#all they can see is tiny red heads
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keferon · 12 days ago
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Deadlock: “Hey, officer smartass, have you figured out a way to tell all the orange squishes apart?”
Prowl: “Yes, I have two methods of identification. The first is a spreadsheet cross referencing individual characteristics to correctly ID each human.”
Deadlock: “Example?”
Prowl: “I’ve organized all four into two intersecting categories: broad vs narrow builds and the presence or absence of a visor. For example, both Swerve and Ratchet have broad builds, and both Swerve and First Aid wear visors. Therefore, the human with both a visor and a broad build must be Swerve.”
Deadlock: “Clever. So what do you do if Swerve takes of their visor or if First Aid wears a really big coat?”
Prowl: “Then I refer to the second method of identification.”
Deadlock: “Which is?”
Prowl: “Ask Jazz.”
LMAO
Jazz: You guys really don’t see the difference between them??
Prowl: Let me show you something
Prowl: Holds Jazz up to Cybertronian eye level
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the-mononoke-facade · 4 months ago
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One of these days I'm going to figure out when 瞳 (hitomi) is supposed to be referring to someone's eyes and when it's supposed to be referring to someone's pupils, because slitted/narrowed eyes and slitted pupils have two different connotations, did you narrow your eyes or do you have cat eyes? This is important information okay
#adventures in japanese#目 is usually the go to for eyes#but then 頭 is a go to for head and i often see it used interchangably with 首#even though 首 can also be neck#and im sure there's a subtlety of the language as far as the difference between all these words goes that i just don't have a sense for#and for things like whether you're talking about someone's head or neck the context makes that one clear enough#but someone's eye or someone's pupils?#usually the context clears this up too#but not here#shu actually used this 切れ長の瞳 (kirenaga no hitomi) description for kusu too#and i wasnt sure then if it was talking about eyes or pupils then either#its a small detail but it's annoying#like i would say ri kusu has narrowed/slitted eyes in a way kon doesn't right?#but neither one of them has slitted pupils so its a small detail but it's another one that could go onto the red string cork board of#'is this novel kusu a kusu weve seen elsewhere or not'#(of course ive been leaning more and more into the grand unified kusuriuri idea lately of them all either being extensions of one dude#(or all 64 of them are the same guy reincarnating 64 times/traversing all the hexagrams inching closer to enlightenment with each#(but even then it still doesn't answer the question of which hexagram we'd be on at this point#(...or if hideyuki had any access to the whole 64 sword lore stuff lol)#ah anyway im getting too caught up on teeny tiny details and probably missing the obvious shit again dont mind me lol
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beeholyshit · 10 months ago
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I'm so emotional rn
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bonemeal12 · 6 months ago
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Dick and Tim playing Ticket to Ride… in my Mind Palace… my special inner world…
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demigod-of-the-agni · 8 months ago
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The year is 20X1, 23 years since Polaris and Sigma Octantis were last sighted at the celestial poles. Intrinsic expansion of space has increased dramatically over the past few decades, leaving our bubble of the observable universe awash with infinite darkness, the light of every star beyond our reach. If you are lucky, you might catch a glimpse of the rings that now circle above us, accompanying networking satellites and casting a glow brighter than our moon. The shattered bones of Tara Devi, numen of stars, now orbit us in place of the long-gone celestial bodies. If you catch sight of her face, do not fear; simply return home and go back to sleep, and if possible, ignore the pleading that may accompany you.
by Dhruva V. | 29 April 20X1 Broadcast: Sundered Skies
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kavehater · 1 month ago
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I’ve been teaching my sister how to play Genshin for some of the past hours today and I hope she quits bc now I feel really guilty about it I don’t want her to waste all her time on it and Im thinking abt why she even wanted to start the game and now I feel even more horrible bc of some reasons that I kinda feel guilty explaining
#dora daily#idk how to tell her maybe she should focus on other things and games#I don’t know I’m overthinking bc everything rn is such a mess and my heart hurt so bad earlier and I felt like throwing up and stuff idk#what to do#everything is somehow going worse and worse it feels like it’s snowballing out of control but it’s because why is everyone so mean to me#like all I have ever wanted is just to be seen but I’m always invisible to everyone and people OFTEN tell me they forget abt me so many#times that it’s more often they forget me than remember#why am I so forgettable and why do I get replaced like idk what’s wrong with me#what’s so horrible abt my personality I don’t understand like is it the way I think ? I think it’s the way I think#but I can’t change how my brain is wired or how it functions I just don’t know how to fix it#I swear I’ve tried everything for years and years I’ve spent since my very early years trying to find out what’s wrong with me and why#it’s so hard for ppl to like me I’ve tried to change everything it doesn’t work and only six months ago I found out why people don’t like me#just by trial and error#it’s my brain and the way I think it’s just all wrong idk how I’m meant to think but it’s not meant to be like this#my personality is all wrong my likes are all wrong my thinking and everything is all wrong and I’m stuck like this unless I somehow do#some surgery on my brain to fix how I think I’ll be like this forever#I wish I could just fold myself up into a little version of myself and just put it away to take up the least amount of space in this world#I’ll never belong in this world and I don’t want to be here anymore#shoot I can barely even see the text on my keyboard bc I just can’t stop crying#I always said my parents should’ve never gotten married they were never a match my mum should’ve gotten an abortion when she found out like#she never even liked my dad anyways#fuck how do I stop crying my mum is gonna be here soon and she’s gonna start laughing at me like she usually does when I tear up I’m#straight up bawling LOL imagine she sees that I’ll be made a mockery more than I already am this is so humiliating and pathetic. why do I#care sm now I’ve never wanted to be alive but now I’m so sad because I really don’t want to be here anymore but I don’t know what to do#my head hurts now maybe I should go to sleep maybe it’ll help me forget about this at least for a while longer#I’m just so sad I have to manually ask ppl to care about me I’m so tired I have to do this with everyone#I’m not even angry anymore I’m just so sad I’m sad that others get that care like it’s second nature but with me I have to ask and beg forit#oh ik if my mum sees I���ll just tell her I’ve been itching my eyes if she asks why they’re red LOL#It’s okay if nobodyll ever like me like I like them right ? I don’t have to get liked back as long as I give love to others right ? then I#won’t be useless like my mum says I am at least I can have a tiny bit of use even though my love means absolutely nothing I bet it’s okay iv
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lokissweater · 4 months ago
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you noticed me ⚾︎
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{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}
summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back�� but he does, and bad.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.
word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)
authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!
want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.
and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?
there he was in all of his emo glory.
number eighteen.
focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.
“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.
“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”
you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.
“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.
your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”
you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.
“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”
“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”
she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”
“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”
she snorted. “are you sure?!”
you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.
you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”
“suit yourself!”
a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.
she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.
“i told yuji.”
you blinked. “told him what?”
“that you like fushiguro.”
“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”
“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”
“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”
your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”
you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”
“megumi also played really well today.”
“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.
“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”
“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.
he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”
you snorted, “elaborate please.”
yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.
“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.
your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”
“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”
“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.
yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”
“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”
he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”
you stared blankly.
“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”
you kept staring.
“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”
you blinked.
“y/n?”
“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”
your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”
“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”
“because your eyes are red.”
“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”
you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”
“y/n…” yuji trailed off.
“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”
and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.
it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?
this was the reality. you never stood a chance.
so why were you crying?
you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.
you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.
you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.
megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?
he never felt so out of reach.
“here.”
your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.
“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”
the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.
but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.
“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”
“for what.”
you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.
not that you could even see in the first place.
“for looking like a loser.”
the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”
you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.
“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”
“that’s the point,” he hums.
“how come?”
“i get migraines everyday. they help.”
“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”
you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”
you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”
“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”
you snickered, “what? loserrr.”
you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.
“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”
you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.
“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”
you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.
“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.
“why is that.”
“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”
the stranger man stopped.
“…why?”
“because he indirectly broke my heart.”
you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.
at least someone is having fun right now.
“how did he indirectly break your heart?”
“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”
“did he?”
“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”
the stranger man hummed.
“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”
“why do you like him?”
“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.
you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”
you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”
you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”
the stranger man laughed a little.
“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”
“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”
you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”
you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”
“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.
“yup.”
the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”
“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.
it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.
“i’m sorry i made you cry.”
you jumped back.
“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”
you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.
and when they did?
megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.
your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.
“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.
you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.
his smile widened.
oh my god.
megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.
but he was smiling.
“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”
“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.
“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”
he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.
“you don’t have to do that.”
“yes i do—”
“you don’t have to forget me either.”
“that i definitely do—”
you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.
“hold on y/n—”
megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.
y/n?
you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.
“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.
“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”
you nodded, eyes blank.
“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.
oh.
oh that’s right.
you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.
“oh.”
he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.
“dummy.”
“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.
his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”
megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.
you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.
cute.
“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”
“do you have a ride home?”
you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”
he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.
he paused and looked over his shoulder.
“you coming?”
your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”
he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”
“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”
he stared lazily.
“come.”
you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.
megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.
you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.
his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.
megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—
he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.
“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.
megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.
“can you put your address in—”
“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”
you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.
forty fucking minutes.
“megumi..”
his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.
“hm?”
“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”
you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”
“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.
“i’ll jump out.”
he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.
“i have child lock on.”
“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”
“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”
you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”
he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.
“what do you do?”
you fidgeted. “h—huh?”
“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”
he’s asking you?
“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”
he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”
you grimaced.
do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?
you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”
he raised an eyebrow.
“i— don’t?”
he cocked his head. “you don’t?”
you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.
“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”
you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”
you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”
he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.
you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.
megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.
you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.
“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.
your eyebrows furrowed.
he was still thinking about that?
you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”
he huffed out a laugh.
megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.
well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.
megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.
you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.
“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”
he shook his head. “it’s alright.”
you went in to close the door.
“y/n.”
you leaned back down, “yeah?”
“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.
“i— i don’t think so.”
“good.”
megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.
“i’ll see you then.”
as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.
the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.
as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.
once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.
he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.
“who are you waving at?”
your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.
“who is- fushiguro?!”
you looked at her sheepishly.
as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.
“i have to tell yuji—”
“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”
“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”
“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”
“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.
that’s how it went for about a month.
you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.
but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.
but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.
when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.
“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”
“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”
“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”
“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.
“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”
she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”
you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.
“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”
she nodded eagerly.
“i swear!”
so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.
you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.
finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.
“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”
“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.
your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.
“hi.”
you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
you gulped.
“h—hi.”
“i didn’t think you’d come.”
he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.
“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”
he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.
“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”
you faltered.
he noticed that?
“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”
for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.
“are you—”
“fushiguro!”
you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.
“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”
megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.
the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.
“hi! i’m takuma!”
you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”
“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”
you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.
at his own banquet.
“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”
takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”
you nodded, “mhm!”
the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.
you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.
“is anyone sitting here?”
“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”
“take mine ino.”
megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”
huh?
“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”
he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.
and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.
“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”
“mhm.”
your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.
the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.
your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.
he stared at your enamored look.
“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.
but he did.
“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.
your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”
megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.
“here.”
your eyes traveled down.
“what?”
“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.
shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”
megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.
“i have four others. it’s fine.”
“no but—”
he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.
yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.
your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.
“t—thank you gumi…”
his lips twitched.
you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.
and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.
megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.
