to the scenery in the passenger seat beside you.

Jongho has his eyes focused on the road. His mouth was set in a small smile as he maneuvered the vehicle and focused on his driving, looking back into the rearview mirror to glance back and see his children giggling and talking amongst one another.

Then his dark brown orbs flickered over to your side briefly before his eyes landed back on the road before him. He turned and tilted his head towards you and his smile only got wider as his eyes crinkled at the sides, an adoring look settling over his handsome features.

"What's on your mind?"

"Not too much," you murmured, not realizing that you were being called out because of the pensive look you've been wearing on your face while looking out the windows. "Just thinking about stuff, you know, as a typical human is prone to doing from time to time."

"Got something you wanna share or something you want to keep to yourself?"

"Mmm...let me get back to you on that one."

Jongho let out a chuckle, shrugging and facing forward again. He kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive.

As soon as Mingi came into sight and everyone pulled up and parked in the driveway near his cabin, the twins were ecstatic. Unable to keep themselves in check as they jumped up and down and opened the door, they hopped out onto the ground and rushed towards him. Jongho's other friends' kids did the same thing and rushed forward, enveloping Mingi in a big group hug and pulling him downwards to smother his face and neck with affectionate kisses and screaming 'Uncle Mingi! Uncle Mingi! We're here!!' at the top of their lungs. A look of bewilderment crossed Mingi's features and he laughed heartily.

"Oh man, I wish I was that popular," San muttered as he watched the kids crowd the tall man, shaking his head.

"You're just jealous that Haru likes Mingi more than you," Wooyoung said teasingly, punching San's shoulder playfully.

"But I'm his dad!" San said with wide-eyes.

"And Mingi is his favorite uncle." Hongjoong pitched in.

"I've been replaced." San faked a dramatic swoon.

"Yunhee, make sure you get money from Uncle Mingi!" Yunho yelled at his daughter who only responded with a loud 'Got it!' from Mingi's front porch before turning around and giving her father a thumbs up.

You watched as the kids greeted Mingi on his porch and then he turned his attention to the adults and waved enthusiastically, pointing at the cabin door.

"Lunch is inside already and is ready whenever you guys want! Help yourself! We got games set up in the back if anyone wants to get their butts kicked in basketball or kickball. We also have kayaks in the back we can take out onto the lake. We've also got plenty of seating on the deck and some patio furniture. Make yourselves at home!" He announced, his voice booming out with laughter.

The adults nodded at him, not missing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he continued to yell at the kids. "KIDS. There's a small playground behind the cabin with a swing set, sand pit, slide, etc. and the water's right behind that. BUT-"

With that, the kids perked up and looked at him, eye-wide, eagerly hanging on every word that would leave his mouth.

"But~ If you don't behave well, Uncle Joong and Uncle Hwa are going to turn into super spies and capture each and everyone one of you!" Mingi announced in his serious adult's voice as he eyed the kids before continuing with, "Don't even try us! You can run, but you can't hide. Uncle Woo and Uncle Yeo have superhuman hearing and can detect trouble-makers from a hundred feet away. They'll be on you before you even realize it! Uncle Yunho and Uncle San have lightning reflexes! One little slip up and they'll snag you faster than your father can!"

The kids gasp and run past them in a hurry towards the playground that lay behind the cabin. The adults looked amused after their gleeful retreat, and it's not long before the noise of playful squeals and shrieks fill the air.

You and the rest of the adult pack burst into a fit of laughter at the fact that Mingi just riled the kids up into a frenzy. The others looked back and watched their offspring tear into the backyard. You watched a fond look cross Jongho's face, the smile reaching his eyes as he watched the scene in the back unfold.

"Jongho," Mingi said, interrupting Jongho and shaking him from his thoughts. "Are you and Y/N okay to share the bedroom in the back of the cabin? All the kids wanted to have a sleepover in the living room, and all the other bedrooms were claimed, save for one. I mean, I could sleep on the couch and one of you can take my bedroom..."

"It's okay, Mingi." Jongho smiled, pulling you to stand beside him and wrapping an arm around your waist, looking at you for approval.

"Ohhhhhhh~" the rest of the guys exclaimed, slapping him on the back, playfully. They were happy that Jongho was moving on.

"Wait," Wooyoung cried out, confused, "Wasn't there another room open?"

Mingi wiggled his brows. "Totally open."

“So why…” Wooyoung scrunched his face in confusion. Then his eyes widened in understanding when it clicked in his head. "Oh. Oh, damn!"

"Did you plan this or something, Mingi?" you laughed.

He holds his hands up. "Nah, the kids suggested sharing the sleeping arrangements. I would've switched our sleeping places around, but Joomi and Jooeun gave me puppy-dog-eyes and asked me to go along with their plan. Don't think any of the adults or kids here could resist a face like that."

"The twins and their shenanigans. Their mom was such a schemer so the apples didn't fall far from the tree," you said affectionately, remembering the woman you called your best friend.

"They take after Eunmi but their hearts are in the right place." Seonghwa laughed. "They know that you two like each other and have been wanting you two together for a long time. Guess today, we're accomplices to their 'Matchmaker-Twins'. Right, Captain?"

"Yes, we are," Hongjoong piped up.

You giggled at the remark, realizing that the others were in cahoots with the twins' scheme. You rolled your eyes, not surprised that all the kids and adults are in on the plans the two made for the day, the rest of the group joining in, egging the girls on, and enabling the twins to go along with their plots and plans.

After helping the twins and the other kids settle into their 'camping spots', and getting them properly settled in their temporary sleeping arrangements in the living room and putting them down for a nap, you and Jongho retired to the back room to relax in peace and quiet until the kids wake up again.

The two of you climbed into the bed and under the sheets, settling down on top of the covers. You and Jongho simultaneously sighing in relaxation and content. Jongho rolled over onto his left side and pulled your body, snug to his and against his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

"Want to get a quick nap in?" you ask.

"I know something that will put us right to sleep," Jongho whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck, right below your ear, causing you to shiver at the contact.

"Now?" You teased, a smirk playing across your features.

"Why do you think Mingi gave us the very private room in the cabin? I guarantee he put two-and-two together, plus heard my little munchkins' schemes, so..." Jongho retorted, continuing his little trail of pecks along the expanse of skin on your neck. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. His mouth was trailing hot and open kisses along your exposed flesh, his tongue flicking at the curve of your shoulder. The trail continued downward until he was stopped by the cloth covering your skin. Jongho looked up at you. "What do you say, baby? Wanna?"

In response, you reach down to pull up the shirt you were wearing up and over your head. Dropping it to the floor next to the bed. "We need to hurry, though. Mingi said the kids are probably going to wake up in the next hour, maybe, to finish up their outdoor activities."

"An hour is more than enough time," Jongho murmured against your jawline, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a hungry, passionate kiss as you grind against his groin. "More than enough..."

The atmosphere grew heated rather fast and in no time at all, the two of you were bare of your clothes, warm skin touching warm skin, his lips chasing yours and yours chasing his, trying to feel him as close as possible. 

"Get your pretty ass up here. Ride my face." Jongho demanded.

"You're kidding," You choked out in disbelief, he shook his head at your words, his hands traveling down your curves.

"Nah, get up here. Sit on daddy's face." His words were a breathy moan against the crook of your neck and you felt yourself blush from head to toe.

"Jongho," you whined.

Jongho moaned desperately and pinned you to the bed, lifting you by the back of your thighs easily and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he laid back on the bed, his dark eyes burning into yours, "Please?"

"Are you trying to kill me?" You asked, giggling as he stared at you.

"Just turn around," Jongho chuckled, and the next second you gasped as his hands grasped you tightly and pulled you around to where his face was inches from your soaked core. "Hands on the headboard and keep still."

His firm demand sent heat shooting throughout your stomach and down into your aching pussy, and you quickly scrambled to grab onto the headboard. You almost jumped out of your skin as his tongue took a long, slow lick up the length of your slit, your grip on the wood tightening as he slowly began circling his tongue over your clit.

The wet heat that pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves was almost overwhelming and you ground your teeth as Jongho began pushing his tongue against you rhythmically, licking and sucking at you as he tried to fuck you with his tongue. His ministrations were methodical and measured, never picking up the pace too much, but applying an immense amount of pressure every time he moved against you.

Your head was swimming at this point, the feeling of his soft mouth pressing against your drenched pussy was sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your body, causing your nipples to harden and your mind to reel. You couldn't keep yourself from whimpering slightly at the way his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, and your hips jerked downwards involuntarily in an attempt to feel his tongue deep within you.

A guttural groan erupted from within his throat, and it reverberated against you as his grip on your thighs became impossibly tighter. He pinned you against his mouth so that you couldn't squirm against him again, keeping you on his tongue so that it could continue massaging over every sensitive bit of your pussy.

And before you even realized what you were doing, you had clenched your thighs around his head, not allowing his head to budge from underneath your hips. He moaned against your flesh and picked up the speed of his movements, sloppily lapping at you and dipping his tongue deep inside, stretching your clenching walls, working your entire core in a way that was sending you barreling into a quick and intense orgasm. Your legs bucked out on either side of him as you moaned loudly, pressing his tongue deep inside of you.

"Gosh, Jongho! F-Fuck!" You moaned, pushing your hips down and riding his face vigorously until your entire core pulsed, sending warm shockwaves rippling through your whole body.

When you finally finished clenching your thighs around his head, Jongho managed to lift his head up just enough to begin sucking hard on your oversensitive clit. "Don't fucking move," He murmured against you.

As your head slowly spun, he held himself there, moaning against your wet flesh. Jongho would not allow you to recover, and his tongue never stopped its movements, continuing to lick at your walls as if he could drink every bit of you in.

"Taste so good…" He breathed, kissing your inner thigh gently.

"Oh please..." you whispered and gasped as the pressure of his mouth against you suddenly increased, Jongho moaning obscenely beneath you.

"You make the prettiest noises..." Jongho said as you felt his hot breath fan against your overly sensitive pussy, his mouth moving against you rapidly, almost as though it couldn't kiss you deeply enough. "Couldn't help but be noisy could ya? Little tease..."

"Baby, I can't cum again..." Your whole body was beginning to spasm now as the warmth between your legs threatened to burst again, his lips pressing hard against your clit and sucking deep and slow. Your vision was going white as the pressure built in you. You could feel yourself climbing toward yet another earth shattering release as you leaned against the headboard for support, knuckles turning white from your iron-like grasp.

But Jongho never let up, relentlessly dragging his mouth over your swollen sex and moaning hotly as he pleasured you, eyes closing in rapture as he lost himself in the taste of you. "Can you cum again? Can you cum on my tongue, beautiful?"

Your grip on the headboard tightened impossibly and before you knew it, you were cumming, your body jerking in time with your pulsing pussy, soaking him as you released everything within you.

Once your high fizzled out, and your heartbeat returned to a normal rate, you were feeling your body growing tired. Your fingers and arms and legs were sore. "Jongho..I need a break..." you sighed, leaning down to try and push his head away, your words sounding more desperate than you'd meant them. "I can't cum again like this, it's too much.."

"Then do you want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" Jongho asked, looking up at you through dark eyelashes as he circled his tongue against you. "I could kiss this pretty pussy all day long, but I don't think you can wait anymore."

You bit your lip hard at the words and glanced behind you to see Jongho pumping his thick member with his hand, still holding you in place with his other arm. "Please..." you murmured.

With a pleased groan, he helped turn you back around, moving both of you until he was positioned on top, spreading you wide apart and nudging his tip against your swollen entrance.

