#and for the rest it's up to nature (and if there's a storm people can draw their own conclusions. he's certainly not discouraging them) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supernatural-bias · 9 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake

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fireinmoonshot · 7 months ago

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Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Twisters) Summary: You're a new addition to the Storm Par team and Tyler finds himself fascinated with you from the very beginning.

It’s been a long and stressful day, so you assume that the group of tornado wranglers hanging about the large red truck by the stairs are feeling the same way as you – exhausted – and will let you head upstairs to get some much needed rest.

You are, however, incredibly wrong.

“Hey, you’re the one with the Storm Par team, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to a stop on the first landing and turn to the group, all of their eyes staring up at you, and nod. “And you are the ones that make videos on Youtube.”

Boone, one of the only ones who’s names you’d gotten earlier today, laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’m taking it as a win since you know who we are, as well as the other million people who subscribe to us.”

It’s hard not to smile at least a little at his cockiness. If you had a million subscribers on Youtube, you’d probably also have let it go to your head a little.

You try and excuse yourself from the conversation then, assuming it’s over, and take a step towards the stairs, but yet again – you’re wrong. This time, it’s the tall, gorgeous blond man that speaks. Tyler Owens.

“I don’t think she’s subscribed to us, Boone.”

You can’t help it. You bite. “What makes you say that, Owens?”

He grins up at you from his spot on the back of the truck. “Am I wrong?”

“That’s not an answer.”

The others in the group laugh and whoop, obviously enjoying the back and forward between the two of you. You assume that it’s rare for Tyler Owens to get that from anyone, let alone a fellow storm chaser that he’s never met before in his life.

Tyler looks at you for a few moments without saying anything and you take that as your cue to leave, stifling a yawn as you turn away and head up the staircase. You can hear the others chattering back at the truck as you reach the top of the staircase and move to find your room, desperate for a warm shower and a comfortable bed.

You’re so stuck in your own thoughts that you don’t hear someone bounding up the stairs behind you.

“Hey, Storm Par,” Tyler Owens’ voice surprises you.

You look up from the key in your hand, having been checking your room number, and meet his eyes. “Were you that desperate for an answer on whether I’m subscribed to your Youtube channel that you had to follow me up here?”

Tyler chuckles to himself. “No, surprisingly not. Just figured I’d come and ask you how you’re doing and didn’t think you’d want an audience for that question.”

You’re a little surprised by his kind nature. Judging by what you’d seen of him so far, he was more of an act first, think later kind of person. And maybe he still was since he’d run after you so fast.

“How I’m doing? I met you twelve hours ago.”

He flashes a grin. “I can’t ask someone I met twelve hours ago how they are?”

“Well…” You hesitate, a little lost for words. “I’m fine, just tired. I haven’t done this storm chasing thing in a couple of years and it’s going to take a bit of getting used to, especially working with a team like Storm Par.”

You don’t owe Tyler an explanation about everything, not about why you haven’t done it in years, nor why you’re a bit apprehensive about the Storm Par team. But you figure, since he’d been so kind to follow you up here to check in on you, a small explanation is the least you can offer him in return for his kindness.

Tyler nods. “Listen, I know my team can be a little much sometimes – in a good way, don’t get me wrong – but if you’re ever after a bit more fun than the suits and PhD’s of Storm Par, I’m sure we can squeeze you in.”

You snort. “They do not wear suits while storm chasing.”

“How do you know? You’ve only been here for twelve hours, Storm Par.”

Tyler smirks as you narrow your eyes at him. “Not my name, Owens.”

“Go and get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” He can see that you’re exhausted, and even though you’re happily playing along with him, he’s not the type to push it too far. Especially when it comes to you, apparently. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

“You gonna set up camp outside my room?”

“No, not for someone I’ve only known for twelve hours. But I will guard the stairs incase Javi or Scott come looking for you,” he smiles, amusement in his every word. “Go on.”

You listen to him, eyeing him carefully one last time before turning and heading towards your room, which you think is at the end of the corridor. Just as you’re putting your key in the lock, you hear him yell out behind you.

“If you can’t sleep, you can always look up Tornado Wranglers on Youtube!”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters x you #twisters x reader

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vaguely-concerned · 3 months ago

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the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

#I am worried about him all the time. but also: his found family of godslaying maniacs and also the power of love. there are reasons to hope #when there was only one set of footprints in the sand that was the veilguard party holding lucanis in their arms #and going 'excuse you he said no FUCKING pickles!!!' while he's like '🥺should you guys really be -- ' 'YES'#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age meta #there's some messiness to his arc but what mary kirby managed to capture here about how this works. is everything to me #he is so exactly for me. I'm sorry for all the people he turned out not to be for. but not for him being for me #the gift of looking at him and hearing 'you're more than what you're going through' and be forced to annoyedly go 'okay #MAYBE that could be also be true for me. maybe.' he's going through it. and also so much more and the funniest person in the world #he's so worth it to still have in the world!!!!#I'm so glad we don't get to 'fix' his relationship with his family and especially caterina actually #that is stuff that would need to happen on a time scale waaay outside of the one in this game #and there's Something very real in having to go 'this is not for me to decide for you. who you love and what you do about it is yours'

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myfictionaldreams · 1 month ago

Note

For a request do you think you could write poly!marauders and how they would deal with James or Siri dropping into subspace or drop?

Prong's Day // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: James was having one of the best days of his life, and what better way to celebrate it than in the arms of the ones he loves?

Requested by: Thank you for the request, my love! I hope you like it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, subspace, subdrop, sub!james (baby boy), dom!sirius, dom!remus, sub!reader, comfort, oral (f / m receiving), orgasm denial, aftercare

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The crowd's roar was almost deafening as James Potter, with a shit-eating grin and all, lifted his fist in the air, displaying the golden snitch he had just caught. The quidditch seeker circled the pitch on his broom, as proud as ever as he savoured every second of the never-ending cheering.

“Potter!” screamed someone from his left. Before he had time to brace for impact, multiple of his fellow Gryffindor quidditch players had tackled him midair. It was a miracle they all managed to stay on the broom. “We won! We won!”

The infamous game against Slytherin had been won; they hadn’t even won the Quidditch Cup yet. However, Gryffindor had been on a losing streak against Slytherin over the last three years, so the excitement from the Gryffindor team was much deserved.

Your throat burned from the effort of screaming so loud. You couldn’t be more proud of James and Sirius as they continued to celebrate in the air. You were squished thoroughly amongst the crowd, being pulled from one jumping hug to another.

“Come one, let’s go down there!” Remus had to yell so that you could even hear him. Thankfully, he was taller than most, and you were able to spot him amongst your group of friends. “Grab my hand.” You did, holding on for dear life as he eased the two of you through the crowd until you were in the stairwell. It seemed everyone else had a similar idea as masses of people followed after the two of you to storm the pitch and celebrate with the team.

It took some time to find him, but soon, you’re in James' warm, crushing hug, screaming your congratulations into his ear. You’re breathless by the time you can repeat the sentiment with Sirius, whose hair was becoming loose from the low bun he’d pulled it into.

James is then collectively lifted into the air by his fellow quidditch team. It was the most fun you’d had in months as the celebrations continued as the party converged in the Gryffindor common room for the after-party. It was so loud and obnoxious that you were surprised that Professor McGonagall hadn’t shut it down, but from the whispers amongst the party-goes, she was partying just as hard in Hogsmeade.

The night soon came upon you as the music and joy had everyone in great spirits. As the clock struck midnight, you stumbled upon James, red and gold lions pained on his face and eyes drooping with exhaustion. In his current position, you would have felt the same level of comfort as he was sitting sideways on Remus’ lap in an armchair by the fire as his boyfriend whispered into his ear.

“Did someone party too hard?” you ask quietly, trying not to disturb James, but he still looks up at you with a goofy grin.

“Nope”, James responds whilst putting emphasis on the ‘P’. Resting against the arm of the chair, you began to comb your fingers through his untameable hair, finding the strands surprisingly soft as James’ eyes closed in contentment.

Smiling softly at his handsome face, your eyes darted to Remus who was also watching with adoration, his hands running up and down James' legs. “I was just telling Prongs how proud I am of him, " Remus explains, giving you a subtle wink. A hint of rosy blush deepened over James' face as he nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck. You’d noticed James's signs of neediness from the moment he was wrapped in a hug on the pitch.