“they met at a party didn’t they?”
you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”
he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”
your jaw dropped. “you were?!”
he nodded. “and i remember you too.”
you sat there in silence.
how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?
before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.
you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”
he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”
“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”
megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”
your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”
he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”
“don’t be sorry gumi…”
you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.
but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.
“do you want to leave?”
he turned his head to the side and looked at you.
“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”
you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.
“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”
he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.
your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”
you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.
“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”
you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”
“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.
“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.
“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”
your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”
“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”
“y/n!”
you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”
“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”
“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”
“i can definitely see why!”
he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”
yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.
“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”
“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”
“i don’t know!”
“well call megumi over—”
suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.
“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”
yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.
“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.
megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.
“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”
you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.
he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”
“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.
you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.
you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.
the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.
you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.
“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.
“me neither.”
“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.
“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”
you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”
the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.
“it’s okay. i trust you.”
you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.
“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.
your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”
he hummed, “how come?”
“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”
“i have a sweet tooth.”
your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”
“you’re not?”
“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”
megumi liked how much you talked.
“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.
you nodded. “have you?”
“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”
met his dad?
megumi spotted your confusion and continued.
“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”
your eyes softened.
“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”
“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.
he nodded. “i do.”
he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”
you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.
“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.
“i love it.”
you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.
“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”
he nodded.
“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”
“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”
you giggled.
“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”
you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”
you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”
megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.
“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.
everyone thinks he’s rude.
your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”
he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”
you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”
you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.
you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.
“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.
megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.
“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.
his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.
you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.
your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.
and then you pulled away with a wet pop.
“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”
what?
megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.
he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”
“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”
megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”
“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.
megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.
“y/n.”
you stopped. “what.”
he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”
“helpless and a creep.”
he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”
he stood and offered his hand out for you.
“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”
megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.
you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.
you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.
you kissed megumi fushiguro.
“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”
“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”
your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”
“that was for stability! he—”
“no it was to feel you up!”
you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”
“y/nnnn!”
as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—
and he couldn’t find you.
this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.
except you never did.
and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.
“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.
“hi.”
he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”
megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”
she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”
“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”
“because—” she stammered. “well because—”
“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.
“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.
“i don’t know!”
“let’s just tell him!”
“but what if!—”
megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”
your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.
“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.
“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.
so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.
and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—
but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.
and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.
and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?
and it was all because of you, you realized.
you made him upset.
you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.
“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”
“i can take a wild guess.”
she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”
she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.
most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.
just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.
“y/n.”
you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.
megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.
“h—hi-”
“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”
your eyebrows furrowed.
“what?”
megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”
he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”
your eyes bulge out of their sockets.
fall?
“you what?—”
“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.
“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”
you fidgeted.
“i— i was doing it for you—”
“why for me? i never said—”
the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.
“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”
“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”
“no but—”
“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”
“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.
“so?”
“and i’m a loser.”
he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.
“no you’re not you big dummy.”
he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.
“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”
he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.
“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”
he nodded, head still hung.
“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”
“way fucking more,” he mumbled.
you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.
you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.
“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.
“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.
“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”
he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”
he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.
“you’re so dense y/n…”
megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”
“the party?” you murmured.
he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”
your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.
since the party?
it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.
you were so fucking stupid.
your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.
“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”
you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.
“don’t be.”
“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”
“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”
you held him tighter.
“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.
“hm?”
“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”
megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.
he gripped you tighter.
“did you?”
you nodded, “mhm.”
megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.
“what else do you like.”
you gripped the fabric of his uniform.
“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”
your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.
“what else.”
“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”
“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.
“more than anything.”
“what else do you like?”
you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”
he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”
you nodded, your heart hammering.
he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.
“you wanna see what else i can do?”
“what— what else?”
megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.
“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”
he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.
“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”
“i don’t fucking care.”
megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.
he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.
you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.
“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”
“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.
“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”
“g—gumi—”
“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.
the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.
“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.
if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?
they’d drop dead.
without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.
megumi was freaky.
your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.
“is— is everybody gone?”
“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.
“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”
he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”
you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.
he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.
“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.
you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”
“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”
“m—maybe in high school?—”
megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.
“thought you liked me.”
“i do!” you sputtered.
“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”
your hole clenched.
“that— that was before you!”
he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.
“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.
“and what about takuma, hm?”
you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”
“mhm. he was all over you.”
you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.
“i—”
“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”
he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.
your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.
“would you?”
“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”
“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”
“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”
“just me?”
megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.
“y—yes!”
he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.
“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”
“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”
he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.
“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”
“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.
you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.
you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.
“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”
your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.
“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”
megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.
you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.
megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.
he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.
“put these on baby,” he murmured.
you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.
“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.
he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.
“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”
“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”
megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.
“and so are you.”
and that you were.
you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.
your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.
“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”
he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.
the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.
without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.
one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.
megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.
but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?
megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.
————————————————————————
want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!
21K notes · View notes
tonycries · 30 days ago
Text
DDD
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Synopsis. What’s destroyed on Destroy D!ck December? Him.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, heavy overstím, creampíes, BRÉEDING, cúmplay, pússydrunk men, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, powers going haywire, matíng press, making them cry, bondagé (Nanami), GOJO’S POWERS, mánhandling, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s mouths, p talking, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 6.1k
A/N. Hope you all have a lovely December <3
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♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd Dec. 5:46AM
It’s around this time that Toji Fushiguro loses count - loses his damn mind. 
Gasping- heaving back every tiny whimper when his ruby red tip plants sopping wet smacks right down your tender folds. Gushing out generous helpings of pearly white that slip and slide all the way down.
And it hasn’t been once. Oh, it hasn’t even been twice. 
Dozens upon dozens of times - for hours now - Toji was collapsing his big, beefy limbs down into yours in the messiest mating press. With a dragged-out groan, he’s smearing his thumb down the edges of your treacling slit, popping it into his mouth eagerly. 
“Heh- jus’ look at her all overflowin’ f’me.” Toji’s rasping - voice so shot he could barely even breathe. And you wonder if he even realizes he’s babbling this way. “S’that oh- s’that twenty-three, yet?” 
It better not be.
Toji refuses to let it be. 
“C-can feel it coming again-” he’s choking out a ragged whine. How embarrassing. Thick fingers curling around your throat to squeeze, “-can hah- can I- inside again…please, doll.”
It’s as if on some slutty autopilot that you let his massive, calloused palms glide down your thighs and push. The way his bulging biceps flex with strain makes your mouth water - all bulging and covered in a thin sheen of sweat that smears against yours. 
He was out of control. Out of his sanity.
And just one peak down at the creamy ring your cunt was coating around his hefty hilt was enough for Toji to throw his head back with a moan of your name.
Destroyed. 
With a fatigued shiver, he’s spearheading his fat head into you until you see white, dragging a drippingly wet swipe of steaming hot precum all over your cushiony sweet spots.. 
Whispering, “Shit- what ya do to me- s-squeeze me- squeeze me with that pretty pussy jus’ once.” Racking out a bout of violent shivers down the entirety of his hulking body when your sloppy walls give his girth a tight little clench. 
And that’s all it takes for Toji to cum.
All it takes for his sensitive cock to bawl out in stringy wads of seed that splatter right into the bottom of your pussy, pumping you full. Toji falls tiredly onto his elbows with a sudden hiss at the stinging thwack! of his twitchy balls sticking to your skin. 
“O-oh yeah- that’s twenty-two- milk me- milk me, doll.” And it feels so good that it’s almost painful, stars bursting over and over behind his teary lids when his own seed sloshes a white gloss down every delicate ridge and vein of his. “Heheh- takin’ m-me so well-  jus’ one more right? We’re almost there-”
But he’s already lost count.
And Toji doesn’t care - he doesn’t even give a shit.
The way your puffy pussy lips were sucking up his cock was like a sheer miracle after the long, treacherous task of November. Tch- who even came up with such a thing as no nutting? Though, he couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t like the idea of December…
Yeah, he was going to fill his girl’s needy lil’ pussy with his cum again and again until he reaches his mark of twenty-three even if it kills him. And he could die a happy death right between these jittery legs of yours. 
You whine, grappling towards the thudding headboard that was now indenting your poor wall. You didn’t know how the hell he was still going. “B-but are you sure you can, baby? Don’t know if it’ll f-fit-”
“Oh- don’t speak so f-filthy ta me with that sweet mouth, ma.” 
“But Toji—”
Toji juts his scarred lips out in what you swear was almost a pout. He’s squeezing your delicate neck warningly, other hand pushing down on your tummy to make your sloppy entrance gush out in milky white dredges. Strangling out, “See? A-all you hafta ta do is shut up and take my fuckin’ cock- take my cum.” And he’s so lazy, all dripping with sweat and sheer sex when Toji slides his cheek down your own like an animal. “My pretty girl can ngh- d-do that f’me, right?”
It was so rare that you get to see the great Toji Fushiguro like this. 
So drunk on the power and the way he was kissing up French peck after peck against your g-spot that it makes you smile. “O-only if you hngh- beg.”
“Doll…”
“Beg.”
Truly, you imagined that Toji would roll his greedy green eyes- shit, were those tears in them? at you and simply snicker. 
What you didn’t expect was for him to grunt, before dragging you with the vice-like grip on your neck to meet his smacking sharp hips. Down, down, down- 
“Tch.” he’s grumbling, condensed breath feverish on your face. Sharp jaw clenching almost painfully - but not as painfully as the way his thick cock was swollen so rock-hard. Needy. Desperate. “M’begging you, ma- please l-let me cum- inside this cute cunt.”
You can only nod - nod and nod when his weepy tip plants pound after pound on your thoroughly bruised cervix. 
“Atta girl.”
And with a slight swat! from the rounded edges of his fat digits down onto your pulsing clit - you don’t know who’s cumming first. 
So hot and blissful. It’s like you were floating in heaven when Toji wrangles your body down flat onto the sheets and cums. Cumming and cumming yet- his utterly dazed eyes snap open, nothing was coming out.
“Shit-” Toji guides his free hand to wrap around his fat reddened base. Pumping up and down up and down up and- he half blacks out. “Fuck…c-completely ruined me, ma.” And the only thing that Toji can let loose is a few thick beads of his seed that dot your precious sweet spots. 
But he wasn’t having that.
In an instant, you’re being jostled with every ounce of strength in his large body. Straddling Toji’s slender hips, you’re collapsing to rub down his washboard abs. And he only grins, he only lolls his head drunkenly into the plush pillows. 
Overstimulated cock twitching ferally against your elastic walls as he still keeps cumming dry, he didn’t know if he could make it…“That- ngh- doesn’t count. So why dontcha ride me to t-twenty-three, doll?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 16th Dec. 7:30PM
“Don’t run.” Nanami keens brokenly at the back of his throat. More. He needs more. “Please d-don’t run don’t run, my love-” 
And if it wasn’t for that velvety yellow tie binding his strong arms behind his back, they would be wrapping around your arched body so tight until you were sure your husband never wanted to let go. It’s all that Nanami can do to jump his thighs up higher to glissade your pretty pussy down his girthy shaft.
You’re whining out a little, “C-can’t help it, Kento- you’re jus’ filling me up so much-”
God, the ever-sensible Nanami Kento was so ruined by now. 