"Stop teasing me," you whined, the sight of his twitching length inches from where you needed it made you a bit crazy. Jongho chuckled lightly and captured your lips as he slowly pushed himself in.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your lips the second Jongho was balls-deep inside your pussy, your arms flying around his neck, clinging on tightly. He fit inside you so well, filling you up in every conceivable way, the tip of his cock hitting every hidden part of you.

His lips travelled along your neck and collar, sucking and kissing the soft flesh. Your mouth was still agape, hanging low with no sound, only letting out little gasps as his tip brushed past the deepest part of you, sending warmth radiating throughout every nerve-ending. 

"My beautiful baby.." Jongho hummed, pulling out gently before pounding into you, one strong arm wrapping around your hips and lifting them so he could pound against a different spot deep within you.

Suddenly it seemed to you as if Jongho's tip were brushing over your clit each time it pulled back before sliding deep into your entrance.

You gripped him tighter as his hips moved back and forth. Before you knew it, Jongho's name tumbled out of your lips as he hit a soft spot of yours. 

"Jonghooo..." you moaned, losing your mind.

"Gonna fill your pussy up with my cum...make you take it..." Jongho growled, snapping his hips up again with more force. 

"Wanna give you my kids. Would you like that? Add another to our family?" He groaned against your neck, squeezing your ass, then swatting it.

He pushed himself in as far as he could, biting your earlobe as his member twitched inside of you, "Tell me, baby. Do you like being a mommy to me and my twins, and being my pretty wife? Don't want anyone else...only my baby. I love you so much. You and my girls..."

"I love you and the girls too, Jongho. So, so much." You respond, feeling the tell-tale signs of the pleasure building deep within.

"Do you want to cum, my love? Gonna take every drop of daddy's cum inside?" he moaned into your ear. His husky voice was so hot, and the feeling of him, pressed into you, so unbelievably warm and powerful, caused your body to tense, and then go limp under his strong hands. "Want to give you a baby too, sweetheart. I'm ready for another set of twins, and another set after that, if I'm blessed with it."

And when Jongho slid his tip between your sensitive folds, hitting every raw spot he could as your body shook, that was it. The walls of your pussy contracted against him, a gush of his cum emptied inside of you, making its way to your awaiting womb, hoping for it to take seed and create more lives. You moaned and threw your head back, thrusting your hips upwards to meet his one final time.

Jongho grunted into your shoulder as he fucked his load into you, cumming as deep inside you as he could possibly go and taking deep breaths.

You wrap your legs around his waist, locking him against you and pushing his cock to the hilt inside your dripping walls, not willing to let a single drop escape. His pulsing cock makes your core pulse. The two of you stay as still as possible as you catch your breath, Jongho breathing hot air down your chest.

"Don't you dare pull out yet, Choi Jongho," you ordered firmly. You needed him close, wanted him near you. Jongho smiled up at you.

"Is that what you want?"

"Mmmmhhmmm..." you moan, and wiggle your hips to make his cock stir your insides. Jongho moaned back into the mattress and grabbed your waist tightly. You squeal in delight at his sudden movement, then press your lips firmly against his, claiming him as your own.

"Y/N...would you marry me?" Jongho asked softly a few minutes later, as he propped up on his left elbow and looked deeply into your eyes, stroking your hair gently. "Officially be the girls' mother and my wife? I was hoping..." 

He reached down beneath the pillows, and pulled something from underneath it. He looked shy as he revealed a black velvet box in the palm of his hand, holding it out towards you. "Would you, please?"

"Yes, Jongho." You say in response, watching him open the small, velvet box. Jongho exhales and a smile appears on his handsome features as he pulls the ring out of its housing, sliding the metal band on your ring finger of your left hand. "Absolutely yes."

It fit perfectly.

He crushed his lips to yours and you sighed into the passionate kiss, running your hands through his hair as his tongue pressed inside. It felt good, almost too good, but he pulled away and laid back on the bed. 

After a while of cuddling, kissing, and playing with his hair, Jongho buried his head in the crook of you neck. "I think we should clean the sheets, shower and just cuddle..." He said quietly. "I have a feeling that the girls will barge in once they're awake and we don't need them seeing this mess or smelling the room."

You hum in agreement. You and Jongho kiss softly, barely audible 'I love you's' being whispered between the two of you, your fingers running through his silky strands. You love this. You're so in love and you can't imagine not being with Jongho, and you truly love and adore his two girls.

After getting the room and the two of you cleaned, and the sheets changed and clothes pulled back on, the two of you laid comfortably in  bed in each other's arms.

Jongho turned so that he was hovering over you, one hand propping him up, the other lightly caressing your cheek and thumb tracing your bottom lip. He lowered his head and brushed his nose against yours, lightly pressing his lips against yours. He pulled away to see your cheeks a rosy tint of pink. He leaned his forehead on yours and chuckled. He went back in to continue kissing you.

The door flew open and the bed dipped as two weights jumped onto the end of the bed. Jongho rolled over, the twins landing in the bed, bouncing with their jump, laughing loudly. Joomi moved to sit on your lap, and Jooeun did the same with her dad.

"How was your nap?" You asked the girls, hearing the loud screams of the other children and their parents somewhere in the cabin.

"Good but we're hungry and Uncle Joong told us to wake you up for lunch, so we did! But we didn't run here. We walked." Joomi said.

"Yes," Jooeun agrees.

"Are you sure you walked or ran? I heard some feet scampering down the hall when I woke up," you smirked and booped their noses. They giggled.

"Y/N, are you and Daddy a couple now?" Joomi whispered in your ear. You heard Jooeun asking her dad the same thing.

You and Jongho both chanced a glance at the other before saying at the same time, "Are we?"

Jongho laughed before leaning in and giving you a small kiss on the lips. He also glanced at the girls who were jumping and cheering in your arms. "Why don’t we get you girls and Mommy something to eat?"

"I could hear them telling the other adults that their little plan worked." You whispered. The twins were talking your ears off, excited that you were going to be their new mother now that you and their daddy had finally gotten together.

"I love you." Jongho kissed you as the four of you walked together out to where the other adults were, to have their lunch.

"I love you, too." You kissed him back before kissing the top of the twins' heads. "And I love my new little girls so much."

The twins squealed and screamed louder, "Mommy, yay!" They both launched at you, hugging the life out of you.

"C'mon Mommy, lunch now!" Jooeun pulled you forward towards the table that had been set up for the lunch buffet style. Joomi held out her hands, palm open, to her dad. Jongho chuckled before interlacing his fingers with hers. The four of you walked towards the long table where the rest of your friends and the kids had already made their way to and piled their plates with their food, before sitting together and enjoying their food.

"Told you the plan would work!" The twins exclaimed, the adults laughing.

[james-bucky-barnackle]

Froyo

Synopsis: During a premiere red carpet with Drew, an interviewer’s question accidentally reveals that a seemingly ordinary dinner was actually Drew’s attempt at a first date covered by two random tiktoks. Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count A/N: I know I still owe you guys a Gwayne Hightower fanfic, but the chokehold Drew fucking Starkey has on me is insane. btw, I realized this is the second time I've created a fic based on real people vs the normal Marvel character thingy I do. And to be honest, there's gonna be a lot more... so maybe I should make this a series considering they're all triggered by an interview and Y/N's always an actress lol. ALSO at the end, there's a poll on what you think should happen next, and best believe I'll do my best to write that.

There’s an edit circulating on TikTok of you and your co-star Drew Starkey from your red carpet interview together. You’re both starring in an Amazon limited series about college classmates who become close after witnessing your professor’s murder and are now on a shared mission to solve the crime. You’ve known him closely for a year now, but have been following his career even before that. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man is gorgeous. But of course, you couldn’t let him know that.

As shooting began, the two of you grew closer, and you decided to be professional and put that whole fascination aside. You’ve both even dated other actors and celebrities, which have also been topics for gossip channels and paparazzi photos. Despite all that, you’ve hung out plenty, mostly in groups but also during breaks in filming—often grabbing lunch and coffee together.

Today, you and Drew are laughing as you finally see the edit that’s been at the top of both your PR’s nightmare list.

You’re dressed in an elegant beige gown, skin-tight and slightly sheer, which Carrie Bradshaw would definitely call the naked dress. Your hair is pulled back in a low bun, bangs effortlessly framing your face. You’ve just arrived at the red carpet, taking your time to chat with interviewers. The first few questions are light, mostly about how fun it was working on set and, of course, what you're wearing.

After a few minutes, Drew catches up to you. He’s in a baby blue suit, sepia shades covering his eyes, smelling incredible. His presence is like a tight, warm hug—well, a little tighter on your chest. His voice sends tingles down your spine as he whispers, one hand casually placed on the small of your back.

“What did I miss?” He smiles at you and the interviewer.

“Oh, nothing much, I was just telling Amelia how you’re always late to everything.” You smirk, shooting a playful look at the camera. Amelia, your interviewer, raises her eyebrows dramatically, playing along. Both of you laugh as Drew backs away, feigning offense.

“I’ve been here since like—” He starts to defend himself.

“Like five minutes ago,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Valid,” he agrees with a shrug, laughing.

Amelia continues her interview, moving on to ask about the possibility of a second season.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love to do a second season, for sure,” you nod, glancing at Drew, who’s nodding along, letting you take the lead. “But I’m not sure if it makes sense, since it was originally written as a one-season story. For that to happen, someone might have to die again so Kelsea and James can investigate something new.”

Kelsea and James are the names of the characters you play—who, of course, end up dating on the show.

“So you’re saying someone has to die for the two of you to get back together on set?” Amelia jokes, her deadpan delivery only making it funnier.

“I mean, I don’t know!” You laugh. “You’re twisting my words, Amelia!”

“I honestly think you just don’t want to hang out with me anymore, Y/N,” Drew chimes in, a playful pout on his face. “I’m hurt.”

“Is that why there wasn’t a second date?” Amelia asks, teasingly. Her tone is light, but the question lands hard. Drew’s eyes widen in surprise, his smile freezing as if even he didn’t see that one coming. He covers his mouth, trying not to laugh while you stand there, looking utterly confused.

“Second date? What?” You laugh, trying to figure out if this is some sort of red carpet joke you weren’t briefed on. You glance at Drew, who’s just shaking his head, still grinning but not offering any explanations.

You lower your voice, leaning towards him, “What is she—what date?” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to maintain your cool, though the confusion is clearly written all over your face. Drew glances at Amelia, then back at you, and you can tell he feels a little bad now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of awkward silence, Drew admits, “When we got dinner and froyo.” He says it so nonchalantly that it takes you a second to process.

“That was a date?!” you whisper-yell, smacking his arm, your jaw practically hitting the floor. “You said it was just dinner!”

“I know!” Drew laughs, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I said that because I thought you didn’t like me back! I was sending out signals!”

“What signals?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. “That’s unfair, you said it was just dinner! I feel so bad—I didn’t know!” You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it apologetically. You’re both laughing now, but you’re also genuinely flustered.

“I did tell you!” Drew protests. “I said, ‘Do you want to have dinner with me?’ And you were like, ‘Are we bringing Madz along?’ And when I said no, you were like, ‘Why?’”

“That is not enough, Drew!” You laugh, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your PR team is probably dying, but at least this little moment might boost some publicity for the show. You actually remember the video Amelia might be referring to; your assistant had sent it to you a few months back. You found it interesting and even funny because you honestly thought it was just a fan shipping the two of you together—cutting together videos and photos of you and Drew when you were out to eat. You try to recall what that day was like and pick apart whatever signals Drew was referring to, but you really can’t remember anything different from the way he’s interacted with you since you two first met.