It wasn’t often that James naturally became submissive, but when he did, your heart melted at how soft he became and how much you wanted to care for him. “I’m proud of you, too. I can’t believe how quickly you won the match for everyone. It was incredible!” You gave your own praise to James while continuing to massage his scalp gently.

“Thank you, " he mumbled, still hiding his face in Remus’ neck.

Leaning down to kiss the back of his head, you moved away, “I’ll leave you two to have some boyfriend time together”. Mostly, you just knew how rewarding it was to be in this headspace and to have Remus doting after you, wanting James to have some one-on-one time. As much as the boys could be dominant in their own ways, Remus was a caretaker and a giver, always craving to be praised and looked after by his submissives while remaining in charge.

However, a firm hand suddenly held onto your wrist as James partially sat up, “Wait, don’t go. I want you to be here too”. Now that he was properly looking you in the eye, you could see how glassy-eyed he appeared, realising that not only was James relaxed and content but when he was like this, it usually meant he was in some kind of subspace, whether it be in a sexual way or just needing to be touched and cared for.

Crouching down so you were closer to James, your hands rested against his chest, feeling the excitable thumping of his heart. “Yeah, you want me to stay?” James nods tiredly, head relaxing against Remus’ shoulder. “Where exactly do you want me to be?”

Your fingers lowered to skim over his calves, intending to stroke against Remus’ fingers, who clutched yours, squeezing reassuringly. You were submissive down to your very core. However, when James was like this, you needed to appear more confident and dominant just to make sure that he felt like he was being cared for and also to take away the pressure from James to care for you so he could enjoy the experience completely.

James' hand cups your face, pulling you closer until your lips hover over his. “You know where I want you”.

Kissing him slowly, you couldn’t help but moan and lean completely into him, even if the position was awkward with Remus being squished beneath, but he never complained. James’ face tilted, his mouth opening eagerly as your tongue slipped and pressed against his. He tasted sweet and oh-so addictive.

From the deep groans and the way he was clutching onto your face, he was enjoying it just as much as you were. Easing back onto your knees to catch your breath, you continued to push his black floppy hair away from his forehead as he slowly opened his eyes and asked, “Please sit on my face”.

The burst of laughter that escaped you was not meant to be as loud as it was as people around the room looked over curiously. You try to reassure him by covering your mouth as James’ blush deepens.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to be that loud. I don’t think we can do that before all these people.”

Before you can comprehend the sudden movement, James is out of his seat and pulling you toward the dormitory stairs. As you pass another group of friends, you hear Sirius bellow, “Hey, where are you all going? I want to come!”

You couldn’t help but snort at the lingering innuendo, shouting, “Follow us then!” You’d never chased up the stairs so quickly before, feeling breathless by the time you’d made it to the boy's dorm.

James swung the door open and sprinted for the magically sized bed, enthusiastically jumping into the centre. He did not appear as out of breath as you and flashed you another grin. “Come and sit on my face,” he said.

With how keen he seemed, you were already soaked and throbbing with need as you reached beneath your skirt and eased your damp underwear down your legs, kicking them off. “Where are your manners?” You jest whilst beginning to crawl on the bed, half away from where Remus and Sirius had also joined the room.

“Now, this is my kinda party”, Sirius cheers whilst locking the dorm door and then moving around the bed to join James on his other side. For a second, you admired Sirius, immediately taking control by gripping James's jaw and kissing him deeply.

James emerged from the kiss even more starry-eyed than before, his gaze returning to you. “Sorry. Please come and sit on my face. Smother me, my love.”

Your cheeks warm at the crudeness of his words, but not stopping as you crawl onto the bed. Sirius’s hands are on you in a second, but only to give you some help as you straddle over James’ chest whilst leaning on Sirius so you don’t topple over.

James hands then settle on your thighs underneath your skirt, pulling on them until you’re pussy is well and truly smushed against his mouth. That man, are you out with all the enthusiasm of when he’d first caught the snitch as his face was now completely covered by your body and skirt.

His tongue licked you from asshole to clit, pushing as deep as he could into your clenching cunt, drinking every last drop of your arousal before sucking on your clit in harsh pulses. Your hips were bucking and grinding on his face to a point you weren’t entirely sure how he was breathing, but not for one second did James move you off. He held you down firmly, moaning and savouring every second.

Sirius mainly had to hold you up as you cried out. Even more so when, over your shoulder, you watched Remus undoing James’ belt, pulling his trousers and boxers down until his cock was exposed. The entire length disappeared down Remus’ throat as he greedily sucked on James.

The response of groans vibrated against your clit, causing your eyes to roll back, chasing that high that was so very close. Sirius captures your screams as you orgasm by kissing you deeply. It was nearly overwhelming the need to please him, the pulsing waves of pleasure and trying not to completely squish James’ head between your thighs.

It takes you a couple of minutes to try and find your bearings whilst sucking in deep breaths of air as Sirius sits back to admire your face. With his help, you’re able to sit back and hover over James’ chest as he continues to be orally pleasured by Remus.

What you weren’t expecting was for James’ grip to tighten around your thighs and for him to pull your hips back to his face. “I wasn’t finished”, he growls desperately whilst trying to lift his head to push his tongue into your cunt.

Glancing tentatively at Sirius for help, you moved back again, pressing a hand against James’ forehead so he was forced to look up at you. “James, baby, I don’t think I can go again so quickly. I’m a little sensitive right now.” It's safe to say James looked a little heartbroken by this. For a moment, you were sure he was potentially too lost in his subspace, but thankfully, Sirius came to your rescue.

“If you want something to lick Prongs, I’ve got just the thing. Come on, Darling, sit back here and watch the fun”. Carefully holding onto Sirius, he helped you to sit back against the headboard, giving you another chaste kiss before unbuckling his belt.

James was just as eager for Sirius as you watched him kneeling next to the lying man and slowly thrust his cock into his mouth. There was nothing you found more highly erotic than watching your boyfriends kissing and touching one another as your fingers slipped beneath your skirt.

With each groan and slurp, your fingers circled your clit until you were designing against your own hand.

“Don’t cum”, Remus ordered, and at first, it was instinct to assume he was talking to you, but as you look down at James’ body towards the scarred man, you realise that his green eyes are entirely focused on the man who’s cock was in his mouth.

James tried to cry out but was muffled by Sirius’ member, still bobbing in and out of his mouth. You knew from the way his back was arching and fists clenching that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and it appears the others noticed this too as Sirius quickly came down James’ through. “That’s it, swallow it all. Good boy. Remember what Moony said, you can’t come yet”.

James swallowed everything Sirius gave him, but with his mouth now empty, he begged and begged to cum. “Please, I- I need to cum, I can’t hold it in”.

Sirius takes a moment to look you over and asks, “What do you think? Should we let him cum for being so good for us?” You were just opening your mouth to agree with Sirius when James suddenly cries out, eyes closing as he cums violently on Remus’ tongue.

The man moaned as much as James had as he, too, swallowed it all, looking pleased with James, not that James could see this as he continued to keep his eyes closed, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure. “I’m- I’m s-sorry, I tried, I re-really tried. I didn’t mean to”, James stuttered, his breathing coming out in quick rushes as he struggled to control himself.

It was clear to everyone else that James had become overwhelmed by it all, and as he was already in the neverending headspace with his submission, just like you would, he began to experience a subdrop. Before you could even reach for James, he was covering his face, trying to push away from both men and turning into the mattress beneath him.

“I’m sorry, I failed, I’m sorry”, he repeated repeatedly as he came close to hyperventilating. Your fingers delved into his thick hair, trying to calm him in any way possible.

“Baby, it’s okay. Listen to me, James. I don’t want you to talk; just take some deep breaths for us.” Your voice remains calm and reassuring.

James, though, continued to chant and hide himself away. Sirius now moves to kneel next to the bed so his face can be closer to James’. “James, Darling, I need you to listen to me carefull,y and you can’t do that if you’re shouting. That’s it. Take a deep breath for me through your nose and out through your mouth. You aren’t going to be punished, it’s ok that you came. I know today has been a lot for you; we shouldn’t have pushed you”.