So utterly pussydrunk that even the mere sound of your honeyed tone complimenting him is enough to have him rutting his flushed cockhead to nudge deeper and deeper into your gooey walls. You were riding him so languidly, spreading open your insides on just the curve. 
More more more more-
“D-don’t say that—” he all but cries in a deep whine over the syrupy squelch after smooching squelch. Sweat-slicked face pushing into the tender crook of your neck, “-I m-might cum from jus’ that, darling. S’wasted- n-need to fuck a baby into ya, remember?”
With a drunkenly smug daze smeared across your face, you’re cushioning your hands all over his heaving chest. Muscled. Rugged. Peaking your trembly fingers across his bulging pecs, “That would be the ngh- sixteenth time, right, Ken? And in your office, too- so dirty~”
It was so fun to tease your dear Nanami.
To watch his drooping glasses fog up with heady condensation, to watch his high cheekbones blush into something innocently rosy. Stern mouth slack with awe when you glide the fat of your thumb across its corner to swipe away his translucent trail of overstimulated drool. 
Sensitive. Shit, so sensitive.
And you’re hearing miniscule rips! when he pulls against the tie - the only thing keeping Nanami from tattering it into a million pieces was your wish to tie your handsome husband up.
“B-but how could I not?” he hisses, genuinely floored. You feel yourself be bounced through the sheer strength in his toned core. Atoms stand on end with jujutsu - his technique. Your g-spot is battered. Up and down up and down up and- “Y-you’re just so perfect n’ pretty ngh- a-and oh I can’t stay away from this pretty cunt–”
Nanami’s head lolls pussydrunkenly with every squelching shove into your tight channel. He’s opening up every sweet nook and cranny inside you, mashing into that magical spot. 
“My pretty girl- gonna make such a pretty momma. Y-you just feel so oh-” Words are failing him. And with a shuddering gulp he dares look down at the way your cunt was drenching him in milky wave after wave of cum. Breeding you. Breathing out, “-this might jus’ be heaven.”
And heaven it was.
“Aw, you’re so ngh- sweet, Ken– s’this from how long ya had to wait in November?” He’s so pretty. Your fingers caress over the big, fat tears welling their way up in his half-lidded eyes. Planting a salty peck against his wobbly lips, “Love you–”
“I love you, too-” Nanami breathes - he whimpers. “Love you love you love you- ngh- m’never participating in that goddamn No Nut November again. S-sixteen’s not ‘nough- s’never gonna e-enough-”
And Nanami didn’t even know if he could make it to sixteen.
Because his hefty balls were jostling against your ass so harshly, every press of your ass down his tight, cum-filled sack making him spurt out a few wispy sputters of cum. Sloshing your cozy insides- But it didn’t count - no, it didn’t count unless he had you overspilling. 
“O-overspilling?” you giggle- shit, did he say that out loud? “Ken- are you ser-”
SLAM!
Desperation bleeds into his movement. Into his breaths. Into every single stroke of his sloppy cock when Nanami wrenches his hands free from the restraint in a split-second. 
A single split-second is all it takes for him to bully your pliant body down on his desk in one, fluid motion.
In control now.
Well, as in control as he could be when he was fucking losing it.
The desk rattles with every pound he’s gifting your poor, battered g-spot. Over and over- shit, it was so scarily accurate that it left you reeling about whether Nanami was using his ratio technique - did he even realize. 
Slam! 
Nanami’s arm shudders down onto the rustling papers that he definitely should’ve been working on instead. And you bolt at the sudden cinch of atoms - yeah, definitely his technique. “M’serious- ngh oh- I’ve never been more serious in m’life, my love-” Hunching over now, you could admire the way his back muscles popped and flexed with every rough jackhammer. 
“So pretty and-” Words choking into tiny moans at the back of his throat, “-and mine.”
As soon as Nanami’s thick digits pop into his mouth, you feel his overwhelmed cock strike up a few electric jolts before cumming. Hot shaft swelling and throbbing with his pumping pulse, fucking your snug cunt full of syrupy oozes of cum. Your poor sweet spots - over and over, powers out of control. 
And so was Nanami.
Eyeing the creamy globs spittling down the side of your slit, he’s smearing open your swollen pussy folds with a few thick fingers, making you flinch at the cool touch of his wedding ring.  Greedily scooping them up into his mouth to spit. Right onto your very tastebuds, before dragging you into a filthy, filthy mess of a kiss. 
“Ngh- gonna marry ya- have all round and glowing.” he’s panting against your open mouth. “Gonna- sh-shit gonna make you my wife-”
You’re letting off a few sweet moans every time he’s clashing wetly against your-spot. “I am your wife, Kento-”
Five words. 
Only five words does it take for Nanami to halt in his tracks. For him to strain out a crazed, “E-even better…”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 11th Dec. 2:28AM
“What was that?”
“Suguru-”
He’s shutting you up promptly with a swift smack! right onto the edge of your plump clit, fingers lingering to smear over those excess dredges of cum from just before. 
They have you weakening on all fours. 
They have you making such a fucking mess. 
And you hear Geto shudder in a shrill breath at the sight of your drooling cunt dripping all down his wrist, you hear him clear his rasping throat of a few traitorous whimpers. Oh, it takes everything in him to pretend he wasn’t as fucking ruined as he was. “Letting it drip a-all out of your slutty pussy, d-didn’t I tell ya to ngh- take all eleven, gorgeous?” 
It’s a trick question.. 
And Geto isn’t waiting for an answer, Geto can barely even hear you through the thundering of his own furious pulse in his ears. Ringing and making him so dizzy- 
With one hand kneading down on the arch of your back, his hips pummel into you thoroughly, shoving your squirming hips back down onto the silken sheets. Rotund, pinkish head feeding into all your sweetest spots without even trying.
“Mhmmm–” he’s letting his head loll back to swipe a few greedy digits over the creamy ring at his hilt - plugging them easily back into your overly stuffed pussy. Slender and swirling all around the outer edges of his fat cock. With the other he pretends to count, “-nine, ten eleven- sure did. S-so that ah- eleventh one didn’t count, riiiight?”
And you just about only have the strength to gasp, “D-doesn’t count?”
“Nuh uh, doesn’t count.”
Thwacking a stinging smack! right onto the jiggling flesh of your ass, Geto only pushes and pushes and reels out peak after peak of white-hot pleasure with every pound. Grinning when your slack-jawed lips gasp in lewd awe to mewl, “Th-then- ah! I w-want it all in this time. No teasing, Sugu–”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit - he really underestimated how much a lil’ minx his girl was.
Because that makes Geto let out a heavy gasp, it makes his dewey deep eyes pop out almost dramatically. Sweeping one hand through his long, curtaining bangs to get a better scope of your jittery body. All splayed out and so prettily fucked underneath him.
Beautiful. So, so beautiful and- oh, he was more drunk on your pussy than he thought. 
“Oh, p-pretty girl–” His lips smear up your sweat-glistening spine in a trail of kisses. Up, up, up to press a saccharine sweet peck onto your cheek. “Heh, how could I not?”
And you swear Geto’s melodic voice cracked into something desperate at the end -almost as if it was…a whine.
But you don’t get to confirm, not before with a rippling thud! you’re feeling something heavy rest itself on your head. Whirling your bleary eyes as much as you could to take in what was Geto’s foot - so rudely positioned upon your body to shovel himself even deeper into your plushy cunt.
It felt too damn good.
And, fuck, Geto was angry at himself for the way he was letting big, overstimulated tears well up in his eyes with every pretty peck into your sopping wet cervix. Fucking you like an animal. With every wet swipe right at the bottom of your cunt- 
“S-Sugu-” you’re babbling out, heart stuttering at the feeling of something wet drizzling down heatedly onto your shoulder. “Are you cry-”
“No.”
Yes.
Because Geto was so sensitive. So stimulated. Every sodden crash into your tight pussy had stars bursting behind Geto’s eyes, throat ragged raw with a sudden keen. “M-m’not cryin’ s’just- fuuuck- yer a real troublemaker, aren’t ya?” 
It takes a few sloppy seconds before you realize with a jolt that Geto isn’t talking to you - no, he had his flaming eyes downturned to look at your bulging cunt. To salivate over the way your puffy folds were greedily drenching all his staggering inches. 
And he’s talking to her, nodding all to every honeyed squelch! that makes your ears burn.
“Right right–” Geto cups one of you jiggling tits with his massive palms. Kneading. Squeezing. “-sh-she is gorgeous-” Pressing a too-sweet smooch by your sweat-dampened forehead, “-my gorgeous girl…hehh- you knew what would oh- h-happen when you told me about this challenge, right?”
“Know what, Suguru?” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him grit through a shudder. Evil, evil tricks you had. 
But whatever you could do - Geto Suguru could, too, ten times worse. 
Which is why he’s slamming into you so fast that you’re finding yourself almost thrown into the jittering headboard. Bolting fast. Hard. 
Curling a few fingers around your neck to bounce you back into his sharp hipbones, “Where do you think you’re r-running away? Don’t run away–”
You weren’t. 
But Geto sounded so genuinely upset, so genuinely in disbelief. His cheeks hollowing when he sucks in a sudden breath and rummages at your melty insides so good. Planting tiny pinches to your clit like it was going to make you forget the pearly, splattering tears into your shoulder. Yet, with the way that Geto was fucking you positively stupid then you think you just might. 
Geto’s curling his deft fingers inside to sneak across your sweetened spots, around and around before swiping the remnant dredges of cum across his pre-glossed lips. 
“K-kiss me, gorgeous.” He tastes like honey. Hot. Voice practically a roughened growl at this point. “G-gonna take it all, aren’t ya? Gonna fill this pretty p-pussy up with my cum- ngh- gonna have it s-so everyone knows what I did- ah- so they know-”
And no matter how composed Geto pretended to be - you could hear the tiny whimpers curling at the back of his throat, the grumbling ah! ah! ah! at every thrust. 
He’s babbling, drunken and you don’t even think he remembers a thing about the challenge anymore. “M’gonna get ya pregnant, doll…”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8th Dec. 6:45PM
“B-baby-” Choso’s voice is so warm - so broken. Sobbing. He’s gifting your ankle with an innocent peck, “Baby let me s-see your pretty face- p-please look my way–”
“M’already here…” With a slightly syrupy giggle you press a gentle kiss against Choso’s sweat-streaked forehead. “Let it out- let it alll out, Cho-”
That forgotten movie plays over and over in the background when with a flinching shudder, Choso cums. Wrangling your limp body to him so tight that you’re feeling every tiny flex of his washboard abs, every sweaty glissade of his muscular thighs kneeing apart yours. 
“O-oh–” Choso hisses out the tiniest of whimpers against your skin with every splat! of cozy rivers of cum down your snug cunt. “M-move that pretty hand- move it for me-”
Gently shoving away the overwhelmed hand on your bulging cunt, he’s pulling out his achy cock from your entrance. Making such a mess on your poor couch. “Oh.”
And Choso doesn’t say anything more - not a word. 
He can’t.
Not even a peep while he’s fixating his widened eyes down on the way your inner thighs were drooling all over with waves of his own cum. So full. And he gulps. 
You’re running your fingers through his silky soft strands, “All done, baby?”
And Choso only jolts his entire muscular body on top of you as if the thought never even crossed his mind. Sheer panic bleeding into those pussy drunken eyes of his when they widen and bore down into yours, “A-actually that’s not- ngh- that’s-”
Shit, he couldn’t even explain himself right now. Because Choso didn’t have to say anything - he was already moving.