You realize the gag has gone on long enough and decide to wrap it up before the awkwardness can escalate further.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry about this,” you say with a dramatic sigh, trying to regain your composure. “Even while confessing his undying love for me, he’s still late. Men, what can you do?”

Drew, still chuckling, wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of apologizing. You feel a warmth settle over you, even as your mind is still catching up to everything.

The camera flashes pop around you, and suddenly, those TikTok edits of you looking perpetually confused start to make a little more sense.

When the premiere starts, halfway through the screening, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You check your makeup, but instead of heading straight back to the theater, you decide to take a moment. The whole "date reveal" situation has thrown you off more than you realized, and you need a second to process it. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, replaying the interview in your head. You haven't had the chance to talk to Drew about it since, and the thought lingers in the back of your mind. You don’t want another clueless moment to make it into the tabloids.

You wash your hands, fix your makeup, and prepare to head back out. But as you step through the door, you see Drew standing there, waiting.

“Well, look who it is—the jokester,” you say, crossing your arms with a mock grin. “Here to ask me out on another one-sided date?”

Drew smirks, stepping closer. “Huh? What are you talking about? I’m just here to pee,” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Not funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but feeling a smile tug at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” His smile softens, and for the first time since the red carpet, you can tell he actually feels a little guilty. “I really am.”

“You should be!” You huff, but your tone is playful now, your annoyance melting away as you meet his eyes. "That was so long ago."

Drew takes a step closer, and you suddenly become very aware of the quietness around you. It’s just the two of you now, the noise of the premiere distant, almost forgotten. His gaze flickers to your lips for just a second, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N…” He hesitates, like he’s trying to find the right words. “About that second date…”

“You mean actual first date?” you correct him, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool.

Drew pauses, then chuckles softly. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actual first date. What do you think?”

You stare at him, caught off guard. You weren’t expecting him to just put it out there like that. His easygoing nature usually means he hides behind jokes or avoids direct confrontation. But now, with no cameras, no noise—just you and him—he’s being sincere.

“You know,” you say, your voice quieter now, “if you made it clear the first time, I still would’ve said yes.”

Drew’s eyes widen slightly, and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. “Really.”

His grin widens, and there’s something boyishly excited about it, like you’ve just given him the best news of the day. “No froyo this time, I promise.”

“Good,” you laugh. “Because that wasn’t a date.”

“Duly noted.” He steps closer, his hand brushing yours, and this time it doesn’t feel accidental. His fingers curl around yours lightly, the touch sending a spark through you.

“You know, we could leave early,” he suggests, glancing back towards the theater. “Skip the rest of the screening, maybe grab some dinner… somewhere where I make it clear it’s a date.”

You bite your lip, considering it, but your eyes narrow playfully. “And deal with the wrath of our PR teams later? You must love living dangerously.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You make a good point. But I promise, after all the photos, after all the interviews... we’ll do this right.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With that, you both walk back into the theater. His hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before he finally lets go, and even as you take your seats for the rest of the screening, the air between you has changed.

You glance at him once more, feeling that familiar warmth return, only this time, it’s not confusing or awkward.

The noise of the film dims around you, though you’re still hyper-aware of the room, the hundreds of eyes on the screen, and the occasional flash from the press in the back. Drew leans back in his seat, arms crossed loosely, but he’s not watching the movie either. Instead, he looks over at you, catching your eye.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you quickly face forward, pretending to focus on the movie. But then, from the corner of your vision, you feel him move slightly closer. The tension that was always there, that you’d pushed aside so many times, is undeniable now.

After the premiere ends, there’s the usual round of applause and the hum of people slowly rising to leave. Drew stands up first, offering you his hand, and even though you can stand up just fine on your own, you take it. There’s something about that gesture that feels significant—like you’ve crossed a line you didn’t realize you were approaching until now.

You’re both still in work mode, nodding and smiling at the industry people you pass, but the moment you’re outside, the cool night air hitting your face, Drew turns to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “How do you feel about grabbing that dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard by how fast he’s moving. “Tonight? We just got out of the premiere,” you laugh, though there’s excitement bubbling under the surface. “I know, but if I wait any longer, who knows what crazy schedules we’ll get caught up in again.” He steps closer, his smile genuine, warm. “I’ve waited this long to actually do it right. What’s a few more hours?"

“Alright,” you say, a grin breaking through. “Let’s do it. Dinner—our actual first date.”

His eyes light up. “Great. I know a place.”

The restaurant Drew takes you to is tucked away, quiet and intimate, and you laugh at how quaint it is, most of the other diners are old enough to be your grandparents. You feel comfort knowing most of them don't have phones let alone know who the both of you are. For all they care, you could be two kids coming home from a costume party just ending the night with a bite.

“So,” you say as you both sit down, menus in hand but neither of you really looking at them. “This is what a proper date feels like, huh?”

Drew leans back in his chair, grinning. “Better than froyo, right?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Significantly better.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, the kind where you both just look at each other and realize this is happening—really happening. You’re on a date with Drew, and it’s not some PR stunt or a casual hangout. It’s real. And for the first time, you’re letting yourself want it. "You think they're wondering why we're over dressed?" You hide behind a menu. "Overdressed? Excuse me? This is what I wear everyday." Drew retorts, making you chortle.

“So,” you say, resting your chin on your hand, “What’s the plan after this? Froyo?”

Drew chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He grins, eyes glinting with that same playful energy you’ve always liked. “Well, I’ll make sure tonight’s memorable enough that it overshadows that.”

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[ronearoundblindly]

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

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Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi my little doves, I've missed you, I'm in love with my work lol I really enjoy writing this series so don't forget to share your thoughts with me. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; Violence. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha,reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.232K

Chapter Four- ‘’Misery Begins’’

Giedi Prime, House Harkonenn

The air felt heavy in her lungs, the planet was orbiting a black sun, thus, everything outside looked black and white, no wonder these people were raised like animals, planet’s harsh conditions shaped their characteristics. The second she stepped out of the ship she hated every single thing but kept a firm stance.

Now she was settling in the guest quarters, the wedding was to be in 7 days and thankfully Harkonnen traditions says that they, under any circumstance, cannot stay in the same room.

Y/N had few of her personal maids and the rest was Harkonnen servants, all dressed in black with bald heads and pale, thin figures. Y/N noticed the looks she got from them, an outsider…

Inside the fortress one could see colors yet Harkonenns choose to keep it simple, her chambers consisted of a bedroom,  a small living room, and bathroom. Without a word she moved to the velvet armchair which was facing outside, she didn’t want to engage in any conversation with anyone, ‘’Prepare my bath.’’ She ordered without looking at any of them and then moved to the desk in her bedroom to write a letter to her family saying that she landed on the planet safely and everything was fine of course she knew that every letter she would sent was going to be read by Feyd-Rautha’s most trusted politicians, maybe even by himself so she kept the letter short. ‘’Send this to my family.’’ She gave the metal, thin device which was the letter to a servant, ‘’Yes my Lady.’’

After her bath which consisted of warm water and bath oils she brought from home, she smelled fresh and felt better. She was on her desk reading when her door was knocked, ‘’Yes?’’

A servant girl entered, she looked sickly pale and thin, her eyes on the floor, her hands interlaced on her thin stomach, ‘’Na-Baron wishes to dine with you my Lady.’’ It wasn’t a wish, it was an order. ‘’The trip have made me exhausted, please tell Na-Baron that I desire to rest.’’

She noticed the girl’s change of body language, her eyes rose to look at her ladyship pleadingly.  Y/N kindly smiled at the girl, oblivious to what was going to happen, she dismissed the servant girl.

The black sun of Giedi Prime shone bright just like the day before, Y/N decided to do some reading, learn more about the planet’s ecosystem. She had a light breakfast, the air still stingy in her lungs, she didn’t have much appetite.

Y/N Atreides was on her desk, taking notes and reading and her door knocked, ‘’Come in.’’ she was focused on the old books, ‘’My Lady.’’

‘’Yes?’’ she turned to face a man, he was a guard in his dark uniform. ‘’Na-Baron has a gift for you. He insists that you should open it after I am dismissed.’’ A strange request but what wasn’t strange about him anyways?!

Y/N couldn’t read the guard’s expression, his face was a blank slate, however he look more pale than usual skin color, was he ill? ‘’Thank you, place the box on the floor and you may be dismissed.’’ He did what he was told. She stood up and approached to the metal box, there was a strong smell of iron coming from it, it appeared there was no lock, no writings. Just in case, she placed the portable force field on her hand, activated it and tested it, working just fine.

Her hand went to open the metal box and her first reaction was to scream in terror, and her second reaction was to run to her bathroom and throw up her breakfast, shaking uncontrollably, on her knees like a wild animal.

Y/N Atreides didn’t know how many minutes or decades she had spent in that position, finally one of her old maids came for her rescue. ‘’My Lady…’’ she was an old woman with white hair and motherly touch, ‘’It’s okay now..’’ she was rubbing Y/N’s back gently and whispering kind words.  ‘’Is it-‘’ she sobbed, ‘’is it gone?’’

‘’I took care of it my Lady.’’ She helped Y/N stand up and leave the bathroom. The metal box which had the servant girl’s head was gone and yet she could feel her eyes watching her every move. She threw the shield on her hand and marched out of her chambers. There was a solider guarding her chambers, ‘’Where is Na-Baron?’’ she asked trying to control her tone. ‘’He has a meeting with Baron Vladimir and Glossu Rabban.’’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She said, could feel the anger on her chest, so hefty. ‘’But my Lady-‘’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She used the voice on him, the guard, without a word started to guide her to the meeting room. The corridors of the fortress were mostly black, some grey and white here and there, there were guards on watch duties, servants cleaning or carrying stuff. It was so different than the environment she grew up in, in Caladan or Emperor’s planet was vivid and thriving, here it was just… lifeless. She cursed her fate.

There were two guards on the doors of the meeting room, ‘’Open.’’ She used the voice again and the doors were opened slowly, Baron Vladimir was sitting on a metal chair which was placed on marble steps, towering over Glossu Rabban and Feyd-Rautha who were standing and looking up at him, listening to him as if their lives depend on it.. well.. they weren’t wrong. Baron was surprised to see her. ‘’Lady Y/N!’’ he announced which made the boys look at her direction but she refused to look at them, her focus was on Baron. ‘’What a lovely surprise, I hope you quarters to your liking.’’ Y/N bowed in courtesy, ‘’Thank you my Baron, you are the most generous.’’ She had to control her anger and she was doing a good job, keeping things formal. She had to be respectful to the family otherwise her position let alone her life would be at stake, she remembered Feyd’s words; ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ The room was barren with only a long marble table and chairs, the curtains were closed and white glowglobes lighting the room, no carpets, no ornaments. ‘’What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’’ he asked, she could see he was trying to understand her moves. ‘’I must speak with Na-Baron. It is urgent.’’ Finally she turned to face him, even though he was standing far away she could see his body reacting to her words, he was alert and an animalistic shine on his eyes. ‘’Feyd, please escort your wife-to-be to a more secluded area and discuss.’’ His uncle said and Feyd bowed to him quickly, ‘’Yes uncle.’’ And then he turned to her, marching like a soldier, he held her arm and escorted her out of the room, his grip was tight, he made her follow him. Since there were guards and servants everywhere she didn’t dare to utter a word.

Y/N had no idea where they were going, the fortress was a maze and every corridor looked similar. They reached a door, Feyd dismissed the guards and opened the heavy black door. Quite frankly he threw her inside, before she got a chance to look around she spit her venom. ‘’What is wrong with you?!’’ Feyd looked puzzled, ‘’Did you really beheaded that girl just because I refused to dine with you?!’’ she could feel her whole body shake in anger, being in his presence disturbed her equilibrium. ‘’Oh, that.’’ He remembered, his behavior made it worse for her. ‘’Yes, that!’’ He didn’t close the space between them, his hands behind his back. ‘’Did I upset you, little dove?’’ was he mocking her? ‘’Upset?!’’ Y/N couldn’t believe her ears, what happened to that sweet boy she met years ago?