It was then that you realised that James was worried that he’d be punished by Sirus or Remus for cumming without permission and why he was now experiencing a subdrop. Your main priority was making sure that James felt loved and safe.

“James, I love you; please turn over so we can look after you properly.” You tried to coax him while continuing to gently run over his head and the top of his back.

“Give him a little space, Love?” Remus’ calming yet authoritative voice asked as he moved up the bed. Sitting back with Sirius against the headboard once more, you watched as Remus, always the one to help the most in these situations, did what he did best, and that was to care.

Cupping the back of Remus, he was able also to wrestle his arm beneath James and lift him up, so he was now resting entirely against Remus’ chest. Rocking the two of them carefully, Remus continued to speak quietly to him. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to punish you tonight. I love you, and I need you to understand that. We just pushed you too fa,r like Sirius says, and we’re sorry for trying to edge you for so long. You’re safe; we love you and are still so proud of you.”

James’ breaths finally evened out to a slow, deep pace as he blinked up at Remus, who carefully removed his glasses so that he could wipe away the tears on James’ face. “How about we strip off, get under the sheets and cuddle for a bit? I know how much she wants to cuddle with you” Remus nods in your direction.

“Please, James, come cuddle with me”. After what feels like a lifetime, you’re rewarded with James's small but tired smile. All four of you begin to remove your clothing with your back resting against the pillows; James half lays his toned chest over your body until his face is innocently pressed against your breasts.

Kissing his temple gently, you ask, “Better?”

“Much better, thank you Love”. You can’t help but sigh at hearing him say those words and appear more like himself. Sirius then coaxes James to drink some water and then yourself, whilst Remus breaks off a couple of cubes of chocolate for each of you.

“I just want to say, " Sirius begins to say, getting comfortable beneath the blankets and reaching for James’ hand. “I’m really proud of you today; you kicked Slytherin's ass, and I don’t think we’re done giving you rewards for that, by the way. Get some sleep, and I want first dibs on kissing that pretty little arse of yours tomorrow, and you can cum as many times as you like”.

James grins against your breast, his chest shaking with a light laugh. Then he slows to a deep sleep, and you stay awake for a bit longer, enjoying holding him in your arms.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #poly!marauders x reader #the marauders x reader #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin

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levisjinchuriki · 2 months ago

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truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro

part 1

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something.

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face.

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you.

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes.

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful.

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”.

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his.

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before.

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache.

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left.

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill.

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close.

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together.

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

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rotagnus · 18 days ago

Text

pick a pile: the upcoming month.

most of february will be spent recovering from a hard period of time in your life. i saw a lot of yellow and bright colors, so i think that you'll be having some soft joy in your life. you can expect to have a little bit of anxious energy, though, but to fix this i highly suggest finding/growing some kind of hobby, like writing poetry, journaling, doing yoga, meditating, or even spending time outside, just observing nature. i think that this month will mainly focus on yourself and existing connections rather than finding new people. i think you like to get new friends, you're a very bright and fluttery person, but you should invest some energy within yourself. spring will be eventful for you, but in order to prepare, you have to relax.

song: televangelism by ethel cain.

significance: appalachia, ethel cain, 111, 1212, fruit, small towns, possums, seeds, attics.

this month will be a month of travel. you're moving forwards, unlike pile 1; expect change. this pile is my strong pile. you may be the eldest, and you're a spitfire. you're a beautiful storm. it may be a bit of a harder month, and i see that some of you may deal with some seasonal depression. you tend to isolate yourself and push away people when you're feeling bad because you crack like an egg when you try to open up; you become very vulnerable and you view this as weakness. reach out for help. your circle is rooting for you, you just have to take the hand that they're extending for you. you can do this. try to get out of the house. experiment with your fashion. change your hairstyle. find a new type of makeup. some parts of this month may feel agonizingly slow--move past it by embracing boredom.

song: bloom for me by pearly drops.

significance: apples, french, 333, fender guitars, pink, marshmellows, shoulders, malls.

i think this pile will be focusing on a specific theme/person during this month. this is going to help you overcome some past trauma and will help you heal, as long as you take baby steps. there might be a person or a hobby or even a pet that will be your pillar of support. for some people, this will be yourself and the other person will come in later. you must take care of yourself. you're a very very special person. you have a good heart and your breath is your poetry. i think some of you have difficulty forgiving yourself. that's the first step of moving forwards. for the other person, make sure that the connection is not one-sided. this is going to revolutionize and change your path in a good way, but you have to trust your gut and follow your heart.

song: sorry by alex g / i will by mitski.

significance: dragons, orange, smiles, brown eyes, smoothies, butterflies, 666, the future, mango, college.

this is my first reading on this account--i had one before and deleted it because i was overwhelmed. i hope you are all doing well :) feedback is appreciated! let me know what topics you'd want me to do (i can do crushes and current love interests but no fs.) have a nice day and rest!

#pick a pile #pac reading #pick a card #tarot reading #love reading #tarot #divination #rotagnus

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solxamber · 5 days ago

Note

vil, romantic, "By Birthright" by glaive. for the valentines event.

thank you! i love your writings and hope you have a good day/night!

thank you! hope you like my take on it <3

"Yours, By Fate or By Choice" || Vil Schoenheit

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: By Birthright by glaive

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 890

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Vil was used to being loved.

No, not loved—admired. There was a difference.

He had been admired since the moment he first stepped into the limelight, sculpted into something unattainable, something people would whisper about in reverence but never truly touch. To be Vil Schoenheit meant to be adored from a distance, to be placed upon a pedestal so high that no one could see the cracks beneath the surface.

And yet, you never seemed to look at him like the rest of the world did.

It had unnerved him at first, the way you treated him normally, as if he were just another person rather than a name to be worshipped. You didn’t hesitate to scold him when he pushed himself too hard, nor did you hold back your laughter when he said something ridiculous. You never fawned over his beauty like others did, but you looked at him with something softer, something steadier, something real.

At first, he had thought you simply didn’t understand. That you hadn’t yet realized what being with him meant—the expectations, the scrutiny, the inevitable comparisons to whatever untouchable image the world had created for him.

So he waited.

For the moment you would hesitate. For the day you would begin to look at him with doubt, wondering if this was too much, if he was too much.

But that moment never came.

Instead, you stayed. You fit yourself into his world so easily, so naturally, that it left him reeling. Mornings with you wrapped in his sheets, complaining about the early hour but refusing to let go of his hand. Afternoons spent curled up beside him, reading while he worked, never demanding his attention but always there, a quiet, steady presence. Evenings where you pressed against his side at galas and public appearances, undeterred by flashing cameras and murmured gossip.

Your love was not the kind he was used to—loud, extravagant, built on expectations. It was simple, solid, given not because of what he was but because of who he was.

And that terrified him.

Because if your love was real, if it wasn’t something he had to earn, then what was stopping you from waking up one day and realizing he wasn’t enough?

The night it finally came to a head, the air was heavy with unsaid words.

You were seated beside him on the couch, one leg tucked beneath you, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone while he flipped through a script. The soft glow of the lamp cast golden light over your features, and for a moment, all Vil could do was stare.

You were beautiful. Not in the way the world demanded beauty to be—carefully curated, painfully refined—but in the way that made something ache inside his chest.

And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"I don’t understand you."

You blinked, setting your phone aside. "What do you mean?"

His grip on the script tightened. "I don’t understand how you can sit there and look at me like that. Like you see me."

Confusion flickered across your face. "Vil, I—"

"You say you love me," he interrupted, the words coming out sharper than intended. He turned to face you fully, violet eyes searching yours for something—hesitation, doubt, anything that would make sense of this. "Do you really mean it? Or is it just another thing people say when they think they know me?"

Your brows furrowed, and before he could retreat into himself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his with deliberate care.

"Of course I mean it," you said softly. Then, as if sensing the storm beneath his skin, you shifted closer, pressing your forehead against his. "I love you, Vil. Not the person in magazine covers, not the idol people worship. You."

He wanted to believe you. God, he wanted to. But belief had never come easily to him.