Head throwing back when his hips push back downwards in a wet little grind - experimental. Just the singular clench of your elastic walls around his length in a perfectly cozy hug makes him throw his head back with a whimper. So sensitive. ���I’m sorry, baby I- I can’t stop.”
It didn’t matter what day it was today. It didn’t matter exactly how many times Choso had pumped your pretty pussy full of his voluminous cum. Because it was never enough. 
Never will be enough.
He was too addicted to the way his own warm cum was sloshing around your gooey insides, making such a filthy slurping gloss that practically speaks to him. Your pussy was extra talkative today, slurring out the most saturated squelches! whenever he’s diving his fat cockhead past your entrance. 
“Wh-what is it? The ngh- eight?” Meshing a wet kiss over and over that magical g-spot - just the way he was with your pouty mouth. Lips wobbling as he begs, “I-I can c-cum inside again, right, baby? P-please–? Look I’ll even make room-”
And before you can utter a word, your dear, sweet boyfriend was plunging out. Accompanied by a few sopping wet slurps of his seed that waterfall freely and drizzle down his furiously reddened length. 
Choso bites his lip at the heavenly sight, holding back a grin that curls down the sides of his rosy red mouth. Oh, this was so not just about “making room.”
Something that makes you hum, “Well then-” And as soon as you’re smearing your legs open even wider, Choso gapes. Urgently pressing a thumb over his weepy divot to keep himself from cumming all over again. “-wontcha be a hngh good boy f’me, then?”
Choso nods - nods over and over when he fucks back through your gummy hole. Nods with every drawling babble that leaves his mouth, “G-gonna be your good boy, baby- gonna cum inside- gonna let me, right? Promise I’ll m-make it to eight-”
Not to mind the fact that he already had. 
But he doesn’t care. Not a single ounce when your inflated walls were molding around him this way - like you were made for him.
“R-right here–” He’s trailing up the rounded curve of one thick index about halfway down your tummy, pressing down on the slight swollen nudge of where he could feel himself absolutely wrecking you. Wrecking himself. “-gonna be f-finishing the challenge riiiight here.”
“Yes yes yes-” you whine, hips bucking up to catch onto his sloppy cadence. It almost hurts just how hard he was fucking into you - dragging rawly all over your cunt, no sweetened spot left unbruised. “-cum inside- cum in me, Cho–”
“F-fuck-”
It’s a tiny whimper - broken. So utterly fucked-out when Choso crashes his lips onto your battered ones and sucks. 
And you think Choso is cumming - you feel Choso cumming. His hulking boy hunches, his strong arms bend you to his lewd will so hard you think you hear your joint creak. Positioning in the perfect angle to flood your insides with heap after sloshing heap of cum.
Once. Twice. 
Multiple orgasms clashing into each other before it tapers out into nothing and you’re feeling Choso’s bawling divot at the very ends of his tip cum dry. 
Only a few seconds later do you realize that those wet speckles crashing heatedly onto your cheeks are tears. And even later do you realize that Choso’s latched his rough fingers onto your overwhelmed clit to pinch. Rolling it so harshly that your fatigued body has no choice but to crash headfirst into your own orgasm.
Your nails draw red, red lines all the way down his pale, sculpted back. Honestly, Choso was so mean when he wanted to be. 
“Y-yeah? K-kiss gimme a kiss, baby–” He’s peeking up at you with practically gleaming eyes - and the syrupy sweet love swirling around was palpable. “Am I a good boy- ngh- d-does it feel good, baby–?”
And you can only nod right about now. Feeling so full inside that it was like his sickly sweet cum was barging into your womb. You gasp when his thickened cock slips out ever-so-slightly from your entrance, gumming out a wet trail of cum. Making Choso snap his head down and-
“Oh.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 28th Dec. 12:01AM
“Sooo…” Sukuna grumbles his hot breath to condense in a feverish puff against the side of your ear in such a mean full nelson. He’s practically laughing at you - chuckling in a drunkenly delirious way. “Think that lil’ human body of yours can give me a hah- twenty-eighth today?”
Hell, you didn’t think it was even possible to withstand such a stretch of his doubly swollen girths jostling around your snug channel. You didn’t think it was possible to last this long-
You’re baring him with a pretty, pretty pout that makes him tunnel his long hard cocks into you even harder. Faster. “O-of course I can-”
Heh…cute. Sukuna didn’t bother telling your proud self that it’d been the reversed curse technique that still kept your drooling cunt so needy without breaking a few bones. Yet. 
“Well, that mouth of yours says ya can- but this pretty pussy…” Trailing off, sharpened black nails trace over your cunt and make you shiver. As if that wasn’t enough - as if the squelching slurps emanating from where your cunt was being so tightly split-apart wasn’t enough - Sukuna manifests his second mouth on a smaller scale to give your pretty clit a long French kiss. “-she’s fuckin’ bratty, isn’t she?”
And he’s planting a staggering smack right onto the neglected bud of your clit. Swiping his heated tongue around and around in such a way that makes you buck-
Swat!
“Oi- keep that cunt still f’me or else…” Now, Sukuna didn’t have to try to ever sound threatening - but then again he never had to bite back such pathetic whimpers from the back of his throat. He never had to hold in his tired whines when your gummy walls stretch so rawly around his cocks. So unfairly good. “O-or else…fuuuck.”
You whirl your dazed eyes around with a sudden gasp - did Ryomen Sukuna stutter? It has you babbling out a stupid, “Kuna, d-did you just-”
Like hell he would let his pretty queen see him like that. 
And without warning - without even a single symptom that he heard your question - Sukuna stands up right onto his muscular feet. 
You’re being slapped with a heavy crash of his dripping wet heads against your bulbous g-spot. Gravity taking its lewd advantage to slide you down, down, down his throbbing lengths until you were scratching up against the wild tufts of pink under Sukuna’s toned abs. Massaged up and down by his muscles - such an obvious show of strength for the king. 
He has you splayed out shamefully - with your legs hooked underneath two of his strong forearms, completely weightless. The other two interlocking on top of your head to have you swallowing every single one of his solid inches. Filthy. 
Sukuna smirks at the translucent rivulets of slick that gloss down his disappearing lengths, “Wh-what- ahem- what were you sayin’, woman? Sorry- ya got a little-” Pounding up even harder. “-loud.”
“I-I don’t-” you’re mewling out, wincing at the rough drag of his second - much larger - tongue craning across your forgotten clit. “-don’ remember, Kuna–”
Of course. 
“Don’t remember?” Sukuna seethes - deep baritone a few octaves higher than usual, words dripping with such utter mocking. “Now h-how will we get to twenty-eight if you can’t even ah- think, brat?”
Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t either. Couldn’t even breathe if he didn’t want to drag out rasping ahs! from his throat. So fucking stimulated that he feels his lips tremble, and can hear his other fucking mouth snicker. Snicker. 
“Tch- open that pretty mouth f’me.”
You barely have a second thought as you do - all so perfect for Sukuna to bless your tongue with a thick wad of his saliva. Honeyed and dripping down your throat.
You’re looking right into his devilishly red eyes as you swallow. “Wan’ more, Kuna–”
“More…” Sukuna breathes out. Small. Broken. More to himself than anything. And he can’t believe it - can’t even compute how the hell he ever got so lucky. Not before chuckling in such a dark and humorless way that makes your sopping pussy even more drenched. “More more more more- hah! I’ll give ya more- She wants more- ya hear that?”
Sukuna’s leering his sleazy gaze allll the way down to your headily dribbling cunt and talking. In utter disbelief - he’s seeing stars right behind his eyes with every raw rub your gripping walls onto his cocks, with every glissading massage against each other. It was such a tight fit. 
“Y-you’re so ngh- gone-” you’re bumbling out boldly. 
“So fuckin’ what-” he’s sneering. “H-honestly- fuckin- let that pretty cunt of yours speak, woman- she’s nicer.”
Syrupy wet slurps following with every crash of his wet tip against your sweet spots. Every languid lick down your presoaked slit, his mouth was everywhere now. Out of control. 
And like he was urging your pussy louder, whispering out a rasping c’mon c’mon c’mon every time he’s pummeling you like he hates you. Twenty eight? Twenty eight Sukuna’s ass, he was going to make your poor pussy cum hard enough for the entire month combined. 
So when you do - that’s exactly how you feel.
Your entire body thrashes in Sukuna’s unforgiving hold. Whining. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, it just felt too good. In the thundering distance somewhere, you hear someone whimper - not you. Sukuna.
His mouth parting into a barely-lucid oh! when his rummaging cocks suddenly burst out in such honeyed trickles of cum. And Sukuna came a lot - he always did - but this was ridiculous. 
You could feel the hefty weight of his lengths double as he floods your bruised and battered insides with swirling swivels of cum. Sloshing around to stick to your inner walls like a second skin with every fuck up deeper and deeper-
“B-brat.” Sukuna whines. Whines. You don’t know what’s more shocking - that or the glassy tears collecting in his eyes. “Such a merciless queen you’d be…”
♡ GOJO SATORU - 31st Dec. 4:44AM
“Please-” And no one can ever say they’ve had the privilege of hearing the great Gojo Satoru beg before. No one can ever say they’ve known the feeling of his hot tears splat! splat! splat! against your shoulder like a slight drizzle. Whimpering, “-please we’re almost- almost there…”
He has you splayed out on your side on that decadent king-sized bed of his, massive palms sliding up and down your shaky thighs to perk them up for him to feed his cock right between them. Over and over and-
“I-I think I c-can feel it coming-” Gojo’s sputtering out, and at this point his rugged thrusts are barely even that. Slow, slurring grinds of his toned hips that make you squeal. “Think I can- ohhh fuck- I think m’gonna cum again, s-sweetheart.”
It’s just about all you can do to clear your shot throat, rasping out a whiny. “C-cum inside, Toru– wan’ it all oh-” 
And of course when Gojo cums, he’s not going to cum alone. Of course, when he’s nearing his dangerous peak - tipping over practically - he’s giving your plump clit a sudden thwack! with his fingertips. Long, and coated in buzzing cursed energy to make you see stars. 
“Heheh- yer cummin’ again–” he’s crooning in a feverish pitch into your ear. “Such a naughty cunt- h-how are you still creaming all over my hah- cock, darlin’?” Fucking giggling - oh, and for all Gojo’s big mouth he doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming too. 
Bolts of tiny blue lightning peaking at the corners of his eyes, fingertips flashing with the pressure of atoms - and you’re sure that if the bedroom lights hadn’t already shattered many, many orgasms ago then they would have right now.
It takes you a few seconds to regain the feeling in your legs - it takes Gojo a few seconds to realize that he’s cumming dry. Slowly swirling around his fat head in little swipes down your tenderized sweet spots, hips picking up the tempo more. And more. And more and more like he was furious - like he was fuming at the lack of sloshing wads of cum that stream into your gooey depths. 
Fuck.
“O-oh- you’ve broken me-” he’s whining, running those electrified hands up and down your body. Before finally resting on your hardened nipples and pinching. “-look what you’ve- shit- I can’t- I need to. Honey, I need it-”
Shit, he sounded so desperate.