He started to move towards her like a predator, he was much taller than her, towering above her she had to look up to meet his icy blue orbits. Years had turned him into a killing machine, what a shame. She hoped to see remorse in those beautiful eyes but found nothing. Back of his hand found her heated cheek, touching ever so gently, it made one wonder how could he behead an innocent girl and then touch his wife-to-be like a tender lover. ‘’This is what happens when you reject my orders.’’ His voice calm and collective. ‘’I hate you!’’ and she pushed his chest but had no impact so she moved away from his aura. That’s when she noticed that they were in his quarters of the fortress, she remembered the fact that he dismissed the guards, no one to help her if things were to took a turn. ‘’You hate me?’’ he asked, still calm. ‘’What else… do you also fear me?’’

‘’No.’’ she simply answered. His none existent eyebrows rose, his pupils dilated ever so slightly, she noticed how still he was, like a statue. His nostrils flared with a passion she could not placed.

‘’No? So you don’t fear me.’’ He repeated back, folding his arms, he wasn’t angry, only curious. ‘’Not at all?’’

‘’You aren’t allowed to hurt me.’’ Her voice higher than his.

‘’Not allowed?’’ he tilted his head, his voice low and husky, ‘’and how can you be so certain of such?’’ a slight smile pulled at his plump lips, ‘’What makes you so confident in that?’’ he knew his own intentions but he was curios of what went on within her pretty head. There was a certain aura about Y/N that intrigued Feyd, he was watching, listening and studying her.

‘’Let me go back to my home.’’ She whispered, even she didn’t believe herself but that was her intention, to go back and ride her horse, walk in the lush gardens, laugh with her other Bene Gesserit friends. ‘’You assume you have the final word where you go.’’ He chuckled, his voice lower than before. ‘’I decide where you go.’’ His gaze grew sharp like an animal, ‘’I decide what you do. And what I decide..’’ Feyd laughed again, ‘’You’re going to obey.’’

‘’I had a life before you took me, I had a family and friends and, and..’’ she could feel her eyes getting blurry, ‘’And?’’ he insisted, ‘’I had a partner, a lover, and you scared him away!’’ she was practically yelling at this point, female rage taking over her body. ‘’A lover? Don’t make me laugh little girl. If he was so in love with you-‘’ he opened his arms looking around, ‘’where is he? Why isn’t he here defending your honor and saving you from me?!’’ with the mention of Y/N’a former partner Pyramus, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t so calm anymore, he could feel rage rising in his body.  

‘’Because of you! You scared him and he ran! Otherwise he would be here-‘’

‘’Don’t be that stupid Y/N! He wasn’t so scared when I offered him a deal.’’

And with that Y/N was confused, ‘’What deal?’’

Feyd-Rautha was pacing in the room in anger, he couldn’t believe she was still ‘’in love’’ with that low life, waste of space. ‘’I offered him a supply of spice which will outlive him and his children and his children’s children. A generation wealth so to speak.’’

Y/N was shaking her head in rejection, her gaze focused on the floor, ‘’No, no,’’ she whispered, not believing what Feyd was suggesting. ‘’Yes Y/N! Your lover didn’t hesitate a second and took the deal.’’

‘’Then why did he try to escape with me?!’’ she yelled in pain, her heart was torn into pieces, ‘’I wanted you to see how pathetic he was and I staged it.’’ Feyd’s chest heaving with anger and he was so passionate to prove her he was right, he turned to go to the next room and brought back a metal device, he opened it, ‘’Here, he signed the deal.’’ She took it and saw the spice deal written on it, millions of gallons.. and Pyramus’ signature at the bottom…

Feyd grabbed the metal device and threw it on the couch near him, ‘’Not going to lie, you weren’t cheap.’’ And she slapped him.

Feyd-Rautha was slapped by a woman for the first time in his life, he froze for a second, shocked to see how bold she could be. He was even turned on a bit. With both of his hands he grabbed her delicate shoulders tightly, he was much stronger than her. ‘’LET GO OF ME-‘’

Feyd-Rautha didn’t care what she wanted, ‘’I might hurt you physically Y/N, but I would never do that to you. I would never sell what’s mine for something else. Do you hear me?!’’ his voice was rough and irritated her ears, her body was in shock and her shoulders hurting her. ‘’I would never leave what’s mine behind and walk away, I am a man, see me as a man not that little boy you met years ago!’’

Was that a love confession, no it couldn’t be.. someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen couldn’t possibly feel something so pure and innocent, or was it just being possessive and showing her that her life was in his hands till death do them apart. The stress overcame her body, her vision was getting darker and the last thing she saw was Feyd’s pretty eyes.

Tag List;

@superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

@palomavz

@beebeechaos

@jeong-uwu

@tian-monique

@avidreader73

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@taleah

@oneandonlybbygrl

@flower-frog

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@howibecameabadassbitch

@monstresshorn

Thank you for reading. :)

[impactedfates]

Hello. I'm sorry if this is sudden but I was wondering if you took story requests and if you do, could you make a platonic Dan heng IL story with the reader being the child of his previous incarnation Dan feng, the reader is great at telling stories and they would use the power they inherited from their mother to change the shape of pieces of paper into different people and monsters. (I was pretty inspired by the movie Kubo and the two strings) Jing Yuan is the one to tell Dan Heng about the reader even though he doesn't know them very well, but Jing Yuan felt like Dan Heng had the right to know about the reader especially after the reader had an encounter with Blade. (If this is too much that's completely understandable and I wish you a good day/afternoon and or night😊)

A/N - These 2 requests are kinda similar in a way. So I thought to mix them together in the one fic!! I hope that's alright to the two anons who requested (づ ◕‿◕ )づ This isn't my best work, love-hate relationship with it, leaning more towards hate but I hope youse enjoy this anyways (hopefully lol)

W.C: 1149

Warnings: Wrongful imprisonment, reader was forced to stop aging with a potion, hints at abuse/torture but not said.

Extra: Reader is a child and there for shorter then most characters, Reader has horns and a tail (Vidyadhara)

“Dan Heng, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere”

Dan Heng looked up from the book he was reading and stared at the white haired male.

“General?”

“Please, we’re far past formalities. In any case, there’s someone I think you should meet”

The raven haired male closed his book before it away and stood up, raising a small eyebrow at the General, crossing his arms, he spoke, inquiring more about what he meant.

“Who? I don’t think I was invited to anything”

“Your kid…well more specifically Dan Feng's kid”

Dan Hengs eyes widen just the slightest fraction, slightly taken aback by the information, but he agrees to go meet the child of his previous incarnation.

Jing Yuan offers to walk with him to where they were staying, while also providing information about them to make the “reunion” a bit more bearable in a way. Their name is [Name], although not technically biologically his, they did have his genes, Dan Heng wasn’t gonna question that.

[Name] was stuck in the Shackling Prisons for a while now. Ever since Dan Feng had been banished from the Loufu, some cloud knights thought it wasn’t enough and decided to imprison his kid as well, it wasn’t until Dan Heng came back and got the banishment lifted that they came clean.

Dan Hengs eyes grow concerned, looking at Jing Yuan.

“And the cloud knights?”

“Punished, they didn’t get any permission to send anyone to the prison. I released [Name] already, so all there is left is for you to meet them…don’t feel pressured to take them in as your kid though…I know you don’t wanna be tied to your past incarnation”

Dan Heng nodded a bit slowly, continuing to follow Jing Yuan by his side as the two continued walking. It wasn’t a long walk but Dan Heng still thought hard about what he’d do.

Eventually the sounds of kids clapping and cheering reached his ears, he looked up and caught sight of a shorter Vidyadhara talking to some of the younger Foxians. Their hands folded some paper, creating a paper crane before they clasped it fully around their hand, and out came an actual bird.

“And the bird flew away to meet with their family! Then they lived happily ever after”

The Vidyadhara chirped with a smile as the kids around them clapped, urging them to tell another one. Another story.

“[Name]! There you are, I brought over your fath- I mean…your fathers reincarnation”

The small Vidyadhara turns their head and looks curiously at the General before their eyes landed on Dan Heng. Their eyes widened a bit before they slowly walked over. And koala hugged his leg. Dan Heng was taken aback by this action but did not push the kid off, instead slowly leaning down and patting their head awkwardly. He was frozen in place due to the sudden hug.

Jing Yuan chuckled at the sight, before turning to leave.

“I’ll leave youse two it then, if you need help. You know where to find me”

“Papa?”

Before Dan Heng could even reply, the kid spoke one word that made him freeze a bit more. He never did like when people connected him to his past. Always telling people he wasn’t ‘Dan Feng’

“I’m not him…sorry…I’m Dan Heng”

“Papa!”

The kid pouted at him, eyes looking at him with puppy eyes, Dan Heng averted his gaze and tried to change the subject.

“Let’s…explore the Loufu together”

.

.

.

“Papa look! It’s a dragon plushie, can I have it please”

[Name] begged their father, looking up at him as they tugged his shirt.

“Again…not your papa but…sure, any particular reason why you want it?”

“I want to be able to cuddle you at night if you’re not there”

Dan Hengs eyes widened a bit as he looked away with an embarrassed blush. He wasn’t even in his Vidyadhara form but then again, the kid seemed to adamantly believe that he was their father.

Still, without a second thought he took out his wallet.

.

.

.

“Bellybog?”

“Belobog, like bell-o-bog”

Dan Heng speaks, guilding [Name] on how to pronounce the place. He didn’t know how it happened, but one minute he brought the kid on the express, the next March insisted they bring them to Belobog to see the snow.

“They’ve been stuck in that yucky prison for who knows how long, they gotta see the snow…oh! And build a snowman, we should have a snowball fight as well and-”

March proceeded to talk about the possible games and things they could do once they landed. So here he was helping [Name] with building a snowman.

“We should give it horns!”

“Horns?”

“Like you Papa”

He stiffened a bit at being called ‘Papa’ once more, sighing out. He takes two sticks and sticks them on the snowman's head to resemble horns.

“I’m not Dan Feng”

.

.

.

“Sooo, you have a kid now?”

Came a teasing voice, Dan Heng sighed and turned his head to Himeko who was helping to feed the kid some new things. Pom Pom wanted to see what the kid would like to eat, so Himeko was helping.

“Not mine…”

“But they see you as their father, you don’t see them as your kid?”

Dan Heng was quick to shush Himeko as the shorter Vidydhara looked curiously up at the two. He thanked the aeons they were still learning a few things due to the isolation, though…he did feel bad about it still.

Himeko could only laugh softly…until a crash was heard on the other side of the train. She muttered under her breath, something about March and the Trailblazer being irresponsible and prone to cause accidents, yet a smile was still painted on her face.

“Here Dan Heng, little [Name] here just needs to try one more things, you feed it to them”

She said, gently pushing the chair the child was sitting on to Dan Heng, he made no objections, simply sighed and fed the kid.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, I’m happy you’re back”

Dan Heng froze his movements at his kids' words, which in fact gave the kid some time to climb onto his lap and cuddle themselves in it, wrapping their tail around their body. They slowly fell to sleep with a smile on their face.

Dan Heng took a bit to process everything but sighed, carefully standing up and bringing the kid to his room so they could have a better sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Dan Heng, you left your-”

The red haired woman's voice died down as she saw the scene in front of her, with a knowing smile, she slowly closed the door and walked away, shushing the other passengers.