"You don’t have to say things just because—"

Your hands cupped his face, tilting it so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. "I love you," you repeated, each syllable deliberate, unwavering. "Not because I should, not because you’ve earned it, not because of some fate written in the stars. I love you because I chose to."

Something inside him broke.

It was such a simple truth, one he should have known, should have accepted. But it was different hearing it from you, from the one person who had never treated him as anything but Vil.

His throat felt tight. He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. And when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Then I’ll hold you to that."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "Good."

Vil had spent his whole life thinking love was something he had to fight for, something that could be taken away the moment he faltered.

But here you were, holding his hand, staying by his side, loving him without conditions or expectations.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe it.

It didn’t matter if the rest of the world saw him as untouchable, unreachable, forever performing.

Because you had chosen him. Not as a perfect idol, not as a destined love story, but as something real.

And as long as you were by his side, that was enough.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil

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stellarsecrets86 · 6 days ago

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Astro Observations 7:

Darkest placements in the birth chart

Readings Are Open. Here

(There are souls that don't just live—they survive, devour, and then rise from their graves.But some of them are touched by the Sun, others molded from shadow, and if any of those parts belong to your soul, no easy life should be your calling. You came to this earth for something a little bit hard, unsmiling, untouched, and all raw.You don't feel. You drown, you burn, you erupt-you consume. And if you learn to control your darkness, the world won't know what hit it.)

☉ Pluto conjunct Sun: Very tired of this transformation game, no? But let me give you two choices, one the younger you where people were mean to you, bullying you just for existing, other one the current you where devil won't even dare to look into your eyes. Which one will you choose? You aren't soft. You were birthed into fire, forced to survive it, and now you wield it like a blade. People fear you because they should. You don't just walk into a room-you change its gravity. You don't break, you don't bend. When you fall, you rise stronger, sharper. You are death and rebirth wrapped in skin.

☽ Lilith conjunction Moon: Darkness follows you, but it does not define you. You were never supposed to be fragile. You were supposed to be raw and primitive, a force of nature. You feel hard, love hard, exist unapologetically. They can say you are difficult, too much, too wild. They fear what they cannot control, and they will never control you. Mother's wound is deep. Female love feels conditional.

☽ Pluto opposite Moon: Your emotions are war zones. You feel it all, like an intensity that would decimate another's soul. Love is a war zone, trust a gamble, safety an illusion. People want to tame you, drown your depths in shallow waters. People will try to tame you, to drown your depths in shallow waters. Don't let them. Your emotions are your power, your fire, your truth.

☽ Saturn square Moon: You weren't nurtured, you were tested. You learned early that love had conditions, and warmth was something you earned, not an entitlement. Yet, you're steel wrapped in flesh, every wound a layer of armor, so you won't need any saving. You are the fortress, the survivor, the one who keeps standing long after all the rest fell.

♀ Medusa opposite Venus - You're feared for the thing that makes you beautiful. You're desired, possessive, and yet untamed. They'll seek to tame the thing about you that has become a gift to them-a strength-into a curse. You were never intended to be soft. You were intended to be powerful.

♂ Mars conjunct Pluto: There's war in your bones. Rage like a storm, power like a reckoning. People feel you before they see you. You don't ask for control-you take it. You don't seek destruction-but when you burn, there is nothing left but ash. Be careful with your fire; not everyone is built to survive it.

☉ Medusa conjunct Sun : Betrayed, exiled, and feared, you have lived the life of a villain in other people's stories without doing anything and you were crucified for being alive. Well, they only sharpened you, made you stronger. And now you're a legend. A force which will never be forgotten.

☉ Lilith conjunct Sun: They tried to silence you, to mold you, to break you. But you are untamed, ungovernable. A wildfire disguised as a person. You don't just take up space-you command it. Your existence alone is an act of defiance. Let them fear you. Let them whisper. You were never meant to belong, you were meant to lead.

♆ Neptune opposition Pluto: Your soul is ancient, stretched between illusion and revelation. You are the priest and the heretic, the mystic and the destroyer. People underestimate you, thinking you are lost in dreams. But you see through them. You see through everything. You are the keeper of secrets, the destroyer of lies.

♂ Lucifer conjunct Mars: Against all, you rebelled in heaven and forged your own paths. The arrogance appears to those who never know the fire, the hunger, or need to be something else entirely other than a mere follower-yourselves the leader, a revolution in action.

♀ VENUS SQUARE PLUTO: Love is not soft. It is hunger, an obsession to devour. You don't need to connect-you need to own, completely submit. Your love will change or it will destroy. You attract the broken and dangerous, those who see your fire and believe they can contain it. They can't.

♂ Mars opposite Saturn: An animal caged. A chained soldier. The hunger to fight is there, the power to break free, but something is holding you down- authority, karma, fate. Yet, it's patience that became your weapon. You weren't meant to have small fights in the first place. By the time you explode, this is for something far bigger-some world-shaking event.

♀ PERSEPHONE CONJUNCT PLUTO: You have been taken by the darkness, shaped by it, but you did not become it. You are both the queen and the captive, the innocent and the ruler. You walk between two worlds, and you hold the power of both.

☿ Mercury square Pluto: Your words don't just cut, they eviscerate. You see through people, their lies, their fears, their weaknesses. You don't waste time on small talk because you know that the truth is always buried beneath the surface. Be careful, your words can either heal or destroy. There is no in-between.

☽ Hekate conjunct Moon : You dream in prophecy. You feel the shift of energies before they materialize. You are the guide, the torchbearer, the one who sees what others refuse to acknowledge. The unknown is your home, and darkness does not make you afraid.

☉ URANUS OPPOSITE SUN: Lightning in human form. Born to break the system down, tear down walls, and be that disruption no one saw coming. The people say you're a rebel, but only because they cannot control you. You don't take the path; you make your own. And when the world catches up? You're already gone.

♀ NESSUS SQUARE VENUS: Love is entangled in the karmic cuts, echoes of betrayal, and obsession for you. You attract the ones who covet your light yet cannot retain it and those teaching you about pain before teaching love. But man, when you break free.you'll know a love nobody's gonna be able to take from you.

☽ Chiron square Moon: Pain is your mother tongue. You learned suffering before you learned love. But in your scars, something is divine. You are the healer, the guide, the one who walks through hell and comes back with maps. You were meant to hurt-but you were also meant to transcend.

☉ Nemesis opp Sun: You are karma incarnate. A reckoning. The one who unmasks the false kings, corrupt rulers, those who build empires on lies. Some will fear you. Others will worship you. But all will know you.

♄ Saturn conjunct Pluto: Power built from ruin. You know struggle, oppression, the weight of expectation. You have been forced to carry burdens that were never yours. But your strength is absolute. You don't just endure-you dominate. You are the architect of your own empire, built from the ashes of every battle you've survived.

☿ Hekate conjunct Mercury: You carry the voices of the dead, the whispers of the unseen. A mind crossroads between worlds. Drawn to what's unknown and mysteries that others fear. Trust your intuition; it has never been wrong.

[If you possess these aspects, you are not average. You are not created to play small. Your darkness is your sword. Use it.]

🪱🦂

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #birth chart #horoscope #intense astrology placement #dark astrology #astrology aspects #mercury in astrology #asteroids #asteroid #asteroifs in astrology #venus in astrology

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arieslost · 1 year ago

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cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 6 months ago

Text

feelings are scary. ( gregory house x reader )

gif belongs to me

He knew breaking up over a text message was the coward's way out, but there would be questions he didn't want to answer, uncomfortable feelings he tried to bury down and pretend didn't exist. Greg House didn't have healthy relationships. Especially not with a sexy ER nurse.

Before you started dating you were often lured to the clinic under false pretenses to see someone he considered interesting but it was just a way to see you. When his team failed to give him the answers he wanted, he would follow you around the ER and discuss his latest patient. You were always bubbly, smiling at his sarcastic remarks, and when he insulted your patients you always said, "Don't mind my friend here, he hasn't had his caffeine fix for the day."

You never turned him away. You were never exasperated by the amount of times he managed to trick you and when you started dating he realized you always knew it was a ruse, and went along with it anyway because you wanted to see him too.

Greg House didn't maintain healthy relationships. But for four blissful months, you did. And it terrified him.