And his movements were just as needy. Teleporting - yeah, not even pulling out for a mere millisecond, he couldn’t even stand the thought - to loom above your body. Flipping you onto your back, his biceps bulge at the fatigue when Gojo’s veering your legs to dangle around his neck.
“A mating press?” you mewl, the burn so merciless. 
But Gojo doesn’t answer- shit, can he even hear you right now? Only gruffing out a rough, “Lock your ankles.” 
You’ve barely even moved to do as your thoroughly pussydrunken husband had said before he’s plugging every spare inch into your cunt so full. Starting off with tiny, lazy gyrations before building up and up and-
“T-Toru–” you sputter out, syrupy voice so sweet that it makes Gojo kiss away your pout in a sodden drag of his rosy lip. And his eyes droop dangerously closed when your clingy walls clutch around him so tight. “Wh-what’s gotten into you- what has you like…”
This.
So feral.
Barely even human at this point.
After pathetically failing at No Nut November, the strongest was determined to complete this month’s challenge. Even it kills him.
Gojo was fucking you so hard into the bed that you’re noticing one side of it had utterly splintered and sagged. And a particularly hard mash of his swollen, red tip into your bouncy cervix makes him slam! one overwhelmed palm down beside your head. In your peripheral vision, you notice that your silky bedsheets had a palm print burnt into it.
“What h-has me like this?” he’s echoing your words like he’s just now heard them. “What has me like this- hahah! What else do you think…” Pressing down onto your inflationary bulge hard so that all voluminous dumps of his cum seeps right through your leaky slit. Gojo’s running a thumb down your teary cunt and plugging it right into your mouth. “Suck. Wh-what do you oh-”
You don’t even give him the sanity to finish his sentence, wrapping those pretty kiss-bitten lips of yours to give his thick thumb a thorough French kiss. You’re tasting him - tasting yourself. 
And the sight is enough for Gojo to let his head fall into your neck and cum. 
“This time-” Gojo’s rasping under his breath, muscular hips jamming into yours again. Fucking his furiously twitchy cock up into your forbidden areas. “This time.” And again. And again and again until the pale, sweat-slicked skin at his abs were rubbed red. “This time- this time- this time this time- fuck no–”
But it’s no use.
No matter how much Gojo’s ramming his weepy length down your snug walls, he was simply cumming dry. Keening at the familiar gloss of oozy cum that dredge their way down his coral pink shaft.
You brush away the drenched locks of snowy white from his pretty features - scrunched and on the verge of sobbing when you’re rutting your hips up tiredly to bounce against his. The mating press was so sloppy that it had your joints popping - ones that your husband immediately rubs over with reversed curse technique. Mumbling, “S’okay, Toru- you lasted this whole ah- month. You don’t need to-”
“-no no no but I need it.” he’s cutting you off. Swirling a few greedy fingers over your clit, “I need it- need it so bad b-because this Christmas…” Momentarily in awe at the way you were so sweetly holding him, so sweetly gulping up every one of his staggering inches. ”-I want a baby.”
Maybe you’re cumming - maybe Gojo is cumming. Maybe both.
You’re not even sure at this point, because despite being broken into a million different shards, the overhead lights flicker on and off. And what you feel is a wisping splatter of his seed drenching the very gooey bottom of yout cunt. Finally. 
Gojo’s orgasm coming out in waves up and down - your own nothing but a tight tingle. He’s dragging his cock to fuck out pearly beads of something delicious. More. More and more- “O-oh no…was that thirty one- hngh- were you keeping count, sweetheart?”
“...”
He has the audacity to grin - all pearly white teeth and glistening trail of drool on display. Big, fat tears rolling down his pretty eyes, “O-one more to make sure?”
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A/N. I love making men cry.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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luna0713hunter · 7 months ago
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Walking to your apartment,you don't expect to see Sukuna down on his knees,with a baby Yuji sitting on his back.
The man gives you a flat look,as Yuji tugs at his identical pink hair,and babbles something.
"don't even dare-"
You burst out laughing.
In your defense,its not often to see your boyfriend,CEO of his own company,one of the scariest man alive, crawling on his hands and knees to please his nephew. Its not often to see Yuji happily tug at his hair more,only to make Sukuna crawl towards you.
"oh my god-"
"i said dont-"
"he has you wrapped around his tiny finger!"
You giggle and wipe the tear from your eye; already feeling the exhaustion of the day long at work fading away. You sigh,and crouch down to Yuji's eye level on your boyfriend's back,and pinch his chubby cheek.
"look at you go! making scary uncle Ryo kneel for you!"
Yuji giggles happily and wraps his tiny fingers around yours. The sight makes your heart soften and you lean to press a gentle kiss to his chubby cheek over your boyfriend's head. When you hear him grumble under his breath,you chuckle and kiss Sukuna's forehead as well. He glares at you,and it makes you press another loud kiss to his cheek.
"stop that, woman!"
"or what?" You tease and brush his bangs from his eyes, "you're gonna make me sit on your back too?"
"oh baby," a sudden dangerous glint takes over his red eyes,and you feel yourself growing hot under his hungry gaze, "i can think of more entertaining ways to punish you, we both know that."
You huff,and try to ignore your burning cheeks.
"not in front of Yuji. Behave, Ryo." You stand up from you position,and move toward kitchen, "did you guys eat anything?"
"i could eat you, instead-"
"Ryo!"
And even though he doesnt understand a word,Yuji lets out a loud laughter over your banter. You just have to pray to all the gods above so he doesn't pick up anything from his uncle as his first word.
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wrylu · 11 months ago
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FUCK!!! it's finally done. after a whole day
COD CHARACTERS, but they're B U G S
cw insects!! if you get hibbie jibbies from buggo art or just bugs in general, u can scroll💗
and for those who wanna see the art, it looks better if you click on it and zoom in on it or something :)
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the worms in my brain bothered me last night to draw cod characters but they're bugs and this morning i started IMMEDIATELY
at the cost of my fingers, wrists, and hands 🕊
the amount of tags on this one.
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yanderedrabbles · 22 days ago
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Yandere Mobster
Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.
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Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.
Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.
Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.
Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.
Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.
Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?
Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.
Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.
The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.
You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.
Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.
Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.
You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.
Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.
Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.
Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.
Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.
Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.
Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.
Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.
Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.
Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.
Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.
Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.
Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.
Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.
Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.
Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.
Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.
Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.
Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.
Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.
Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.
Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.
Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.
Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.
Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.
She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.
Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.
Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.
You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.
You say yes, as though you have a choice.
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kentopedia · 1 year ago
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento
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yuuji accidentally calls you mom
contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059
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“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”
kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.
a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.
so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.
“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”
yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.
“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.
“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”
he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”
there's an elongated moment of silence.
you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.
all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“
“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“
though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”
you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.
kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”
you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.
“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.
yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.
“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!
kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.
“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”
"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."
kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.
though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.
you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”
yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”
kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”
you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.
"you should be nicer to your son, kento."
kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."
you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.
but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.
"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.
kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."
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kateschi · 26 days ago
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the katsuki bakugou effect
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synopsis: where your husband, katsuki, has a way of calming your daughter like no one else can.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
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katsuki’s ability to calm your daughter is nothing short of magical.
it doesn’t matter how fussy or inconsolable she gets; the moment he holds her, everything changes.
her tiny fists are no longer clenched in frustration, her loud cries slowly taper off, and her little body relaxes in his arms. his presence soothes her in a way no one else’s can.
you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been at the end of your rope, trying everything you can think of to calm her.
you’ve rocked her gently, hummed her favorite lullaby, even tried a little soft talking, but nothing works.
when your baby’s tears start to escalate, and her little body trembles in distress, you find yourself on the edge of exhaustion.
but then katsuki walks in.
he steps over to you, and with a quick kiss to the top of your head, scoops her from your arms, then instantly, the tension in the room lifts.
his rough hands gently cradle her, and he murmurs something too quiet for you to catch.
you can’t help but watch in awe as she goes from wailing to calm in just a few seconds, her little face nuzzling against his chest. it’s like a switch flips, and you swear you can see her sigh in relief.
it’s always the same. as soon as katsuki’s around, she settles. she looks at him with a calmness that’s impossible to ignore, her tiny lips pouting slightly as she stares up at him.
her little hands grasp weakly at his shirt, her body relaxing into his hold as if everything is suddenly right with the world. and katsuki just holds her, always.
“you’re a softie,” you tease one day as you watch him rock her back and forth.
katsuki shoots you a glare, but it’s softened by the sight of your daughter curled peacefully in his arms. “shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it. and you can’t help but smile.
you cross the room, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. he stiffens for a moment, but the warmth in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.
“I’m serious,” you say. “you’re the softest guy I know.”
he lets out a gruff chuckle, his scowl deepening, though it's clear he's enjoying your attention as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.
a few weeks later, you’re all at a class 1-a reunion, gathered at the old dorms. the atmosphere is lively, with the familiar banter of your old classmates filling the air.
midoriya’s sitting on the couch, holding your daughter carefully in his arms, cooing softly at her as the rest of the group laughs and talks around them.
but suddenly, the peaceful mood shifts. your girl begins to fidget in midoriya’s arms, her little face scrunching up in that all-too-familiar way before the whimpers start.
a soft cry escapes her lips, and then it builds, escalating into the full-blown wail you know so well. midoriya looks startled, glancing around as if searching for some way to calm her.
“uh, uh, it’s okay,” midoriya says, trying to gently rock her in his arms. “it’s okay, sweetheart."
but your baby’s cries only seem to grow louder, her face turning red as her hands flail helplessly. you glance at katsuki, already knowing what’s coming next.
without a word, katsuki stands up from his seat, the others giving him a bit of space as he walks over.
his eyes lock on your daughter, and there’s something about his gaze that makes everything else fade into the background. he’s not rushing, not frantic.
he just calmly steps in, his arms outstretched.
midoriya silently hands the little girl over. as soon as katsuki has her, everything shifts. he holds her against his chest, and his rough hand gently pats her back.
his thumb brushes against her little arm, his voice soft. “it’s me,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady. “it’s okay.”
your little girl hiccups, her cries fading almost immediately, and then she stops. her lips jut out in a pout, still a little upset, but no longer in distress.
she stares up at him, her wide eyes searching his face as if recognizing him. and then, she settles into the crook of his arm, her tiny hands grasping weakly at the fabric of his shirt.
the room is silent for a moment, everyone watching in awe as your girl rests peacefully in katsuki’s arms. he doesn’t even seem to notice the attention.
his focus is entirely on her, his expression softening as she calms.
you smile to yourself, watching him from the sidelines. even after all this time, katsuki never ceases to surprise you with how much he’s grown, how much he’s learned.
you remember when he first found out he was going to be a father, and how nervous he’d been (though he would never admit that).
but now, here he is, effortlessly calming your daughter.
“man, you’re a real softie now, huh?” kirishima teases from across the room, a wide grin plastered on his face.
katsuki’s eyes narrow immediately, and he glares at his friend. “shut the hell up, red.”
but the teasing doesn’t stop there.
kaminari, who’s been silently watching the entire scene, leans forward with a smirk. “I can’t believe it…the ‘explosion hero’ is actually the baby whisperer now?”
katsuki frowns, and his glare remains trained on the two of them. but there’s a slight restraint in his movements—one that’s only noticeable to you.
he’s trying to stay calm, and it’s all because he doesn’t want to wake your little girl up. you can practically feel the tension in the air as his patience wears thin.
sero, naturally, chimes in with a smirk of his own. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, man. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be ‘aww’ing over a baby like some mushy ball of fluff.”
katsuki’s mouth opens, ready to fire back, but then he glances down at your sleeping daughter, her little chest rising and falling peacefully, and he shuts it again.
for a split second, his fierce expression softens. he takes a deep breath, holding the baby a little tighter.