What lay in the archives was a small Vidydhara resting with their eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. Their bed? A taller Vidyadhara with his arms around the kid, cradling the kid as his tail rested around him as well.

OEDNIOFBS, the more I read this the more I hate it help :sob:

For anyone who has requested before this post, apologies for taking so long but I'll be working on it soon don't worry!!

[ihatealimore]

Rainy Day

(Word count: 1,633) (I wrote this a awhile ago on a rainy day and forgot about it lol)

Standing near the exit of the Hunter Association building, you glance up at the sky visible through the window. The rain is pouring down, drenching everything and everyone unlucky enough to be caught outside without an umbrella.

"Damn... I can't believe I forgot my umbrella," You complain, frustration evident on your face as you watch people scurry by in their attempts to stay dry, "At this rate, it doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon."

You let out a sigh as you lean against the glass, "Should I just... make a run for it?" You wonder to yourself. Your apartment is only a couple of blocks away, not too far from here.

You pull your jacket up over your head to cover yourself from the rain. Reaching out for the door handle, you're about to push it open when a familiar voice calls out from behind.

"(Y/N)!" His voice echoes through the near-empty hall of the building.

Your hand freezes on the handle, head turning at the sound of a familiar voice. Your eyes meet Kurapika's and you raise an eyebrow in surprise, "Kurapika?"

"(Y/N)," Kurapika starts, his brow furrowing, "Were you planning to just walk out into that downpour without an umbrella?" He questions incredulously, making no attempt to hide his exasperation.

Seeing you prepared to run out into the storm unshielded fills him with concern. He's always known you to be reckless, diving headfirst into dangerous situations without much thought for your own wellbeing.

"It's not just a drizzle outside," He reprimands sternly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

An irritated sigh escapes your lips, your grip tightening on the door handle, "Yes I was," You retort stubbornly, shooting him a defiant look, "It's not like I have much choice now, do I?"

Ever since your heated argument with him a few days ago, your interactions have become like this. A constant back and forth, an unending tug-of-war of words filled with tension and stubbornness. The disagreement was long forgotten but the hostility still lingers. Every conversation seems to turn into a battle of wills where neither of you want to give in or admit fault.

"There are always choices, (Y/N)," He counters as he steps closer, the distance between you and him now significantly reduced, "It wouldn't kill you to consider your own safety for once."

You bristle at his words, your eyes flashing with indignation, "I'm not some helpless kid, Kurapika."

"I never said you were," Kurapika shoots back, his tone stubbornly calm, "But acting recklessly won't get you anywhere either."

"This conversation is pointless," You snap at him as you turn to leave again, pushing against the door.

Before you can take another step, Kurapika reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip. The metal chains dangling from his hand clink softly with the sudden movement, echoing through the quiet hallway. His touch startles you and you freeze mid-step, looking back at him over your shoulder with an expression of surprise and mild annoyance.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, struggling to form a coherent thought. He wants to say something - anything that can wipe that annoyed expression off your face, but he's at loss for words; a rare occurrence for someone as articulate as him.

Finally, he clears his throat and speaks up, "I have an umbrella," He states matter-of-factly as if that should be obvious by now. A small beat of silence follows, though he presses on, "And I don't mind walking you home."

You stare at him for a moment, caught off guard by his response. The rain outside seems to fade away into background noise as you try to process what he just said.

"Are you serious?" You ask incredulously, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "You're willing to walk me home? In this weather?"

"Yes, I am," The blonde-haired man answers without hesitation. His grip on your wrist loosens, but he doesn't let go completely, "I said it before, didn't I? There are always choices. This is mine."

You blink at him, your irritation momentarily forgotten. His earnest declaration leaves you briefly speechless, "Fine," You finally grumble, averting your gaze from his, "If you insist..."

"Good," He states, releasing his grip on your wrist. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer, then he strides over to retrieve his umbrella from the stand near the door, "Shall we?" He prompts, offering you a small, rare smile. 

When you nod in response, you and him walk together toward the exit.

Once outside, he opens his umbrella with a swift movement and holds it high above both of you, protecting you from the steady downpour. The raindrops patter against the fabric, creating a soothing rhythm as you start your journey home through the rainy streets.

The silence between you two is thick and tangible, blanketing the air as you walk. Under normal circumstances, Kurapika doesn't mind quiet moments like these. In fact, he would usually welcome them. But with you...

He glances at you, taking in your side profile under the dim streetlights. The rain continues its steady rhythm on his umbrella, but it does little to ease the awkward tension.

As the silence drags on, his mind swirls with thoughts. Should he apologize again? He had already said sorry after the argument, but clearly, things still aren't right between the two of you.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurapika spots a car driving past. Without missing a beat, he subtly switches positions with you to stand on the side closer to the street. The action is instinctive and protective, saving you from a potential splash of water as the vehicle speeds by. It's a small gesture but one that speaks volumes about how much he cares for you.

"Thanks," You mutter quietly, your gaze remaining fixed on the sidewalk ahead.

"No need to thank me," Kurapika replies easily.

With another extended stretch of quiet, the tension becomes unbearable for Kurapika. He sighs heavily, releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"(Y/N)," His voice carries a tone of sincerity and regret that's hard to ignore, "I'm sorry... Again."

You remain silent for a beat before finally letting out a sigh of defeat, "I... I'm sorry too," You admit begrudgingly. 

Kurapika can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him, "I'm glad to hear that."

"Guess we're both too stubborn for our own good," You quip with a faint smirk.

A small, wry smile tugs at the corners of Kurapika's lips, "I suppose we are."

For a moment, both of you simply stand there under the umbrella, caught in your shared understanding.

As you and Kurapika continue your journey, the atmosphere lightens considerably. The rain lessens to a soft drizzle, and the gentle sound of it hitting the umbrella is calming, almost soothing.

Your conversation flows easily now, filled with casual banter and shared laughter. By the time you approach your apartment building, you and him are smiling despite the dreary weather.

As you reach the entrance, Kurapika lifts the umbrella away from him, shaking off the residual raindrops and closing it with hastily. Tucking the now-closed umbrella under his arm, you both enter through the revolving doors into the lobby, effectively saving yourselves from the bad weather outside.

"Thanks for walking me home," You say sincerely, "I appreciate it."

A light blush creeps up his cheeks, but Kurapika manages to maintain his composed demeanor, "It was the least I could do."

Just as you're about to bid him goodnight and head upstairs, you notice something. His whole shoulder on the side facing the rain is drenched. It takes you a moment to realize that he must've held the umbrella more over you, not caring if he himself got wet.

The realization stops you in your tracks and you're at a loss for words.

"You..." You start, shaking your head slightly, "You're such a hypocrite," You complain but there's no heat to your words. If anything, they're filled with fondness.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "Perhaps," He admits with a slight shrug, "But it was worth keeping you dry."

You roll your eyes, a small smile dancing on your lips, "You're hopeless," You reply, shaking your head in amusement. But then you hesitate, finally sighing and gesturing to the elevators, " Come on. You can dry off upstairs."

A look of surprise crosses Kurapika's face at your invitation, however it quickly shifts into a grateful smile, "Thank you," He says genuinely as he follows your lead.

You and him make your way upstairs in comfortable silence. Upon entering your apartment, you quickly disappear into the bathroom and return with a towel. Before Kurapika has a chance to react or protest, you're already patting down his soaked shoulder. Your actions are firm yet tender, an unspoken gesture of care that leaves him momentarily speechless.

He watches you in a stunned silence, his heart beating slightly faster at the unexpected contact. Kurapika swallows hard, feeling warmth spread through him at your actions.

"Thanks," He repeats once again, this time more softly.

"Just take care of yourself, okay?" You respond, shooting him a stern look. Withdrawing the towel, you fold it neatly and place it on the back of the couch. As you move past him toward the kitchen, you wonder, "Do you want something warm to drink?"

"Some tea would be nice."

The evening winds down with the both of you settled comfortably on your couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You're seated close enough for your shoulders to brush occasionally, an intimacy neither of you seem to mind. 

As the movie plays on, you gradually lean closer him until your head rests comfortably on his shoulder. Kurapika sips his tea quietly as he watches the screen, all while being acutely aware of you nestled against him. It's not how he expected tonight to end in the slightest. Not that he has any reason to complain.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for playing music in my shared apartment?

🎵🎧 so I can find it

I live in a shared apartment with two other girls (L and S). It is a student apartment because we are all university students, but it's not provided by the school. Just an apartment complex that markets to students.

I've been with my boyfriend for almost a year, and he comes over on weekends sometimes and we hang out or go to dinner, do homework, and yes, have sex. I have tried to be the ideal roommate. I never use my speakers to play music, only headphones. I have shushed my boyfriend when he laughs super loud during TV shows. Meanwhile, both of my roommates have a habit of playing loud music, burning candles and incense, having half a dozen people over and doing karaoke super loud and late at night with the only warning "having some friends over later."

Last weekend, my roommate L allowed her friend over to work on their small business stuff in the common area (L was not at the apartment, she let the friend in and then went to work). The friend had the TV playing in the living room, and my boyfriend and I keep pretty quiet when we're having sex. I guess we were louder than we thought, because I got a text later from L basically reading me the riot act for making her friend uncomfortable and being inconsiderate. The friend seems nice, I didn't intend to make him uncomfortable. L also said that there have been several times that she or S have heard my boyfriend and I, and that it's "fucking nasty" and I need to be more considerate of the fact that we share a living space. I thought this was pretty hypocritical given that I am almost always super quiet because the walls are thin, and neither of them bothers to keep the noise down.

But I'm not trying to start a fight, so I told her I didn't realize we could be heard and I would make an effort to prevent it in the future.

So. Last night was Valentine's. (Wrote this when the ask box was closed lol) My boyfriend and I went out to dinner, spent some time playing a board game in my room, and then I turned on some music on my speakers, turned it up loud enough that it would have masked normal conversation volume, and we had sex. The music was loud enough that, unless we spoke directly into one another's ears or raised our voices, my boyfriend and I couldn't hear each other.

I got a furious text this morning because I only played music when it was obvious that we were banging, so that made it gross to L, like I was broadcasting what I was doing to the rest of the apartment. I told her that she should do what I did and buy some headphones, and otherwise she could decide whether she preferred to hear my music or to hear me getting laid.

She said I'm disgusting and to grow up.

On the one hand, it WAS obvious that I was playing the music to mask the sounds. I don't like music during sex, but I was trying to be considerate (even if I was pissed). I don't think that I should have to stop having sex in my own home that I pay for, especially when I am already making efforts to keep it pretty quiet. L seems to think that I shouldn't do it at all while someone is home, but S is almost ALWAYS home, and tbh, I don't think it's unreasonable to want to have some intimacy with my boyfriend in my own home, especially on Valentine's Day. But I'll admit, part of me felt pretty spiteful & vindicated when I started the music, so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Cable/AFAB! Reader

So NSFW won on the poll option, but I decided to make both a sfw and nsfw versions :) I'm posting this one first since I can't wait, but I feel like I should apologize since technically I've posting this fic three times now and then there will be a fourth. Sorry for the repetition Ya'll! The Remy fic is still coming, but I just couldn't stop writing this lol. Also, there's a few callbacks to the previous cable fic so I'd recommend you read/reread that one before starting this one :)

TWs: Jealousy, creepy men, we choose the bear and the bear is Cable. Slight miscommunication, but healthy talks happen. Reader kinda goes into an anxiety spiral for a minute there. Could probably be read as gender neutral bc no prounouns mentioned.