Saying I love you opened doors he had long since locked. You admitted that you didn't need him to say it, but you wanted him to know how you felt. The next day you received his termination of your relationship and were stunned by how curt it was.

Once the knife stopped twisting, you realized you had expected this reaction and decided to give him time and space. For a week you pushed your feelings down, focusing on your job, and while he didn't visit you in the ER or get you to meet him somewhere in the hospital, you had felt the weight of his gaze more than once. He might not have spoken to you, but he still stopped by.

You did everything you could to stop thinking about the department head. Until a car crash victim died and everything came bubbling to the surface. You tore off your gloves and changed in the locker room, washing off the blood, and slumped on the bench, fending off tears that dried up as anger set in at how unfair it was that an eighteen-year-old was dead from a drunk driver.

When you made it to his department you noticed him on the balcony talking to James and stormed outside, gaining their attention.

"Uh, Y/N, h-hi -"

"Go away, Wilson."

"Right-o." He made a swift exit as House sighed, turning to look out at the view, resting his hands on the wall.

"I thought you'd crack sooner -"

"Shut up." You barked.

House raised an eyebrow, turning to look at you and seeing the tears in your eyes.

"You are an arrogant gasbag." His eyebrows rose at the insult as you were docile by nature. "What gives you the right to tell me how to feel? You don't. Do you think falling for you wasn't scary for me? Feelings are scary, Greg, and they feel like crap and sometimes they feel great and everything is butterflies and rainbows until an ego-maniac decides to stab you in the heart because he can't let himself be happy."

House listened quietly as you moved around, gesturing wildly with your hands.

"I know you are a gigantic pain in the ass. I know you're cynical. I know you use humor to keep people at arm's length but for a second, I thought that maybe you would finally let me in the door. And then you avoid me like I have the plague like a middle-grader! I mean, what the hell?"

You stopped pacing, finally meeting his gaze, and took a moment to catch your breath.

"Can I talk now?"

You rolled your jaw, nodding reluctantly.

"Come here."

You walked closer and when you were within arms reach, he brought you to his chest, kissing you hotly. You melted into his chest as he kept his balance by leaning on the wall. His arms wrapped around you, and the scent of his cologne made tears prick your eyes from how comforting it was.

The passionate kiss was the closest thing you would get to a confession. And right now that was enough.

#gregory house #gregory house x reader #greg house #greg house x reader #house m.d.

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uglypastels · 6 months ago

Note

omg what about Logan being like the softest with a sensitive/shy reader. Idk in what context like maybe she’s just overwhelmed with life and kinda closed off in terms of voicing what’s wrong and you know he’s usually very stoic but he’s the BIGGEST softy. Totally not projecting btw.

YEsss Logan is such a fucking softie, no matter how hard he'd want to try and hide it. thank you for being my first request for this fandom i hope i can do it some justice 🫶 and pleeease, we love to project here so please, go right ahead.

warnings: darkness. anxiety. loneliness. alcohol. fem!reader. reader's mutation specified. mentions of past [implied toxic] relationship. so some angst but also bunch of fluff at the end. also please don't come for me if he's a bit out of character. this is my first time writing Logan so it will be trial and error.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

It was the dead of the night. Quite literally. All around you was so quiet and dark that the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. All you heard was the floorboards creaking under your footsteps as slivers of moonlight illuminated your path through the corridors of the mansion. It was the rare instance that you felt at peace.

Yes, you knew almost as soon as you stepped inside the large building and saw all these mutants walking around happily and carelessly that you had found a true safe haven, and yet, months later, you still had not found your bearings. It did not help that you were not exactly in the age bracket of most of the residents here. Having the mansion double as a school meant most of the mutants were in that school-going age range, and while they were lovely (for the most part), you had no desire to befriend children. Then, those who you felt more drawn to socially, like Storm or Jean, were all apart of that special ops team, which always left them busy, if not completely absent, while away on missions.

Thus, most of your days went by in solitude. Something you had gotten used to throughout your life. Over the years it had become natural for you to simply disappear into your surroundings. Wether you wanted to or not, people simply overlooked you. In hindsight, it explained your mutation perfectly… or was that just an aftereffect of it? You had always wondered if it was one’s personality that influenced the mutation or the other way around.

Either way, for you, it all merged into one dark abyss.

By now, you had gotten a hang of all the floor plans of the giant building, especially the route between your room and the kitchens.

You hadn’t checked the clock when you got out of bed, but it must have been around 2 am, if not later. You didn’t expect anyone to be up at this ungodly hour. Especially not walking out of the dark kitchen exactly as you were coming through the threshold. The two of you bump, chest to chest, and the contact immediately made you burst out in a high-pitched scream. From the other side of the impact, you heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a blade being pulled. That was enough for your flight or fight mode to activate. You almost choked on the deep breath you took. The blade swung in your direction, but it only slashed the air where you once stood.

‘Who’s there?’ it was a male voice. Hard and deep, almost wild. In your other form, your eyes adapted much better to the dark, and so you could see him looking around himself wildly. You counted the sharp appendages in his hands— no, they were coming out of his arms— six long claw-like blades ready to impale the very first thing that’d move.

There was no doubt about it that this must have been the infamous Logan everyone around the mansion talked about. From what you had heard, he had been away for almost a year on some top-secret assignment for the Professor, but now he had apparently returned.

And what a comeback he has made, nearly stabbing you in the hallway.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated his question louder, still looking around.

‘Just me.’ Your voice came out as the exact opposite of his, soft and weak, and you immediately regretted your words. Just me, as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

But it must have done the trick, as Logan retracted his claws. His shoulders visibly slacked at the lack of imminent danger.

‘Well, Me, you can come out of hiding. I’m not gonna hurt ya,’ he grumbled, ‘let me just turn the light on–’

‘Wait!’ You squeezed your eyes shut and let the cool air of the night brush over your bare arms. When you opened them again, all you could see was Logan’s large frame standing inside the kitchen, most likely hovering over the light switch, surprised at your sudden call.

‘Sorry, you can uhm– turn the lights on now.’ And like that, with a quiet flick, the kitchen illuminated with a soft orange glow.

Logan’s eyes were immediately on you, scanning you up and down for any sign of recognition, but you already knew there would be none. Even if he had ever seen you before, there never was.

‘Do I know you?’ he cocked his head with the question, and all you could do was shake your head.

‘I doubt it.’ No one knew you, but that didn’t feel like a smart response.

‘Care to introduce yourself, Bub?’ He leaned against the wall with the light switch, and maybe it was his overall greatness as he practically towered over you, but you felt a rush of heat fall over your face as he looked down at you in expectance. Awkwardly, you pushed out the sounds that formed your name, with a bonus of an extended hand for him to shake.

‘And you must be Logan, right?’

He confirmed your suspicion with a grunt as he took your hand, squeezed firmly, but not painfully, and shook it once. Then, silence fell between you.

Two strangers who met in a complete, nearly fatal accident. It was only to be expected you would have nothing to say to one another. But you were, after all both awake this late in the night, and that was enough to compel you to talk.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Just got back, actually.’ His eyes glanced to your side and that is when you noticed the duffel bag that lay in the corridor. Then, only when you looked back at him did you take in what he was wearing. Not the expected gym shorts or sweatpants with an old shirt. Instead, Logan was dressed in a black button-up under a dark motorcycle jacket. With that, he had a boot cut-jeans and the boots to match. From the tiny dark dotted pattern on his shoulders and the light pitter-pattering that was occurring outside, it was visible he had just come from out of the rain.

Immediately, a parade of questions entered your mind. Where had he been? Why did he come back so late? What was he doing in the kitchen? And so much more, though none of it would leave your mouth as you doubted he would talk to you about his secret mission.

‘You alright?’ His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and you realised how you must have looked. Staring up at him with wide eyes, not saying a single thing. Another heat flare hit your cheeks.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

He cocked his head in an examinatory fashion. The disbelief evident in his eyes.

‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

‘Relatively,’ you shrugged. ‘Got here a few months ago.’

‘Parents kicked you out?’ He assumed the most common backstory that comes with the residents of the mansion.