“you’re lucky she’s asleep, or I would've blasted your asses to oblivion,” he grumbles, but the threat is half-hearted.
kaminari lets out a nervous laugh. “jeez, man, alright, we get it.”
you can’t help but chuckle softly, leaning against the doorframe as you watch them. 
katsuki’s eyes narrow in warning, but despite his frown, there’s a warmth to his expression that doesn’t go unnoticed when he looks back at d/n.
it’s moments like these when the rest of the world seems to disappear, and it's just him, her, and the quiet calm they share.
sighing in resignation, he shifts slightly, walking over to you. you watch as he makes his way across the room, still cradling your daughter in his arms, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she drifts into a deeper sleep.
you don’t say anything at first, but as he gets closer, you meet his gaze with a soft smile.
there’s no denying the softening effect he has when it’s just the two of you—well, the three of you, if you count the tiny bundle in his arms.
he leans into you as he steps to your side, his broad shoulders brushing against yours, and without a word, he tilts his head slightly toward you, seeking the quiet comfort of being beside you.
“I told them to shut up,” katsuki mutters, his voice lower now, quieter. his usual fiery energy is subdued, and he seems content to just be in your presence.
he exhales slowly, letting the weight of the situation fade away. you reach up and gently touch his arm, a soft laugh escaping you.
"she's lucky you’re her dad," you murmur, your eyes flickering down to where your daughter is curled against his chest. "you’re so patient with her."
katsuki scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his true feelings.
“I’m not some damn pushover,” he mutters, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes you want to kiss him.
and you do.
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kofi — navigation — masterlist
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do not copy, translate, or plagarize
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versupital · 4 months ago
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your panties scare me, can i take them off?
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pov. you got new halloween panties/pajamas and he’s about to lose his mind.
content: implied smut, breath play (toji), virgin!choso, sexual content (MDI), husband!nanami, breeding kink (nanami), roommate!gojo, afab!reader
incl pairings: choso, nanami, gojo, toji
word count. 2.1k
soundtrack 💿🌧️: sex on sight ft. usher
Choso.
"Mmh..."
You lay on the bed, entangled in burly arms and the scent of aftershave. Your boyfriend is attacking you in sloppy kisses, all down your neck and jaw, as screams beam out of the TV from the horror movie you'd stopped watching about ten minutes ago.
His hand roams dangerously over your side while your nails dig into his back for stability. The two of you have yet to take things as far as penetration, so it’s all you can do to fight back the urge to whip his cock out and plop down on it.
You wonder if tonight things are going to finally change, as you feel your panties grow damper, and Choso's cock digging into your stomach through his sweats.
"Why do we always do this?" Choso breathes. “We start a movie we can't even finish."
You laugh against him before it melts into a moan at the reminder of his wet lips. "Because I don’t like scary movies, Cho. ‘M so afraid.”
Choso grunts against your skin, "Really? How can i make you feel better?”
You huff and roll onto your back. Choso doesn't waste any time climbing over you, propping himself up on his elbows.
"You can start by taking my shorts off,” you instruct, eyes filled with lust as you stare up at your ebony-haired partner.
He pauses his kisses to look down at you in surprise. "Y-You want to...?"
"Yes," you nod, biting your lip. “Don’t y’wanna comfort me from the scary monsters on the TV?”
Choso nods eagerly, and his big hands come up to your waistband to begin pulling down your shorts. As the material slides over your thighs, he pauses and stares with furrowed brows, right at your underwear.
"Um, baby?" he cocks his head to the side. "Who is... V.S.?"
You let out an exasperated breath before smiling. "That stands for Victoria's Secret, Cho. It's a lingerie brand."
His eyes bulge and he looks back up at you, "Lingerie?"
He continues to slide the shorts all the way off, to reveal your blood red thong with a tiny white ghost on the front. You suspect the ghost is supposed to look like a glob of cum, and you imagine Choso’s in its place.
"Oh fuck," he breathes, "you wore these f'me?"
"Who else, Cho?" you run your hands over your stomach seductively, patting the top of the thong. "You like?”
Choso's eyes flash white, and he hooks his fingers over the skinny string that keeps the thong around your waist.
"Shit, I..." he swallows thickly. "Love them. You have more like this?”
You nod confidently. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you see them one at a time.”
You wink and Choso’s nervous hands remain entangled in the strings of your thong. “What if I can’t please you?”
"Not possible," you shake your head, running your hands into his hair, grateful he’d taken it out of its pigtails for his shower. "I nearly cum every time we make out."
His eyes widen. "Oh, so it's not just me," he breathes out in relief.
You giggle and spread your legs a little more, your lips threatening to pop right out of the terribly small pair of panties.
A girl shrieks on the TV and there is the sound of a slashing knife.
You fake a shiver, "Oh, Cho! I'm so afraid. Mmh, hurry and make me feel better.”
Choso smirks and rips down your panties, knowing that the neighbors are going to think someone is really being murdered by the time he’s done with you.
Nanami.
"Excuse me, my love."
You turn in place to see your husband, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom as you brush your teeth.
"Hmph, yes?" you mumble around your toothbrush, your face heating in the same way it always does when you see him, no matter how long you’ve been together.
Nanami stands awkwardly in the doorframe, shifting his weight like a nervous child. He's in his own version of pajamas: a white shirt, plaid pants, and house shoes. His hand raises and he points to your legs.
"When did you acquire those?" he asks delicately, referring to the tiny orange shorts you have on that are patterned in bats.
"The shorts?" you mumble, before removing your toothbrush and spitting out the toothpaste. "Um, I got them yesterday while costume shopping with the kids. Why?"
Nanami laces his fingers together. "I just thought I'd seen all of your clothes, because you always try them on for me. You didn't..." he inhales a ragged breath. "You didn't show me these. Is there a reason?"
You nearly feel your heart shatter through your ribcage. Nanami clearly looks distraught that you failed to give him a fashion show. At the same time, you notice his pajama pants growing a friendly tent in them, and you suspect you know the real reason he is upset.
"I... wanted it to be a surprise, Ken," you say, pat drying your mouth on a washcloth, before walking towards him, all minty and shower fresh.
"A surprise?" Nanami questions, visibly getting tense as you approach.
"Mhmm..." you tiptoe your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. "You like them?"
"That's a very loaded question," Nanami mutters. "I like anything you wear."
"But these seem to be having a different effect on you, honey," you coo, tilting your head to the side, resting your hand on the back of his neck - his sweet spot.
You watch his Adam's apple bob.
"Yes," he whispers, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "They’re really… small. And we, you know, can’t do things as often anymore with the baby… I just miss you.”
You sigh, relaxing under his touch. “Right. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Nanami lets out a feral noise. "No, I’m not. I feel like a horny teenager. Just need you really bad.”
“I haven’t seen you this desperate in a while, honey,” you say, taking a step back, letting your hands fall off of each other. "Go ahead. Take them off.”
Nanami doesn't hesitate. His big hands gently peel down the waistband, and he bites his lip as he examines what’s underneath.
"You're not wearing underwear," he realizes with a breath. “Gonna make me lose myself here, Y/N.”
"Well, I was thinking..." you cock your head to the side. "One more baby wouldn't hurt, would it?"
Nanami's eyes grow a bit larger. “D-don’t say that.”
“Know you’ve been trying so hard not to finish in me,” you coo, “but don’t you miss it?”
“Y/N…” his knuckles go white as he nearly rips the material of your little shorts. “We really shouldn’t.”
"No, but ngh..." you roll your hips under his hands. "Wouldn't it be fun to see how feral we can get?"
"I am already ‘feral’ just looking at these shorts, Y/N." Nanami nearly whines, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, waiting for you to give him the word.
"Really," you whisper on his neck, planting a kiss there soon after. "That was easier than I thought.”
Nanami sighs against you. "Why are you so good at this, hm, little minx?"
You smile against his skin, "Why are my shorts still on, Kento?"
Nanami growls, all guttural and primal instinct, and your back is crashing against the counter in an instant.
You bite your lip, "Eager?” you question.
"You have no idea." He hums as he slides down the orange garment, staring at them. "Did you buy any more?”
"Maybe," you say quietly, blinking as you try to picture what he's going to do to you next.
"Good," he parts your legs and stands between them before using his thick hands to open your mouth and shove the shorts right inside of it. “We’ll need these so we don’t wake the baby.”
Gojo.
"You wanna be me so fucking bad!"
You spin slowly in place, holding a piece of popcorn only halfway to your mouth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Your eyes land on your roommate's bottoms, a plush pair of Friday-the-13th pajama pants. They are exactly like the boy shorts you’re wearing, the ones that have ridden up and cover basically nothing.
"If you wanted to match, you could've just said that," Gojo huffs, crossing his arms.
You raise your eyebrow, "I’ve had these for a long time. You're the one who wants to be like me."
Gojo scoffs. "Why haven’t I ever seen them, then?" He shoves his hands in his pockets. “And au contraire, madamoiselle, I want to be in you. Huuuge difference there.”
You cough a bit, choking on nothing, unable to respond.
"Of course, choking on my cock could definitely work too," Gojo mutters, examining his nails. "Maybe teach you a lesson about walking around in just your panties."
You roll your eyes, but it’s hard to deny the fluttery feeling in your stomach just from his words. "Please, like I've never done this before."
"And every time you have, you end up bent over, begging for me to take it easier, don't you?" He cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes slither down your body like a snake of temptation.
You bite your lip. "So it’s my fault that you have no self control?”
Gojo nods his head. "Yes, maybe I just wanted to have a nice, relaxing Halloween game night with you... but now you've got me so worked up."
You tap your chin. "You wanted to spend time with me that doesn't involve sex? Seems a little out of character, don't you think?"
Gojo stalks towards you, long feathery strides until he's towering over your frame, eyes threatening to sear your clothes right off of you.
"Oh, you can't get any denser, can you?" he questions. "This sick little arrangement we have, teasing each other and fucking on every surface in the house isn't what I want." He pauses. "I mean, yes, but it's more than that."
You blink up at him. "What else could you possibly want?"
Gojo sighs, and slowly wraps his arms around you in a cinnamon-scented bear hug. "I want to contact you about your car's extended warranty."
"SATORU!" you screech, hitting him on the chest as he bursts into laughter.
"I'm joking, you know that I can't take shit seriously," he runs his fingers through his hair. “For fuck sake, I want a relationship with you, okay? Do I need to spell it out on the lawn?"
"Yes, actually," you tease, sitting your popcorn bucket down and running your buttery hands over his chest. "You want to be with me?"
"Your pussy's too good to let anyone else have you," he hums, leaning forward and kissing your neck.
"You're so annoying," you grit, but you can't help but melt into his touch and kisses.
He chuckles against you but doesn’t respond.
Gojo pulls his head out of your neck and leans towards you, lips parted in expectancy.
Your eyes flutter closed just as your mouths collide, this kiss feeling different than the hundreds that had come before it. You lean into him and grab the drawstring of his pajamas, while his fingers are also subconsciously twisting into your boy shorts.
"Mmh, can't get enough of you," Gojo mumbles against your mouth.