    The bar is busier tonight than you’ve ever seen it. It’s humid, stuffy, and overly loud with all the warm bodies packed into the small space. You’ve never been one for crowds, but you know for a fact that Cable is certainly not a people person.

    The two of you had been crammed into a corner booth for about an hour and a half, originally having come to the bar to meet a contact that never ended up showing. Normally, the two of you would have gone home by now. It was your idea to stay and get something to eat, wanting to at least make some good with the newfound downtime. 

    You were comforted by the feeling of Cable’s keen gaze keeping an eye on you as you wove through the crowd, finding your way to the bar. You hold back a smile as you sit down, ordering some drinks for the two of you as you wait on the food. Eventually, you glance back at Cable and find him still staring at you, making eye contact as you send him a smile. You’re not surprised, but you raise a playful eyebrow at him. Cable, ever the protective grump, rolls his eyes at you in response, but you still spot the small smile he gives you when you send him a wink.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts. 

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and was getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately try to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable is ignoring the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. Theres a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

    “Ohhkay. Yeah, let’s go.” You tug on Cable's arm, practically dragging him away at first. You weren’t worried about the drunk, that guy sure as hell wasn’t getting up any time soon. To be honest, you were more concerned with the fact that you could never meet someone in this bar discreetly ever again. Yay. 

    The drive back to today’s apartment is silent, and you’re thinking too much about Cable, honestly. He’s not necessarily talkative himself, arms crossed in the passenger seat as he looks out the window. You send a nervous glance his way. You had called him your husband, and although it felt right in the moment as you tried to get another man off your back, you didn’t think that Cable would actually hear you. And boy, did he hear you. Sure, he responded… like he did. The memory of it almost makes your stomach flutter. Part of you wants to be absolutely delusional and just revel in the fact that he inadvertently called himself your husband, but what if he felt forced into it? What if he only said that so that you wouldn’t be caught in a lie? When you think about it, that had to be it. I mean, he was being overprotective in the first place, but he was just trying to defend you from unwanted attention. God- you just wish you could pull your thoughts together. Pick up the confusion and chuck it out the door.

    You drive on autopilot, and before you know it, you’re already “home”. Nathan splits off from you, going to change probably. The fact that he hasn’t really looked at you yet makes you even more anxious, but to be honest, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had. He wasn’t usually affectionate when he was high-strung, and you knew that, but still. You can't seem to let it go.  You’re curled up on the couch when Nathan joins you, fresh out of the shower and already in casual clothes. He gives you a little space as he sits, like he doesn’t want to startle you. He’s still as stoic as ever, but at least he doesn’t look angry. You’re itching to say something, to speak, and he can tell. 

    Nathan could feel your anxiety since the car, and no matter how badly he wanted to know why, he could tell that you needed a moment to get it out. He crosses his arms with a sigh. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but when that idiot at the bar started talking to you he just couldn’t stand it. He knows he blew your cover big time with that punch, but there would always be another crusty bar to go to. In all honesty, he was more concerned with your change in attitude. You receded into yourself in-between the bar and the car, and he didn’t want to know if he was the reason why. He wonders if he overstepped.

    “Sorry, by the way.” You finally manage to say. Nathan cocks an eyebrow at you.

    “For what?” He asks. You look away nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

    “For when I called you my husband back there. I know we’re certainty not… well, I was just scrambling and needed something concrete- and calling you my boyfriend felt weird so-” 

    “Take a breath.” You’re surprised as he cuts you off, feeling a little stupid as you try to collect yourself. There was so much you had been through, so much that you had learned how to handle, but this?? Why was it so hard to communicate feelings like this when you normally can communicate with him so easily on the battlefield? He was probably tired of your rambling.

    “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. We wouldn’t have even had a problem if the guy had taken a hint.” Nathan says, pissed off at the thought of the guy putting his hands on you still. You glance at him, a confused look on your face as you lean back on the couch.

    “So…?”

    “So, don’t apologize. It’s not like I actually…” Nathan stops for a moment, and your heart skips a beat. “I didn’t mind it” He finishes.

    “Oh?... Oh.” You say, slightly taken aback. Nathan is flushed red, ears included, staring straight ahead as he avoids looking at you.

    “So we’re okay, right?” You ask.

    “Of course we are,” Nate responds immediately, without even thinking. He looks over at you finally, still blushing a little. You relax at that, having a bit of deja vu. You realize that one of you had moved closer during the conversation, and your sides were pressing together. Nathan’s hair is messy, the gell having washed out during his shower. You always liked how fluffy it was like this, and to be honest, you can't help but reach up and run a hand through his hair. He huffs at the action, a ghost of a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at you, but he doesn’t stop you from doing it. He’s a bit too tall for you to comfortably reach, even sitting down. Your arm is getting a bit tired, but you don’t want to ruin a sweet moment like this one. After a minute of you debating what to do, Nathan sighs and pulls you into his lap. 

    “You think too much.” He says, closing his eyes. He brings one of your hands back up to his hair, encouraging you to keep going. You hadn’t expected the action, almost startled by it. Sure, it wasn't like you had never touched him before, but the two of you… you were still getting the hang of things. New changes, familiar feelings. It felt good to be this close to him, and for once you know that you don’t have to worry about your time together being cut short.

    “Does it bother you?” You ask quietly. “When I think too much?” Nathan hums, hands resting on your waist.

    “...No. You think more than anyone I’ve ever met. Your mind is always running about something or other. Really, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t thinking.” You notice a slight change in his demeanor during his last sentence, but you don’t comment on it. Instead, you find yourself admiring his face. Your hands shift down from his hair, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes, across his cheekbones. Your eyes drift down to his lips, and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him. He’s surprised for a moment, eyes flickering open and then shut as he cups the nape of your neck and kisses you back. You sigh into him, moving to straddle his legs as his left arm tugs you closer to him by your waist. The cold metal chills you through the fabric of your shirt, his thumb idly rubbing against you. 

    Both of you are out of breath when you separate, caught up in the unbreakable connection between the two of you. You look into his pretty brown eyes, and you want to say it. You want to say those little words so badly. But you know you shouldn’t. There was something about saying it that made everything a little too real, that made everything seem a bit too different. You want to say it, but you don't. You know he knows. You know- you hope he feels the same. It’s all you could ever hope.

    “Of course I do,” Nathan whispers, a look so similar to heartbreak on his face. Your eyes widen, once again not realizing his intrusion into your thoughts. Then again, maybe you were just so used to him lingering in the back of your mind that you didn’t notice anymore. You kiss him again. This one is slower, more intimate, more sensual, and he returns it in the same manner. You’re feeling a little sappy, but content just the same. Nathan finds himself in a similar well of emotions, hoping that next time he won't have to remind you for you to know it’s true.

[nejiverse]

YOU’RE HIRED!

Nagi Seishiro

In which you ‘interview’ your jobless boyfriend

cw: suggestive at the end, choki is the name of nagi’s pet cactus for those who don’t know, I’ll proofread this later lol

802 words

"Sei you really need to get a job", you plopped down next to him on the bed as he looked extremely focused on what ever game he was playing.

"Ehh? Sounds like a pain".

"Breathing is a pain for you love, at this point you're just gonna have to build a bridge and get over it", you spoke resting your head on his shoulder.

He frowned. "Building a bridge sounds like a pain too".

"...i meant that metaphorically, I don't actually expect you to build one", you didn't think you'd ever have to explain that...but here you were.

"Still a pain".

You were on the verge of banning that word from his vocabulary.

You let the room fall silent for a second before you quickly snatched his console away from him and crawled to the end of the bed.

Which unfortunately was unsuccessful because Nagi grabbed you by your leg.

"Stealing isn't nice y'know", he pouted while he put his hand out, expecting you to drop his console back into his hand.

"Oh like that time you stole my last chicken nugget?".

"Borrowed actually", he huffed.

You shook your head and stuffed his console down your shirt, showing your empty hands to him as if you've just done the most incredible magic trick.

"You need a life babe", it was true. All he did was wake up, play games, and go back to sleep. It was unhealthy.

"You are my life", he responded.

You laughed. "Nice try but that won't get your console back".

"Aw, damn".

You thought of an idea that'd entertain you but also would let you figure out if your boyfriend was equipped for a job...or if anyone would even consider employing him.

"Alright pretend i'm your potential employer, if you pass my interview you can have it back", you sat up and crossed your legs.

Nagi agreed, but only if you'd make it easy.

"So tell me a bit about yourself", you decided to skip introductions. There was no way anyone could flunk that, even your lazy boyfriend.

"Mmm my name is Nagi Seishiro, I like games and sleep", he blinked at you as you urged him to go on but he only shrugged his shoulders. "That's it".

You face palmed at his hopelessness. "Sei is that seriously what you're gonna tell your employer?!".

"Of course it is".

The fact that he was serious added to your worry for him but the show must go on.

"Why did you decide to apply for this job?".

Nagi placed a hand on his chin in thought. He already had his answer but it just added to the theatrics of it all in his opinion.

"I was forced to apply against my will by my girlfriend", he spoke.

"Seiii! Your employer will literally leave!", you shook his shoulders gently.

"I say good riddance".

"Okay one more question, and answer it properly!", you forewarned. He thought his answers were pretty proper though.

"Why should we hire you?".

"So my girlfriend'll stop bugging me about getting a job...do I get the job now?".

"Fuck no", you laughed, scooting closer to your disappointed boyfriend who laid back down with a sigh.

"If it makes you feel any better, A for effort", you laid your head on his chest. "You can just work from home or something".

"I can be a house husband", you looked up at him quizzically.

"Sei, sweetie, love of my life, you don't even do the small chores you have these days...I don't think that's possible", you patted his chest.

He grumbled under his breath, you really had zero faith in him but you were only being realistic.

"Alright then I can be a stay at home dad”.

You raised a brow. Nagi of all people as a father??. "For that you'd need actual kids. We've none of those".

You were taken aback when Nagi moved your head from his chest to the pillow and got on too of you, a hand at your head and the other on your waist. You blinked blankly. "Let's get to baby makin' then", he said it so casually, you were shocked…but not completely opposed to the idea.

“S-seriously?”, you averted your gaze to the side.

Nagi’s hand slithered up your top as he shook his head.

“Nah, I just realised I’d still have to do chores”, he took back his console and laid next to you, continuing his game. “Besides we’ve got a kid already”.

“We do?”.

“Yeah, Choki”.

Masterlist :)

a/n: more drafts..I’ve a biology exam in two days and I just came back from holidays 💀

[yayakoishii]

Hello love! I saw your post asking for Sanji requests and as a die hard lover of both the anime and live action Sanji, I'll happily provide.

The crew ends up docking at a random island to rest and stay a bit on solid ground. When looking for a place to stay/eat they come across the readers restraunt. Just as they're about to walk in a customer gets thrown out the front door with the reader angrily yelling about manners and how to treat people respectfully.

The readers a cook, a little short tempered, loud, and unapologetically themselves and Sanji instantly falls in love.

Alright alright I'm done now ~ 🍄🐛💫

Respect | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji × Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff??

A/n: Hey there anon!! I'm super late, but I hope you're still around to see this <3 tbh, this isn't my best work and I feel like it got a little ooc and derailed a bit towards the end but I hope you enjoy it! for all my short temper, I have no idea how to write an angry little gremlin lol.

To everyone else, thank you for the 100 followers and all the likes and comments!! This is insane tbh, I wasn't expecting anything on any of my works 😭 Y'all are too kind ❤️

also available on ao3!