‘Not exactly,’ you kept your response short. After all, you could hardly tell a stranger you just met that your boyfriend had kicked you out of your shared apartment when he found out about your genetic abnormality. You had never been sure how he would have reacted, but the events that unfolded were even beyond your imagination. But the past was the past, and you didn’t want to dwell on it. The important part was that not a day after this conversation, you were crying in your car with nowhere to go. It was by chance that weeks after your break-up/eviction, you stumbled into some other mutants who told you about the Professor. You weren’t too sure about going to seek shelter at a school of all places, but in reality, the Academy was much more than that. Though it did give you the perfect opportunity to safely train your abilities.

That and so much more was what went through your head, but you didn’t say any of that to Logan. Why would you? He didn’t know you. He didn’t care about your problems, and you didn’t blame him for it.

On the contrary, you appreciated that he didn’t press you for more details. When you answered the way you did, he simply nodded in understanding and made his way over to the fridge. The blue glow illuminated his tense features. Strange, for a man who had been a year on the go on some secret spy adventure, you would have expected him to return at least a bit beaten up. But besides maybe some signs of a bad sleep schedule, no form of strain was visible on his face.

‘You want something?’ he looked over at you, making you realise you had been, in fact, staring and not very subtly either.

‘I’m good, thanks.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he went back to inspecting the contents of the fridge before sighing with disappointment. ‘They still don’t have anything stronger around here?’

‘Oh, if you’re looking for beer–’ you walked over to a cabinet at the other end of the kitchen. You tapped a corner, and a small code pad appeared. You tapped in the code, and the cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked mini-bar. ‘Scott had it installed over the summer,’ you explained when you saw Logan’s confused expression.

‘Explains the babyproofing.’ He walked over, and you handed him a cool bottle of beer.

‘Well, it is a school after all.’ You held in a smile as the thought occurred to you that the kids might not have been the only ones who weren’t supposed to know about the secret compartment. The rivalry between Cyclops and the Wolverine was known all too well around the whole campus, even for newcomers such as yourself.

Logan smirked, taking his beer. You were about to offer a bottle opener, but he hit the neck of the bottle against the edge of the table and with a pop and a clink, the cap came right off.

‘Here,’ he exchanged your bottles, giving you the open one. You watched him repeat his actions with the second drink. Your eyes were still on him as he chugged down half of the beer in one go. He probably could have downed the whole thing if it wasn’t for his look down at you, most likely noticing your entranced look.

‘That staring a part of your powers, too, then?’ he commented, and the acknowledgement immediately made you turn your head in the direction of the window.

‘Sorry. I just— I tend to do that, I guess.’ You wrinkled your nose. Being on your own around so many people, you had gotten used to people watching, observing them from a distance like a show on TV that you kept on for the background noise.

‘What do you do, anyway?’ He asked bluntly, ‘I thought I had done you in good back there.’

‘You would have,’ you chuckled, remembering just how close his claws had come into contact with you. ‘It’s hard to explain. I just kind of—’ You noticed the shadow that fell over the floor from the table and lightly grazed it with the tip of your toe. With a deep breath, the world in front of you changed. Except the exact opposite was the truth. ‘Disappear.’ You finished the sentence, punctuated by your new state.

Logan’s eyes widened as you disappeared in front of his eyes. Where the shock came from, he couldn’t explain. He had encountered these sorts of mutants before. But this felt different than regular invisibility or teleportation. With his heightened senses, he could always detect those sorts of hijinks. No one ever disappeared to him. But you— as soon as you had faded away, it was as if you had completely fallen off the face of the earth. Not a single trace of you lingered behind. When you spoke, just as you had in the hallway, your voice didn’t seem to be coming from one place. It was all around him, almost like a whisper, a voice inside his own head.

With a blink of an eye, you reappeared before him. Just as you had stood there moments before.

‘There’s not really a name for this, I think; at least no one around here could come up with anything that made sense.’ Not that you had any conversations that made people interested enough to do the research. ‘But from my own understanding, I kind of become one with the shadows.’

‘And what about the light?’ he recalled your yelp when he had tried to turn on the light.

‘I merge with the dark, and so when new light sources interfere… it’s not pretty.’

Logan simply nodded as he took the last swig of his beer.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, you leaning against the counter and he against the large table.

‘You’re doing it again, Bub.’ He smirked, calling out your lost stare.

‘Sorry,’ you hadn’t even realised you were doing it. You had just been looking around the room and may have, perhaps, accidentally lingered a look at his frame for a few seconds. And then you caught sight of his hands. More specifically, his knuckles. There was a faint pink glow on the skin, but besides that, you would never be able to tell that deadly claws could grow out from there. You blinked. ‘Sorry.’ You were doing it again. Quickly, you drank the rest of your beer. The bitter taste lingered in your throat, suffocating the burning questions that you wanted to ask.

‘Spill it out.’ He hit you by surprise with the command.

‘Uh–what?’

You knew there were plenty of mindreaders around, but you had not thought it was one of Logan’s abilities. ‘How did you–’

‘It’s all in your face, sweetheart. You think just ‘cause you’re quiet, you’re hard to read, don’t you.’ His assumption left you a bit stunned. It wasn’t that you had thought exactly that, but more so that you never considered that you were making any expressions that were that easy to interpret, as you never really had anyone pay that much attention to you to point it out.

‘If you want to say something, just say it.’ Logan said the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. ‘If you’re wondering if it hurts,’ he looked down at his knuckles, ‘it hurts just as any other one-foot-long knife cutting through skin.’

‘That’s awful.’ You gasped, considering what it must be like to have such a mutation that inadvertently harmed you any time you used it.

‘You get used to it after a while.’

Another round of silence. This time, the longer it went on, the more you started thinking how you must be inconveniencing him. With the beers drank, there was little for you both to still be doing here, but also didn’t want to be rude by just up and leaving. After all, you didn’t know Logan very well.

‘You sure you’re alright?’ He asked, coming out from behind the table.

‘Yeah.’ You tried to smile but could tell it probably did not reach your eyes. Logan moved with a sense of apprehension, unsure of how to approach you. Being a year on the road, not to mention the years of solitude before he had joined the Professor’s team, had not exactly prepared him for these kinds of situations. He didn’t know the right things to do or to say. But to you, just his presence was enough. Just him being there, talking, or in this case, just seeing you, was more than you could have asked for. ‘I’m good.’

And yet, ironically, though you had actually meant it for once, you really did feel alright, but something about the situation caused tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that made you overly sensitive. Or the alcohol.

You blinked the tears away and smiled awkwardly. ‘It’s just been a long day.’ or week. Month. Year. How about your entire life?

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ There was that quirk in his lip again, that ghost of a smile. And you couldn’t figure out if his response was just a sarcastic quip, understandably referring to his past days, which you were sure did not consist of a walk in the park. Or did he actually mean it, and he did want you to tell him more? Well, your moment of contemplation brought on another wave of silence, and the heavier it fell, the worse you felt to go back to your problems.

The sudden sound of footsteps pulled you back into your world. People must be slowly waking up; meanwhile, you hadn’t had an hour of sleep yet, and the effect of that started to hit.

‘I should— should probably go.’ You muttered, taking small steps in the direction of the door.

‘Well, the offer always stands.’ Logan followed you with his eyes, turning in his spot as you passed by him. See you around, Nightshade.’

‘What?’ the nickname caught you off-guard, stopping you in your tracks.

‘Sorry,’ Logan winced, ‘I don’t know—’ that’s what he gets for trying to be cute.

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it.’ Your smile finally found its full form. A “thank you” almost slipped past it, but you held yourself back. It felt too cheesy to get all sentimental about something as silly as a nickname. Especially since he didn’t know what it meant for you. He didn’t need to know didn’t think you’d ever belong amongst these people enough to get a moniker.

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all, maybe he had just said it as a mindless comment on your powers. Or maybe not. Maybe he had really tried hard to put that smile on your face.

You would never know.

Unless you took that one small step. Because, of course, all you had to do was ask, just like he had told you, but maybe another time. For now, you just bid him farewell, hoping for that next opportunity to certainly come sooner than later.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

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cowboybeepboop · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Surrender

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Romantic smut, kind of angsty at some parts idk

Word count: 6k

Summary: You're apart of storm par and just so happen to get on the nerves of Scott, which truly isn’t that difficult of a task. But as much as you get on his nerves, he gets on yours. One day he takes things a little too far which leads to an interesting encounter.

a/n: I’m gonna be so fr and say that I’m not so sure how to portray Scotts personality but I do like the idea of taming the grumpy character with a sunshine character. I’m currently working on a couple different Scott ideas. Also if you have any request just let me know. Hope you enjoy!