You giggle. "Good thing I'm yours now. There's plenty of time to reach all of me."
He breaks away from you and stares down in astonishment. "Really?"
You nod, tugging him closer by his pants. "So, about that game night..."
"Eh, it can wait, we have some celebrating to do." He grins, and before you know it you're being lifted swiftly into the air, hauled over his shoulder with your ass next to his face, as he pops a crack on the soft skin there. "And don't you ever wear these without warning me again."
Toji.
“Why are you hovering? I said sit.”
Your boyfriend is obsessed with you sitting on his face, suffocating him with your cunt and juices, this is nothing new. But this time, he wants to try something a bit more deranged.
You’d just been trying to show him your new panties and matching socks, honest. You may have also been wearing one of his shirts, and this was absolutely his weakness, and you absolutely knew that.
“My shirt, baby?” he’d cooed, pulling you into a hug and planting soft kisses on your face. “New panties too? You spoil me.”
It wouldn’t be long before he was lifting you up, effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying down on it. Then, before you had the chance to squirm or run, he was gripping your sides and lifting you over his face, where you caught your weight with your knees.
“Toji, they’re still on,” you mumble, his hands gliding up your sides to hike up his shirt. He stares directly between your legs which causes your clit to twitch.
“So?” he questions from below.
Thick hands mash into the crease of your hips, forcing your weight to fall down on his wide nose and full lips.
Your face turns the color of beets, but you ultimately have no time to be embarrassed as Toji locks his arms around your thighs.
His eyes have fluttered closed, and you can feel his shuddering breath through the cloth as he takes in your scent.
Your hands are on the headboard for stability, looking down at him, feeling your panties grow damper as he wiggles his face around, nose brushing your clit.
“Toji approved,” he says suddenly, before you feel his fat, warm tongue slide along the material of the panties, and your body lurches.
“Wh-What…?”
“I can still eat you through your panties,” he huffs, eyes popping open and catching you staring down at him. “This was the plan all along, puss.”
Your thighs shudder on either side of his head. “You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack, baby,” he mumbles, before flicking his tongue over the cloth again, nose massaging your clit, hands burying deeper into your skin. It’s all so much, you moan and rotate your hips over him.
“Wh-what made you want to try this?” you ask, biting your lip as he tugs on the material with his teeth, taking in another animalistic sniff.
“You looked so proud to show them off,” Toji grunts. “It’s a shame that they were only going to end up on the floor, huh?”
You have to agree. You’d stopped buying lingerie long ago because it would never last more than a few seconds around Toji, but you figured a new pair of panties couldn’t hurt. You just hadn’t expected this reaction out of him.
Besides, you can’t deny how good it feels to dry hump his face, there only being a thin barrier between your folds and his wet tongue, making it all the more a tease.
From then on, it became a regular tradition for Toji to “approve” your new holiday panties - but of course, the halloween ones remained his favorite.
A/N:
im sorry for pumping out these shitty short ones but im just trying to keep yall fed while we wait for the long ones ^.^
~pennjammin
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muntitled · 1 day ago
Text
Protecting His Investment
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Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader
Summary: No one gets to hurt you except him.
Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Murder, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Voyeurism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Overstimulation
A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume.
This can be read as a continuation of this fic but not strictly
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“Shouldn't I be blindfolded?"
If it weren't for the silence simmering between you both, in this monotonous taxi drive, he might’ve not heard you at all and perhaps you should have been more careful with your choice of wording but you were feeling a tiny bit reckless this Wednesday afternoon. He hadn't ever offered to personally fetch you from campus, and you felt incredibly juvenile when you spotted him standing there like a dad, in his grown-up suit while his briefcase hung in his hands in front of him. You'd almost convinced yourself that you were imagining things. That somehow your obsession with the man who kidnaps you every Wednesday to fulfill all his messed up fantasies was truly taking a toll on your mental health.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was real. And he had come to pick you up and you were feeling awfully giddy as he ushered you both into a taxi while a few of your peers stood and stared.
By now he would've blindfolded you. Keeping you completely clueless to the location he brings you to every Wednesday. See, your Salesman had myriad deep rooted issues. Mania. Sociopathy. Sadism. But the issue that irked you the very most was his inability to trust. Before you know it, you're pouting up a storm as you ask him. "Why aren't we using the blindfold today?"
He slowly removes his gaze from the window, where he had been pondering like the old man he is. He quirks up an eyebrow, letting the intensity of his attention wash completely over you.
"Would you like to be blindfolded?" He asks playfully. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and his lips are quirked up like it usually is when he's being sardonic. Still, you remain cautious as you lean forward. You send one quick glance to the taxi driver, wondering if you were being led in some kind of hearse on the road to your death.
"A-Are you going to kill me?" For the first time, cold, white fear ices the warm blood rushing through your veins. Come to think of it, he did seem far chirpier than usual. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. The flags were blood red but you were wearing rose-tinted glasses.
He only snickers before placing a heavy hand on your head, patting it down.
He doesn't answer you for the duration of the taxi drive, causing you to slip more and more into your thoughts of morbidity and despair. Why else wouldn't he blindfold you if not to end your life once you got there? It seemed dreadfully logical and so on-brand for him. He'd get bored of you sooner or later and then he'd dispose of you. There'd be no need to blindfold you any longer while he took you to his place because you'd soon become a corpse and-
"Doll." The voice cuts through the chatter filling your brain. All at once, the car has stopped, and warm air rushes into the interior as he holds the door open for you. "Get out of the nice man's car." He jests politely, quickly prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the taxi.
The second you're out he walks ahead of you. The building that comes into focus before you have your brows crinkling.
You quickly catch up to him, gazing up at his monotonous face. "Why are we here? You never come to my house."
He doesn't respond as you both walk into the foyer. He walks briskly and powerfully, like a man on the move while you send a small wave to the security manning the front desk. You both enter an empty elevator and he presses a button without you ever having to tell him which floor.
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
He lowers his gaze to you, one eyebrow quirked up.
"You only die when you disappoint me and as of late," he stares directly ahead, "You haven't disappointed me."
The elevator dings and he steps out. You follow him like a puppy without a leash. "In fact I'd say your work ethic as of late has been-" he blows out a long sigh as he makes it your apartment door- recalling all the weeks you two have spent together in vivid kaleidoscopic images. All the pain you let him inflict on you and pleasure he'd offer as a reward.
"-nothing short of stellar. I'm proud of you." He punches in the code to your apartment and you both enter. The curtains are drawn shut because your roommate hates sunlight. You preferred it but there was no communicating with something like her.
He kicks off his shoes at the door.
"What are we doing here?" You ask nervously, "My roommate will be back soon and she isn't very nice."
"We won't be playing at my place today." He says finally meeting your wild and nervous eyes. He seems so lax and so in control. "We'll be playing here."
"B-But my roommate."
"Is that why you were crying?" His gaze keeps you rooted to the floors, unable to move even if you wanted to, "Because of your roommate?"
"Crying? I wasn't crying-"
"Back at the university," he says, casually removing a microscopic piece of lint from his grey blazer, "Your head was beant and you looked up at me with bloodshot eyes." His eyes shine with amusement as he says, "Usually with our sessions, the crying only comes later on." Then he quirks his head and asks, "What happened?" There's a bang somewhere in the apartment and your head snaps forward. Your eyes scan over the adjoining living room and kitchen but he seems unfazed.
"It's stupid-" you shake your head, "Like who even still gets bullied in uni?"
You laugh pitifully, leaning against the nearest wall. He stands tall before you. A brick wall.
"Your roommate's threatening to kick you out of this apartment to move her boyfriend in?" He asks before adding, "Again."
Your head snaps up to him, "H-How-"
In that moment, he turns rather robotically, making his way deeper into your home. It's clean. Thank God.
"You don't realize how chatty you get when you're about to orgasm." He says before stopping right outside your closed bedroom door.
"My roommate- she... decided last night that- well- she would really like her boyfriend to live here instead-"
"Without consulting you first?" He clarifies, staring blankly ahead at the door, listening very attentively.
"Y-Yes without consulting me." You bring your hand to the doorknob, on your way to open it but he stops you with an iron grip around your wrist. You wince.
“Continue talking.” He says and you do.
"This morning they both kinda sprung on me that they'd like to be living here now. She went behind my back and already placed the deposit down our landlord, well," you clear your throat. "I might be homeless soon." You laugh but then swallow very thickly as the gravity of the situation falls onto your shoulders.
"And still you decided to have our sessions today?"
"If you'll have me," you nod.
"Remarkable." He replies. "Well I've never been very fond of my things or my toys getting dirty." He begins mysteriously as he places his hand directly over yours on the doorknob.
"Pardon?"
"I can't have my favorite toy living out on the street. Who knows what kind of animals would try to rape you or drug you or fucking stick their slimey dicks inside you-" he turns the doorknob, clicking your room open.
You're not even sure when this started happening. These 'private sessions' with your Salesman that quickly bled into something much more concerning. Before you knew it, he was seeping into your brain, polluting you with obsession. There had never ever been anyone else involved.
"What the hell did you do?" You ask, slowly entering your room to find two chairs placed directly in front of your bed. As soon as you enter, you hear the blood curdling, muffled screams being ripped from the throat of the two people strapped to those chairs.
"I'm protecting my investment," Says your Salesman as he pushes the door closed behind you.
Your feet feel like lead as you watch them and their panic-stricken eyes. There in front of you, they sit opposite one another, both with a haggard countenance and tears streaming down their cheeks.
At the sight of you, your roommate screams something horrid but it's muffled by the gag placed in her mouth, a gag the shape of a dog bone.
He's there too. The boyfriend. He's not as loud or as frantic as she is but he's significantly startled. His eyes are wild and vacant. The same gag.
"Oh my god-" you begin but he cuts in front of you, making his way to the couple seated across from each other.
"We're all gonna play a game- a quick one," He says, "Can't play for too long because I've been dying to get inside you since I saw those pretty little bloodshot eyes."
"Sir- I"
If you knew his name you might've screamed it in this moment. 'Sir' is your only point of reference to address the manic man in front of you.
This isn't right.
Right?
You're so confused, you barely register than you've thought out loud. It hits you as he slowly shrugs his blazer off.
"What isn't right is them thinking they can rape this apartment from underneath you." He says, folding it and placing it meticulously over your desk.
"I- have neighbors!?" You begin but he has a plan for that too.
"I had your room soundproofed since our first session." You're pushed into even more confusion.
"WHAT!? When did you even-"
"While you were at school-" he says before uncovering a handgun from his briefcase. A handgun and a silencer.
"Point is, Doll, I'm going to need you to play a game for me, ok?"
"DOLL!?" Comes your roommates' mortified and muffled cries.
"I need you to make one tiny decision for me." He says, screwing on the silencer onto the barrel of the revolver. It strikes you then that even when the mask is off, and the worst workings of his personality are on display for all to gaze upon, you still find him breathtakingly attractive.
"If-" tears burn the back of your throat, "If this room is soundproof why-why do you need a silencer?"
"I'm nothing if not a cautious man, you know this." Then his expression turns very grave and very dark as he says. "Don't you?"
“Yes, Sir,” you reply almost automatically. Like your need to respond to him- to please him, greatly overpowered your moral compass. “You're extremely cautious.”
Your roommate releases a shrill noise from the very back of her throat, her eyes pleading with the humanity she desperately tries to find in yours.