The island they had docked on wasn't all that big, but the people there were lively. There weren't many hotels they could find since the town wasn't all that big, and any that they found were already filled to the brim. Finally after walking around for a while, they found a small tavern quite a ways from the shore. It seemed to be a little lively because there were sounds coming from the inside but it seemed to not be so full that they couldn't grab a table.

As they neared the door of the establishment, it suddenly banged open and two men fell through, looking a little roughed up and angry. The crew lingered at a distance, wondering what was going on when you came out, your chef's hat perfectly atop your head, with your hands on your hips.

"I better not see you around here ever again!" You snapped at the two, who flinched ever so slightly. "If you lack manners, that's YOUR problem. You can't take it out on my girls and expect me to treat you like the valued customers you are not."

The two sat up and glared at you, ready to retort but you raised the pan in your hand, waving it in front of their faces.

"Scram, unless you want me to burn your face," you finished calmly. That was enough. The two immediately scrambled up and ran into the distance. You huffed and blew away the lock of hair that had slipped out of your hat. You were about to turn around and go back in when you noticed the group standing there. "What?"

"Oh, um, we were looking for a place to eat?" Chopper felt the need to answer because you were staring at him. (You were a little curious and didn't mean to stare but that was hard when the group was full of… unique characters.)

"Well, a table just got empty so help yourself in," you grumbled, jerking your thumb to beckon them inside. The crew silently followed you in, to find that your tavern was mostly full too but the people were more calm and the ruckus of the other hotels was missing. "Oh yeah. Before you settle in, you should know the one rule of my establishment."

You narrowed your eyes at them. "You treat any of my girls with anything less than respect and you'll be thrown out like those two. Capisce?"

The crew just nodded, too hungry to actually bother with anything else but Sanji couldn't help but find you absolutely charming. It was common to find people who bent and let their customers do whatever for the sake of business, but you were protective of your employees and you didn't care about being a fake sort of nice. He watched you stalk back to where the food was being cooked, responding nicely to the customers asking if all was good. You were nice where it mattered, and unapologetically yourself if your values were threatened. It was all too easy to find you like a breath of fresh air.

That wasn't even what did it, though. For Sanji, what did it was the moment one of your waitresses had come back with the food they had ordered and he had tasted the dish he had watched you prepare with the ease and expertise of someone who clearly loved and lived for their profession. One bite and he nearly moaned there, masking it under a hum of appreciation.

Even Luffy was looking at the food star eyed and his speed in sucking up the food somehow increased. Sanji tried to not do the same, wanting to savour the taste as long as he could but it was clear that if he took too long, Luffy would have finished it all by then.

The hotel was nearly empty by the time they were done and they were one of the only customers still remaining. Sanji was sure it was dark enough outside that they would need light to make their way back to the ship. You were finishing off, calling out orders for the girls who were starting to clear up. You caught his eye and Sanji couldn't look away, mesmerised by the sight of you removing your hat and shaking your hair free. You were gorgeous, a good cook, and had the personality of a firework. He had to do something–

"Let's take her with us!" Luffy announced suddenly, banging his hand on the table. Everyone startled and Sanji stared at him as if he has grown two heads.

"Uh Luffy, that's kidnapping–" Nami's words died out the moment she noticed you walking up to their table.

"Hey there," you gave them all a small smile. "Will you guys be needing anything else or should I draw up the bill? I'm afraid it's getting close to closing time."

"Come with us!!" Luffy grinned. You paused and looked at him weirdly.

"Sorry?" You said.

"What he means, mademoiselle," Sanji intervened, giving you the most charming smile he had, "is that your food was absolutely delicious. Our captain would like to have you onboard as a chef."

You were silent, staring at them all with a blank look, until you finally looked at Sanji. Your gaze made him putty but he tried to remain firm.

"You don't have a cook or something?" You smiled, a little amused.

"Sanji is the cook!" Luffy answered, pointing a finger at the blonde man, who was too busy giving you googly eyes to answer. You cocked an eyebrow at that, looking at the said man.

"And you don't mind another chef invading your territory?" You asked, curious. The crew didn't seem to be more than the people in your hotel. There really didn't seem to be any need for an extra chef to you; and anyway, you were happy with your little hole in the wall place. You were just asking because you were curious, not because you actually planned to join them.

"If it's you, you can invade any space of mine, my lady," Sanji's eyes had turned into hearts as he uttered the words. Nami whacked him on the head, worried he would freak you out but that earned him a loud laugh from you.

"You're funny," you grinned, looking back at Luffy with an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, I'm happy where I am. Thanks for the offer but I can't. Now, are you gonna pay up or…?"

Luffy looked like he was going to protest but Usopp held him back. Nami grumbled as she pulled out the pouch of money to pay off their bill and yet all Sanji could think of was begging you to join them. He didn't need another person to cook; he was quite enough. But you, with all your loud beauty, were like a sparkling gem he would never find again. He wanted to have you, to know you, to know all your little quirks and interests. He wanted to cook beside you and fall in love– with cooking and with you, all over again.

The crew started to make their way out but Sanji lingered back, making his way towards you. You noticed and gave him a smile, noting that he really was handsome when he wasn't all heart eyed and half a puddle.

"Is there any way I can change your mind?" He blurted out, feeling his insides shake in anticipation.

"I don't know," you teased, suddenly starting to contemplate if it wouldn't be such a bad idea. You had always wanted to travel, to cook for all kinds of people with all kinds of ingredients; you just never could and had to make do with a small hotel on a small island. Wasn't this a chance to make your dreams come true? "What can you do to convince me?"

"Anything you want from me, mademoiselle," he said breathlessly, gently picking up your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. Your heart fluttered at the action, and you flushed. No one had ever treated you like this, like you were something delicate and priceless and every moment you looked in Sanji's eyes made you feel like you were about to be set on fire.

"W- Well," you stuttered, feeling like you had lost control, "how about you help with the dishes then?"

Surely he would not agree to that. This was just a game, and it was time he would back out. You would go back to your little place, and he would go back to his ship. There was no way he would be okay with–

"Is that all it takes, my lady?" The light purr in his voice made your cheeks feel warm.

"N- no, it's just the start," you turned away from him, trying to hide the blush rising up your cheeks. He was far too good looking to be paying you so intense attention and there was something about him that was capturing your heart, tempting it to agree to his words. If you left your girls behind, who would take care of them? All those men who treated them like they were dolls on display would not just disappear the moment you left the island. You couldn't leave them…

"Then, show me the way," he smiled at you, all perfect white teeth shining under the golden lights of your hotel. You just pointed him to the tower of dishes that his own crew had left behind and watched a little astonished as he really started to wash them.

"He's certainly one of a kind," your fellow cook and friend nudged you as she spoke. You couldn't look away from him as you answered her.

"I don't know what it is about him, but whenever he looks at me, I feel…" You abruptly cut off, feeling embarrassed. "Nothing!"

"You feel nothing?" You friend teased, "That blush on your cheeks doesn't look like nothing to me~"

"Shut up," you growled, hackles raised at the teasing. You never fared well with being teased or flirted with, and unfortunately, it seemed the blonde man– Sanji, his captain had called him, you remembered –was exactly of the latter type. He was no good for you, right?

"I don't know," your friend sighed, drawing up a sad smile as she looked at you. "I know your dream. Even if you don't feel anything for him, I know their offer is a chance for you. Why don't you just take it?"

"I can't leave you all behind," you murmured, heart paining at the thought of ditching them just for your dreams. "If I'm not here, what if–"

"Nothing's gonna happen," your friend interrupted you. "Come on, we aren't no weaklings. And I'm here, aren't I? I'll make sure everyone is safe and taken care of. So don't worry about us and go get your man– I mean, go fulfil your dreams."

You whacked her arm at the teasing, smiling genuinely as you watched Sanji finish off the dishes already. He was so fast, and you couldn't help but feel silly for finding that sexy. Competence and confidence was always sexy.

"Alright," you mumbled to yourself. "I'll do it. But, I think I'll take my time. I did say this is just the start."

Your friend raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. Sanji waved at you to indicate that he was done and you waved back, starting to make your way to him.

"It's more fun this way, isn't it?"

°•❀•°

[random-introverted-blog]

Seed of Darkness [Dark Justiciar Shadowheart x F!Reader]

Exalted Nightsinger, blessed be the chosen womb

Intended Audience: Mature / EXPLICIT [I'm starting to realize how old I am when I talk to people born in the 2000's...]

The Bit: You are Dark Justiciar Shadowheart’s prisoner, kept in the Sharran dungeons where she has been training you, trying to make you yield and become hers completely. She has also been trying to get you pregnant without success. When she comes to visit you tonight, she might finally have something that will make it a reality...

Warnings/Advisories: SA, mind manipulation, mind breaking, emotional abuse, forced drug use, breeding (its called seed of darkness, come on...), impregnation, forced pregnancy, magical pregnancy, magic penis, possessive behavior, corruption, sex slavery (forced pregnacy, breeding kink should indicate that much but just in case...), dominant Shadowheart

Words, all the word (count): 3,171 baebeee

Co-written by my bestie, the bestest of besties @shadowfalllen - If you like this MAKE SURE YOU THANK HER. It's only because of her that it exists and is being posted. Again, it was written between us as a self indulgent fic lol.

Sharing some Dark Justiciar Shadowheart content in 3...2...1

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

The sound of the heavy door scraping the floor wakes you up from your daze. And the clanking of armor tingles your senses. "Wakey, wakey, my pretty, little slut..."

You jolt up as you hear her voice and back away from her as far as you can, looking around like a scared deer for a way out. There is no way out, you know it of course. You're in your familiar cell in the Sharran dungeon.

Shadowheart tsk's at you, wagging her finger. "Tut-tut, my sweet... You know better..." As she begins to unstrap her Dark Justiciar armor...

You look up at her as she's taking off her armor, knowing full well where this will lead, but you have no other option than to just cower in the far corner where the shadows of the room are even darker, trapped, waiting for her next move.

Shadowheart watches you a moment before nodding over to the direction of the bed. Raising an eyebrow expectantly. Tossing her armor on the ground when she gets the shoulders off, working on the chain mail beneath next.

"My good girl, are you going to behave for me...? You know how good I treat you when you behave... And the sooner you swell for me, the sooner I can lavish you with all the joys and affection you, and our little one, can fathom..." As she tosses the under layer of armor aside. Now working on unbuckling her belt. Her gaze fixed to yours, a few strands of black hair in her eyes.

You listen to her talk. She has been trying to get you pregnant for a while, using a spell on herself and taking you with her polymorphed cock, but she hasn't been successful. Something about the magic hasn't allowed it. That hasn't stopped her from trying though. Over and over again. Day in and day out, you have been filled with her seed, forced to carry it inside you, feel it drip down your inner thighs... a constant reminder who you belong to.

You know what it means to resist her, to disobey her, and afterwards, she will just take you anyway. So you force yourself to move and slowly walk from the corner towards the bed and climb on it. You're now sitting on it with your back against the wall. The familiar pit of dread settles in the bottom of your stomach but turns into heat as you see she has already almost completely undressed.

Shadowheart smiles, but it's unsettling. Unnerving. She's slowly stepping toward you as she drops the belt to the floor. Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial of purple fluid.

"This, love... will ensure that your body accepts my seed. This will promise you freedom from this room... and admittance into my bedchamber. Where I can keep a close eye on the two of you..." She purrs, now crawling onto the bed. She pulls the stopper on the vial, and slowly hands it to you.

Her smile sends shivers of fear down your spine as she crawls closer to you. You take a look at the vial she's handing to you and then take a look back into her eyes. What you see in them makes you tremble in fear. The fear mixes with arousal as it usually does for you. She has that effect on you. You know there probably is no way out of this, one way or the other she is going to force you to carry her child. You take the vial into your shaking hand.