You’re Javi’s childhood best friend, following him all the way from Miami to Oklahoma. The warning everyone gave you was to not follow a man rather than your dreams, but they just didn’t get it, he’s not a man. He’s your best friend and you were always going to follow him because it just wouldn’t feel right without him.

The one thing that made you want to run in the opposite direction was Scott. You don’t know how they ended up as friends in the first place and you hated the way he treated people.

You always make sure to take Javi to clean up towns, even though Scott is against it. You help Javi find which storm to follow (call it natural instinct or an early childhood fascination with storm chasing), even though Scott always pushes to go in the opposite direction.

The list can go on and on but the point being that Scott gets on your nerves. You’ve always been an absolute angel to him, well as much as humanly possible, you pride yourself on being kind. It doesn’t cost a thing to be kind, well, at least that’s your motto in life.

Being on the road with Javi (and Scott) has proven to be more than difficult, the highlight being when you get to meet up with Tyler Owens and his crew. He has quite the southern charm and they’re all pretty nice once they get over the whole storm par thing.

It’s around noon when you finally stop at the gas station, you hop out of the vehicle with a bounce in your step as you’re finally able to stretch your legs. The rest of the team pulls in parking around Javi’s truck. Scott steps out of his van and Javi calls him over, you silently curse him under your breath, preparing a smile for the unfortunately cold man.

Scott approached the group as you muttered under your breath, a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he heard your subtle discontent.

“Hey man, we’re gonna get some snacks and take a restroom break, then hit the road again.” Javi says as Scott nods along, his gaze flickering to you, meeting your forced smile with a look of indifference.

"Sounds fair," Scott replied, his voice lacking enthusiasm. “But are we just stopping so princess over here can get her snacks?” he says with coldness in his voice. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No,” you try to keep your usual smile, “Javi is hungry too, right?” You turn to him, nudging his shoulder.

Javi glanced over to Scott then to you, he returned your smile with a soft grin, silently enjoying how Scott's jaw slightly clenched. Javi nodded in agreement, standing by your side. "Yeah, definitely could use some fuel. And snacks." he said.

Scott rolled his eyes, his arms crossing against his chest. "Whatever. I could use a break too, I guess." he muttered. Just as Scott finishes his sentence you all hear the blasting of Tyler’s music as he pulls into the parking lot.

Your smile brightens as you turn to the noise, “Tylers here!” You say to Javi “I’m gonna go say hi, then we can meet up inside.” Your tone is cheerful as you bound off toward Owens, your skirt and hair moving in sync.

Scott's gaze followed you as you walk off towards Tyler, a small scowl on his face as your skirt swirled around you. Javi chuckled, shaking his head while watching Scott.

"Someone's happy to see Tyler," Javi teased, noticing the slight frown on Scott's face.

Scott rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure. She's just too cheerful for her own good."

Javi smirked, "Jealous, Scott?" he said with a hint of mockery in his voice. They both watch as you smile up at Tyler, your arm finding its way into his as he walks toward the door of the shop.

Scott's eyes narrow, a pang of jealousy coursing through him as you linked arms with Tyler. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his cool demeanor, and turned to Javi.

"Well that didn't take long. Didn't expect her to cling onto him so quickly." he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Javi just responds with a roll of his eyes, knowing that’s just how you are with someone you’re comfortable with.

”Bye Ty,” you wave to him, finding your way back in front of both Scott and your best friend. “Javi, look at what Tyler bought me.” You smile as you show your snacks to him. Javi chuckled, amused by your childlike excitement as you showed off your stash. He was used to your enthusiasm, and it was something he secretly found endearing.

Javi chuckled, admiring your collection. "Looks like you had a successful shopping spree."

Scott interjects, his tone dry. "That's one way to put it. Or, she's just freeloading off him." he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at your animated display.

“No,” you seethe, your demeanor changing for a second before you reel it back in.”I bought him some water bottles for his team to hand out, that’s what we were talking about earlier.” You smile at Javi, ignoring Scott as you start walking back to the truck.

As you turn away, Scott rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff as he followed behind you. Javi glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension, and silently followed behind.

Scott leaned against his van, his arms crossed as he muttered under his breath. "Sure, water bottles. Definitely not just flirting with the ‘tornado wrangler’." You shoot him a tense look.

“First, I wouldn’t have to buy him anything if I was trying to flirt,” You cross your arms under your breasts. “Second, I’m not flirting with him, he’s just a sweetheart.” Scott smirked at your response, his gaze flickering down to your chest before meeting your eyes.

His arms stayed crossed, a cocky grin forming on his face. "A sweetheart, huh?" His tone was dripping with sarcastic mockery. "Of course, that's why you're buying him water bottles. Just being a sweetie."

Javi silently watched the exchange, his eyes flickering between you both, feeling the tension thicken in the air. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “Well, I do enjoy the company of someone who’s kind and a sweetheart, especially over a jerk like yourself.” With that you get in the passenger seat of Javi’s truck, slamming the door loudly.

Scott's smirk widened into a smug grin as you slammed the truck door, enjoying how you reacted to his taunt. He leaned against his van, clearly amused, and let out a soft chuckle.

Javi shot Scott a glare before quickly climbing into the driver's seat next to you. He looked at you with concern and then looked back at his friend. "Way to go Scott," he muttered sarcastically Scott responds with a shrug.

“He’s a real dick,” you say to Javi as you pull out the coke Tyler bought you.

“Yeah, I know. But you’ve gotta stop letting him rile you up like that.” He responds, his hand patting your shoulder as he starts the car.

Once the excitement of the chase was over and the tornado died out, you brought the team to the small town to help clean up. You stayed back with Tyler's team to help them get necessities to the people.

Scott watched as you worked alongside Tyler's team, his arms folded across his chest, and leaned against Javi's truck. He had his usual scowl on his face, clearly displeased with the situation.

"Can't believe she's sticking with them," he muttered, his eyes flickering towards you from time to time.

Javi glanced at Scott, then back at you, his expression neutral. "She's just helping out, Scott. They need the help." Tyler's hand goes to your back as he whispers into your ear, telling you to go get some rest after the rough day.

Scott's gaze immediately goes to Tyler's hand as it lingered on your back, his jaw clenching tightly. You nod, saying goodbye to the whole team, grabbing your water bottle as you head over to Javi.

Scott stays silent as you approach them, his eyes darting between you and Tyler whose gaze remained on you. Your bright smile being replaced with a half one as you get them. “Javi, Scott, how’s everything going?”

Javi glances at Scott before answering, noticing the tension between you two. "We're almost done here. Just cleaning up the rest of the town," he said. Your eyes fall to the damage around you as you pick at your fingernails anxiously.

Scott remained quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone cold and sarcastic. "And you're leaving already? Thought you'd have stayed the night with the ‘tornado wrangler’."

Your eyes narrow as your sweetness finally dropped. “Scott what the fuck is your problem,” your eyes brim with tears, you’re just exhausted from the day and all his antics, “you’ve seen all of this damage and you’re still as cruel as ever.” You bite out bitterly.

Scott's gaze darkened at your emotional response, his arms still folded across his chest. He seemed unfazed by your anger, a look of indifference on his face. "My problem?" he retorted coldly. "Maybe my problem is that you're too caught up in helping those storm chasers, instead of sticking with us."

Javi stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, "Scott, don't-”

Scott cut him off, his attention now fully on you. "I'm just being honest. Stop fawning over Tyler and remember who your real team is here." Your tears fall from your eyes as you step back from him.

“Fuck you, asshole.” Your body trembles as tears stream down your face, Javi pulling you into his chest rubbing your back intimately.

Scott's expression softened slightly at the sight of your tears, his gaze flickering from you to Javi holding you against his chest. Javi shot Scott a cold glare before turning his full attention to you, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Hey, don't let him get to you," Javi whispered, trying to soothe you as his eyes narrowed at Scott. He opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly closed it, realizing that anything he said right now would only worsen the situation.