“Out of these two, he's my least favourite,” Your Salesman says, standing beside you. Eyes wild as he points his gun to the boyfriend's head.
“But this isn't about me,” he turns to face you, slowly dragging you gaze away from the victims that had once been your tormentors. You look up at him with a broken sob slipping through your lips. “I need you to choose.”
There it is.
His words seem to detonate what little fate you had in his humanity. There is nothing in his eyes except hedonism and violence.
"I'm going to have you to choose very quickly, baby-”
You're already shaking your head as frazzled braids tickle your shoulders. Your eyes find theirs and you immediately say, “I'm not going to do it.”
When you look at him again, you're almost horrified to find the smile that had once been on his face, completely wiped away. His face is a shadow and it strikes you way more than anything ever has. Something in you scolds you. It gnaws at you to make things right.
“Don't do that.” He says darkly. “Don't disappoint me.”
His hands -one still holding a gun- moves to cup both your cheeks. He cranes your neck further back, gazing deeply. “I can't have you living on the street.”
“You don't have to kill anyone-”
His jaw ticks, “Pick.”
“Sir…”
“You're disappointing me.”
All it takes is those three words to have your world crashing to the floor. Tears blur your vision as you raise a trembling finger.
“Him. I pick him.”
It's the first time you realized that you were brimming with codependency
Or stupidity.
Or maybe both
“That's a good girl.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The father you never had.
He lets his eyes meet that of the boyfriend who is shaking and writhing in seat.
“What a good fucking girl I have, wouldn't you agree?” He asks the boyfriend yet he only cries and cries and cries. Meanwhile, you're bathing in the warm, milky words of praise.
"I suppose you wouldn't be able to agree to much in a second-"
He raises the gun.
Wait-" but the trigger is already pulled, and the bullet slices through the air and the deed is done.
It's remarkable how fast it travels. The speed of the bullet. Like it's competing with light itself. One moment his head is there and his brain is inside it, functioning like usual and the next moment, it's splattered all across my bedroom wall, coating your stuffed animals and drenching your pink bedding.
“You killed someone…”
“We killed someone, and you did such a good job. Now we're real rich people-”
You shake your head.
“Oh my fucking god we killed someone-”
It's stupid, but the first thought that comes to mind is-
“How- How am I gonna get the stain out!?”
“I'll get you new sheets, Doll, I promise…”
Meanwhile the roommate is crying and screaming her throat hoarse. You watch gravely as vomit soaks her gag.
“That's fucking disgusting.” He says before turning back to you. A spray of blood scatters across the side of his handsome face. He'd just committed murder and yet you still describe him as handsome.
“You're not disgusting at all.” He says, “You're so clean and beautiful.” His large hands rub over your face. “And now this apartment's yours. Ours. Maybe.”
Ours.
That word somehow affects you more than the murder you'd just lay witness to. It has you staring up at him with grateful, love-filled eyes. You're still scared but, you were his. And that was a powerful feeling. You'd never belonged to anyone before. Certainly not any man as handsome or smart as this. This isn't rose-tinted glasses anymore, it's rose-tinted vision.
“We killed someone.” You say. Solidifying the fact that you were a couple.
Your heart rages in its cage when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.
“Fuck yes we did,” he moans before smashing his lips down onto yours. Confusion and discomfort wage a terrific and bloody war inside you as he kisses you absolutely dizzy. Your insides are swirling and your stomach is turning at the sight of the blood drenching your walls.
he tips your head up, forcing his tongue in and he moans when you let him. Your tongues touch and coax and he pulls you in close.
“You know how good you looked when I picked you up earlier, Doll? I loved seeing those bloodshot eyes of yours.” He mumbles, “I just hated not being the one to make you cry.”
You sob something awful. The sound escapes you while your lips are still plastered to his.
“But this is all me,” he says proudly, gazing down at your watery eyes as he pins you up against the wall. “This is all me.”
Your roommate sits in a daze. Over his wide shoulder, her eyes stare blankly into yours and you almost find yourself mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'.
Almost. But you never do.
Your brain is too clouded by feelings of fear, regret, pleasure and… satisfaction. In your defense her boyfriend really fucking sucked.
"Take this off." He groans, lowering his large build to the floor to shove your shorts and underwear down. Undressing you almost formally as he lifts your one leg out followed by the other.
Your eyes are still on her.
Every vile word she's said to you. Every occasion she'd bring her equally cruel friends over and they'd gossip about you loud enough for their words to carry through the walls.
You realize very gravely that your care is waning.
That humanity that was still left inside you is thinning.
And he's pressing wet kisses against your legs, worshipping the soft cellulite at your thighs.
A man in a suit at his knees for you and she's forced to watch.
It makes you feel so-
"Fucking beautiful, fuck." He groans.
The more riled up he is, the less care he gives to how crass his language becomes. As if trapped in a daze, with your eyes still on your tormentor -your bully- you hook your fingers into his hair. Parting your legs you lead his mouth to your exposed cunt and he slurps you up for all your worth.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he eats you out with vigor. He flattens his tongue and suctions his mouth against your clit, causing a deep and guttural moan to spill from your lips.
He pulls back, breathing raggedly, "Fuck my face," he commands, before placing both hands on your ass, enough to have your cunt riding his open mouth. It feels so fucking good your eyes are stinging with tears. You let them fall because you'd know he'd appreciate it. He appreciates every tear in your confidence. Every waver in your air-tight judgement. It undoes him completely to see you so fucking pathetic.
He looks up at you while you're riding him. Those morally black eyes are urging you to hump his face and you do.
At the sight of your tears falling his nails dig into your ass and you moan more. All the sounds you're able to make are in intelligible sounds of pleasure. But you force yourself to come to your senses. Just long enough to whisper
"Th-Thank you, Sir,"
He stills. Completely stunned.
You come. It crashes down on you all while your roommate tries to squeeze her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to delude herself into believing none of this is real.
"You are fucking fire, you know that?" He croaks, slowly rising. You're breathing oh so quickly and it only speeds up at the sight of your arousal casting his jaw.
“I wanna fucking hurt you so bad. I wanna eat you. I wanna fuck you. I wanna do so many unspeakable things to you- you're so perfect.”
He throws one more gaze over his shoulder. His almond eyes scan over the body, then the girl and he groans, furiously undoing his belt.
"How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he says, almost to himself.
"Answer me." He presses his body firmly against yours, until your spine is straight against the wall. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."
He growls before bringing a hand up to your chin. It's painful the way he grabs you, but you're so used to pain. It lives here now. Between you both.
"I-I- don't know-" you really don't know and he melts at that.
"I'll tell you how, Princess. " he wraps your leg around his waist, "People like me- people we call crazy and evil-” His eyes are so wide, his smile too. -we get nice things. And people like that-" he quirks his head backwards, “The weak? Those people on the streets, they die.” He says, grinding his cock agaisnt your cunt, “And we don't die, yeah?"
"Oh fuck." You're seeing stars when his cock sinks into your cunt. It's hard and raging and he's already doing multiple shallow thrusts to force it deeper. "S-So big-" you can't talk, you hardly ever can when he's like this. Fucking you into an absolute frenzy.
"You gonna squirt for me, Doll?” he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he ravages you against the wall. "F-Fuck." Some
“She's a really good squirter-” he turns his head to watch your roommate over his shoulder. Her head is slumped forward, she's fainted perhaps.
After weeks of trying to impress him, to show him that you were not the weak little thing he had first kidnapped- you realize it's paid off. He caveman grunts as he fucks you deeper and harder and a cry rips itself from your throat.
“Y-You want me?” You ask with trembling lips.
“Baby,” he breathes directly into your mouth. “I need you.”
"F-Fuck-" your orgasm sneaks up on you and he watches with immense gratification as you come undone on his cock.
“You're making a mess on my cock-” clear liquid streams out of hou, threatinging tk lush his cock out but he fucks you through it.
“Gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. You're gonna take it, aren't you? My good girl's gonna fucking take it,” he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed and soon he's fucking spurts of warm cum into you.
It fills you completely until the mess is coating your thighs. Through your wave of endless euphoria you see stars, the planets and him in the very centre of it all, guiding you and coaxing you through the bountiful high.
Even when he's done, his cock is still nestled deep inside you, pushing you over the brink of stimulation.
"You're very promising.” He admits, “Always have been.”
2K notes · View notes
joelsgoldrush · 3 months ago
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“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k
old man!logan x f!reader
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SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3
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The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.
Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.
Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.
Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.
But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.
Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.
When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.
Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?
Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.
He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.
And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.
If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.
But there’s no you in his past.
Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.
It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.
Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.
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He meets you when he least expects it.
It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.
It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.
When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.
They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.
But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?
No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.
Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.
You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.
There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.
Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.
This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.
But, all good things come to an end, because—
“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.
You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”
He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”
“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.
The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.
This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.
You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”
That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”
“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”
Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”
You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”
It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.
“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”
Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.
“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”
Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.
He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”
“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.” 
“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”
Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.
Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.
Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”
It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.
Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him. 
Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?
Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?
Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?
A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?
You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”
Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”
“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”
“You drink while you drive?”
“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”
You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 
For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.
And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.
You: Hi.
He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.
You: Are you working tonight?
You’ve got to be kidding him.
Logan: Why are you texting me?
He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual. 
You: Why are you answering me?
Oh, you’re smart. 
Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.
You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.
Logan: I’m busy.
You: Well, what time do you get off?
Logan: I work all night.
You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.
An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.
Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.
You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.
Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not. 
What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.
He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.
Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.
But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.
Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.
There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.
In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.
You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.
He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.
Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.
“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”
I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.
“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.
Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.” 
“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you should. You invited me.”
How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.
Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.
An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”
The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.
A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.
When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.
You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”
“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.
The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.
Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.
He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.
Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.
He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.
What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.
Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?
Are you truly that desperate for human contact?
Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?
Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.
Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.
His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.
When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.
It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.
“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations,  but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.
Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.
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You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.
Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.
You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.
There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.
Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.
He sincerely cares about what you have to say.
This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.
Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.
Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.
Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground. 
Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.
He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.
Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive. 
You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.
You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him. 
“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.
He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.
Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.
Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”
Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?
Bad-tempered, sure.
A pain in the ass? Definitely.
But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.
It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.
He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice? 
When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.
Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.
Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?
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As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.
He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.
The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.
Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.
Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?
It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.
Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.
His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.
It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.
He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.
Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.
At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?
God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.
You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.
(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)
Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.
Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.
What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.
His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.
Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.
But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.
“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.
What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!
There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”
“My brain is just… off today.”
“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?
“Yeah.”
He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.
How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor. 
“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.
Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.
He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.
“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no—
“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”
Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”
He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.
Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases. 
I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?
His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”
“I asked you first.”
“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”
Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”
Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.
Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.
Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.
At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.
Indeed, he’s very much alive.
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“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.” 
His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.
He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.
Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.
This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.
You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.
He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.
“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.
Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.
“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.
He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”
Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath. 
“Words.”
“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”
“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”
Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.
“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”
Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.
Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”
Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.
The water stains from flooding on the walls.
The supermarket list.
The rising price of gas.
The—
“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”
You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”
“I said I want you to fuck me.”
Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.
“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”
You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”
Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.
Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.
A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.
So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.
Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.
Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.
Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.
If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close. 
What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—
“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”
The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency. 
“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”
You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 
His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.
With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.
Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.
Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.
Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.
Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”
Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.
Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.
Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.
Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?
“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.
“What is it?”
“I know.”
You do?
Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.
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dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
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