She watches your every move. A frigid, stern stare in her eyes, devoid of any playfulness or smiles like before. Her hand slowly touches yours at your wrist. Firmly, albeit with a gentleness, pushing the vial closer to your lips.

You're so scared that you take the vial to your lips and almost drink it, but you stop at the last minute. Images of yourself, heavy with her child, flashes into your mind and you panic. That can't happen. She already has you imprisoned. What hope will you have left if she actually makes you carry her child as well?

You contemplate throwing the vial to the far wall, thinking what the consequences of such action would be. But you're clearly taking too much time for the Dark Justiciar's liking, the grip on your hand tightens and her other hand takes hold of your hair and bends your head back, earning a gasp from you at the sudden tug.

"If you think this is something you can decide for yourself, think again." Shadowheart says, her tone of voice stern, leaving no room for negotiation as she forces the liquid down your throat. Your only choice is to swallow it all or choke on it, so you swallow it like the good girl she has been training you to be.

"That's more like it..." Her voice is low, eager, as she watches the vial emptying into your stomach.

You're not allowed to wear any clothes in the dungeon, so her hand is free to roam over your breast, pinching your nipple before it travels down between your legs. Her fingers slide between your folds, gathering any moisture, the evidence of your body's betrayal, before she rubs roughly your clit, the sudden harsh stimulation making you whimper.

"Are you going to behave now, my slut?" Shadowheart asks, holding your gaze, still bending your head back a bit, fingers entwined in your hair.

Something in you bends and breaks under her searing, intense gaze. "I will." You say submissively, embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds.

Shadowheart smiles and eases up her grip on your hair, the touch of her fingers gentler between your legs before she pulls her hand away entirely.

The smile turns into a grin and she strokes your head a moment. She purrs praises under her breath to you "good choice" and "my pretty little slut..." before reaching into her pocket again and pulling out another vial.

She pulls this one open with her teeth. Then locks her eyes with yours as she spits the stopper aside and slowly tips the contents into her mouth. Once she's finished, she takes yours and tosses both over her shoulder, indifferent to the sound of them shattering on the floor. "Just to be sure, love..." she murmurs, unfastening her trousers and tugging them off, a well-practiced motion you've seen more times than you'd like to admit.

The urge to move away from her is strong, but you force yourself to stay still, not daring to antagonize her further. You sit still against the wall, frozen in place again, looking at her now naked form and the hard-on between her legs, ready for you. No matter how many times this has happened, you still haven't got used to it. Your quickened heartbeat pounds in your ears, it's almost overwhelming.

She shushes you as she pulls your body down to lie flat on the bed, making you gasp, and slots between your legs. "This is it, you know... you'll take this, enjoy this, like a good girl does. Because that's what you are, aren't you? My good girl..." Shadowheart murmurs, cradling your cheek in her palm. The look in her piercing green eyes threatens to consume you.

When she calls you her good girl, it makes you twitch involuntarily, making you curse the parts of your body that are always so eager to yield to her touch. A flush settles on your cheeks. "I'm your good girl," you murmur softly, unable to stop yourself. Her gaze makes your willpower falter even more.

"That's right and I'm going to love your body like you're my precious, obedient lover... I wonder... when I fill you... plant my seed deep inside you..." Saying this, she spreads your legs wide apart, your knees bent. Guiding herself to line up with your dripping slit. "Will you feel it tonight? When our little flower sprouts inside you...?" Then slowly, almost too slow she feeds the tip of her throbbing cock into you.

Your mind goes back to the promise she might take you out of this cold, damp, bleak dungeon and into her bedchamber. Anything had to be better than this place, right? But you know what the prize for that is and images of yourself pregnant with her child flashes in your mind and you feel panic for a moment.

What does it all matter though? You already drank the vial, she's already pushing into you, it's already too late, anyway. You know how hung she is, so you try to concentrate on remaining calm and prepare yourself instead.

She sighs softly once she's halfway inside you. You bite your lips as she fills you up, it's so overwhelming this time. The prospect of successfully getting you pregnant has heightened her intensity even more than before. Her gaze fixated on yours, savoring this moment with you. Her gaze makes you shiver. It's evident that she's savoring every moment, trying to etch it into her memory. You're sure won't forget this either.

Once she bottoms out, her eyes flutter closed, and she holds herself there. Fully sheathed inside you. Intertwined with you. You're so full of her and just like every time, it's starting to be hard to think about anything else than her and her being inside you. So deep in your core.

She runs her fingertips along your hips; the touch leaving a lingering warmth. You can almost see her fantasies playing in her eyes when they open and drift to your hips. That soon they will bear the weight of carrying her child. Then her hands smooth over your stomach... and then she begins to move. Slow at first. Gentle. You can't recall her ever being this gentle with you. There's this odd tenderness in her you haven't seen before.

"You will look... so pretty for me... for us both..." you can hear it in her words, the 'us' she's referring to isn't just you and her. Her words make you blush again. You remain completely still, your vulnerable core laid bare for her gentle exploration as you let her indulge in her desires.

Shadowheart continues this tender, sweet rhythm with you. Shushing and cooing you softly as she rocks her hips back and forth. She sighs softly as her pace increases somewhat, providing more friction to your tight channel. With the same care and gentleness as a lover.

It's as if she's caressing your senses, making love to you. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire that burns deep within. This euphoria slowly spreads, like warm honey seeping through your veins, leaving you in a state of blissful surrender.

Submitting to her is always easier. The soft glow of her smile beckons you as she gently strokes your hair. She can be very nice when you are obedient, her voice like a soothing melody that lulls you into a sense of comfort. You can't help but imagine the way she would care for you if you remain obedient and carry her baby. Would it be so bad? The way she caresses your stomach, her touch as gentle as a feather grazing your skin, evokes a strange warmth within you. It's a tenderness you haven't witnessed before, leaving you longing for the security and affection she offers.

She gazes deeply into your eyes, searching for any trace of doubt, delving into your innermost thoughts. A smile of pure satisfaction slowly curls her lips, radiating a sense of pride. It's as if she always knew you would eventually embrace the idea of being completely hers. The weight of surrendering your entire being to her possession hangs in the atmosphere, a palpable energy that envelops you, making your heart race and your skin tingle with anticipation.

It's impossible to escape her gaze and the smile she gives you. You see the need in her to own all of you and you are so close to just yielding to it. Into yielding to her completely. You don't know if it is a conscious or unconscious decision, but you lift your legs up and wrap them around her waist and keep them there.

She moans deeply as you do, eyes fluttering a moment at how wonderful it feels for you to give in to her. "What do you need, my good girl?" She manages between breaths, arousal thick in her voice, pumping herself inside you more purposefully. Not quite hard. But not as feathery and delicate as she was before.

"I... harder... please.." You say breathless, surprised by your own words.

Shadowheart chuckles slightly and breathlessly but obliges as she grips your hips and fucks herself into you. Not too hard, though, to your surprise. She watches you, assessing if she's hurting you. She wants you both to enjoy this, to look back on this lovemaking fondly, the one that will bless you with her child.

You moan as she settles into the slightly harder rhythm, it's just the right amount and it feels good to be so full of her, how her shaft drags through your channel, how your walls cling to it.... to be filled by her again and again by her.

You keep the eye contact steady and put your hands behind her neck, lightly, carefully pulling her closer. You can feel her grip on your hips tightening as her thrusts become less controlled and composed. The moment is drawing near, and she clearly has no serious intent of drawing it out.

Excitement twinkles in her eyes as the implication almost tangibly races in her mind. "So close, love... Oh so close, and you will be mine... body and soul... all mine..." she grunts, her nails digging into your skin.

The haze of the lovemaking, how she fills your every sense, makes you oblivious to the darker implication behind her words, to her intent on making you carry her spawn. It's almost like the Dark Justiciar isn't the only one excited by the prospect, the dark corners of the room seem to be as well as shadowy tendrils seem to reach for you, seeking to engulf you in their embrace as it gradually gets darker. You're oblivious to this as well, having given into her.

Shadowheart's thrusts slow down but maintain their force and depth. "You're going to... be so... beautiful." She manages between groans as she fucks herself rough and deep into you. "Swollen..." she says and with one hard thrust she buries herself to the hilt inside you, stretching you to the limit around her cock.

Then you feel her. A wave of her warmth floods deep inside you, more than it ever has. Perhaps you're imagining it but you can almost feel the difference this time. Sense its intent to nestle deep inside your fertile womb. "And mine..." Shadowheart hisses through her teeth as she bucks her hips slowly, intent to secure every drop of her seed deep within you.

Every word leaving her lips, every thrust of her hips, is bringing your orgasm closer. You come helplessly after she hisses "Mine" and spears you to the hilt, your channel clenching around her cock and milking every drop into your depths, into your womb.

And as she holds her eyes on you, you have no doubt that this time she's succeeded...

Your body will bear her child...

Your womb and her seed will be growing an army of devoted servants of darkness in the name of Shar. 

Daughters of darkness. 

Sired by Shar's chosen. Born in the darkness of Shar’s holy place. The gathering shadows slither around the darkened room, sharing her excitement.

As the haze of pleasure fades and your mind is clearer again, you look at her with your eyes wide open, the reality of what just happened and what will happen to you hitting you hard.

Shadowheart leans down and presses a sweet, loving kiss to your lips. Moaning into your mouth as her tongue slides in. Only pulling away from the kiss to adjust your hips together, lifting your legs and holding herself inside you. Ensuring her seed not only stays inside you longer, but seeps deeper inside you. "That's it, my breedable little slut... let it settle inside you awhile."

When you slowly come to your senses, you realize what she's doing: making sure her seed is taking root inside you. The reality of the situation makes you panic again and you start to instinctively struggle, trying to get your legs free and dislodge her from inside of you, but it's all in vain.

Shadowheart tsk's and shakes her head. Your struggling barely seems to faze her. Holding you still effortlessly with her muscular arms. "My love, now's not the time to be silly. We can both feel your womb eagerly seeking my seed. Your body is obediently preparing itself for my child..." She moves a hand to stroke your cheek.

"So no more games, love... If you like, you can play hard to get with me after our... daughter is born. Yes. A girl. We'll have a little girl..."she murmurs softly, smiling warmly at the thought. Whether intentional or not, she lifts your hips even higher after it crosses her mind. You think you can feel her come pooling inside you.

Her strength and words make you give in again and you lay exhausted and compliant under her. You're trying to even your breathing and calm down, knowing that annoying her isn't wise, especially after you had just gotten to her good side.

The shadows dance in eerie harmony, their inky tendrils reaching out to embrace your vulnerable presence. You remain unaware of their insidious infiltration, as they slither through every crevice of your being. Their whispers echo in your mind, amplifying the twisted notions that sway your thoughts, pushing you to the brink of surrender.

A darkness settles behind your eyes, dimming your inner light.

You put your hand carefully on hers as she strokes your cheek. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," you say submissively, looking into her eyes, offering her apologetic smile, "I am yours, now and always. It will be an honor to carry your child. Our daughter." You say, lying there with her seed deep inside you, thoughts of escape leaving your mind.

You belong to her wholly.

The shadows reward you with pleasurable shivers across your skin at the thought, caressing you all over.

Shadowheart smiles and shushes you, thumbing your cheek. "Hush, my darling. Rest now. You and our little lady will need all the rest you can get..." she purrs softly as she gently sets your legs down and very slowly draws her hips back and her softened cock out of you.

Rather than lay down beside you, she finds her trousers and slides them on before wrapping you in a blanket and lifting you into her arms. Carrying you to the door and into your new life...