He was taken aback by your reaction and the way Javi was holding you, regret fills him as he watches you shakily move from Javi. Your hands and voice are shaky as you wipe your tears from your cheeks “I think I’m gonna get a ride back from Ty..” your voice trails off.

Javi calls out to you, his voice stern but concerned. “Hey, wait-”

Scott interrupts, his tone softer than before. “Y/N, hold on-”

But you ignore their calls, your steps becoming brisk as you make your way to Tyler’s truck, your arms wrapped around yourself, seeking comfort.

Javi looks at Scott, his eyes filled with disappointment, a disapproving scowl on his face. “Scott, you have a funny way of showing how much you like her.” Tyler pulls you into a comforting hug, his arms around your neck as you hold his waist. Your tears soaking his white shirt as you try to explain that you’re just crying because you’re exhausted.

“You’re just sending her off into the arms of another man, whose intentions might not be so pure.” Javi’s voice is harsh as he watches the interaction while shaking his head.

Scott's expression hardens at Javi's words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "As if her intentions are any better." he shot back, jealousy and irritation seeping into his voice.

Javi lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "That's not the point, Scott. Just look at her." he says, gesturing to you as Tyler opens the passenger door for you. "You've hurt her more than you realize."

You sigh as you get into his truck, “Thank you again Tyler,” you smile up at him but your eyes stay teary.

“Don’t even worry about it sweetheart, things seemed pretty heated. I’m just glad to get you away from that.” He starts the ignition giving you a small smirk. “So, how about we hit up the bar next to the motel? Get you cheered up.”

“That sounds like a great idea” your smile reaches your eyes as he pulls off.

Your irritation continues to build as you sip on your whiskey, a scowl taking the place of your usual sweetness. “Scott is a dick.” You say in a cool tone, your arms crossing.

“Is he why you’re so worked up?” Lily questions as she orders herself another cocktail.

”Unfortunately..” you grumble before taking another sip.

“I don’t know why you guys keep him around or why you let him get you all hot and bothered like this.” She says with amusement in her voice.

“I don’t” you protest, your eyebrows furrowing, she laughs in response.

”Oh really?” Your fingers fumble with your glass, “Do you hate him or is it something more?” She teases.

You gasp as Boone laughs, “Maybe you should go argue with him some more,” he motions to your drink. “Now that you have liquid courage.”

”You’re right. I should go talk some sense into that thick skull of his.” You say with newfound confidence.

You shoot Javi a text asking him which room Scott is staying in. He responds rather quickly, making sure to tell you to play nice.

“I’ve got it, I’m gonna go give him a piece of my mind.” The pair laugh at your remark as you down the rest of your drink. Grabbing your jacket you leave the establishment, thinking about all the things you’re gonna yell at him as you walk to his motel room.

You knock against the door roughly, Scott is sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s deep in thought and frustration, nursing a beer, when he hears the knock on his door. His eyes narrow, wondering who it could possibly be.

He gets up and makes his way to the door, opening it. Scott looks at you, his eyes slightly widened at the surprise of you standing outside his room, a stern and determined look on your face. He knew this conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.

"What do you want?" Scott asks, leaning against the doorframe, pretending to be unaffected by your presence. You push your way into his room, slamming your shoulder in his arm. You plop onto the mattress with your arms crossed over your stomach.

“I want you to apologize.” You throw your left leg over your right. Scott lets out a huff of annoyance, clearly unamused by your unexpected and blunt demand.

He lets the door close behind him as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What are you, five?" he retorts, a slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips. "You barge into my room uninvited, just to demand an apology?"

”Yes, I want you to apologize to me.” You keep a stoic expression, no longer extending kindness his way, which frustrates him even more. Scott looks down at you, his smirk fading as you maintain your cold expression.

He's not used to seeing you so serious, and it only serves to irritate him further. "And why should I apologize to you, princess? I didn’t do anything wrong." he replies, his tone still biting.

He steps closer to the bed, his arms still crossed over his chest. The annoyance in his eyes becomes more apparent as you refuse to back down. You stand up and poke your pointer finger into his chest, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You did do something wrong and you know it.” You spit out. Scott's eyes narrow as you poke him in the chest, annoyance rolling off of him in waves. He swats your hand away, gripping your wrist and holding it tightly.

"And what exactly did I do wrong?" he says back, his voice low and firm as he steps closer to you. "As far as I'm concerned, I just stated the truth." You shove his shoulder with your free hand pushing him onto the bed.

“Oh yeah?” You retort, “You weren’t being honest you were being a total douche.” Scott grunts as he makes contact with the bed, surprise flashing in his eyes. He looks up at you, sitting on the edge of the mattress, frustration written all over his face.

He scoffs at your comment, bristling at your insult. "Being a douche? I was just being real. You’re always so focused on those other storm chasers and you don’t even notice what's right in front of you."

He grabs your wrist once again, pulling you down onto the bed beside him. “And what’s right in front of me, huh?” You yank your arm away while glaring up at him. Scott lets go of your wrist, his eyes locking onto yours as you glare up at him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes briefly before answering you.

"Me, dumbass," he retorts coldly. He lets out an exasperated huff as his eyes flick across your face. "I'm right in front of you. And yet for some reason you keep swooning over Owens."

Your eyes widen with surprise as his words cause a blush to creep up your cheeks. “Tyler?” You question Scott, your eyebrows furrowing. Scott notices the blush creep across your cheeks, he smirks seeing your flustered response. He raises an eyebrow at your question.

"Yeah, Tyler. Ring a bell?" He taunts. "You always hang around him, buy him food and water, and give him those sweet little smiles." he states dryly, his voice dripping with jealousy and irritation.

He reaches out, his large hand grabbing your thigh, his thumb slowly rubbing against the smooth flesh. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You say biting your lip as his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Scott's eyes darken at your question, his grip on your thigh tightening as a pang of annoyance and jealousy shoots through him.

He swallows before responding, his tone gruff and sarcastic, "Jealous?" he retorts. "Of Tyler Owens? Why would I be jealous of that pretty boy wannabe storm chaser?" He lets his hand run further up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your short skirt.

”It sounds like you’re a bit worked up.” You groan out, your body tingling in reaction to his hand. Scott smirks at your reaction, his hand continues to move further and further up your thigh, slowly and deliberately.

He notices the way your body responds to his touch, relishing in the effect he’s having on you. He leans in close so his breath fans against your skin. “Worked up?” he repeats, his voice low and sultry. “And why would I be worked up, princess?”

”Maybe because you’re thinking about Tyler having the same kind of thoughts about me as you do…” You tease him, your hand sliding up his toned arm. Scott's breath catches in his throat as your hand runs up his arm, the muscles in his body tensing in response.

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenching tightly, as a surge of jealousy washes over him at your mention of Tyler. He turns on the bed to face you fully, his hand on your thigh moving to grip your waist, pulling you closer. "Watch your mouth, princess." he warns, his voice a low growl as he leans down towards you, his face mere inches from yours.

”And why should I?” You say with mischief in your voice, “You never watch your mouth when it comes to me.” Scott's eyes narrow, a fire igniting within him as you challenge him. He grips your waist pulling you even closer to him, your bodies nearly pressing against each other.

He leans down so his lips hover over your ear, his voice a rough whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "If you keep talking like that, princess, I might have to shut that pretty mouth of yours."

”What if I’d like that?” You flick your tongue out to wet your bottom lip. Scott lets a deep chuckle rumble through his chest as he watches your tongue dart out to wet your lip, the action only fueling the desire burning within him.

He grips your hip, his hands roughly pulling you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. He runs his hand up the expanse of your bare thigh, his fingers brushing against the edge of your skirt.

He looks at you, his gaze dark and intense as he replies huskily, “Careful what you wish for, princess.” You grind your hips down on his, trying to further tease him as your arms find their way around his neck.

Scott lets out a guttural groan as you grind against him, his grip on your body tightens reflexively, pulling you against him even harder. He leans in, his lips mere millimeters from your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck.

His hands move further under your skirt, his calloused fingers trailing up the inside of your thighs slowly and torturously. "Playing with me still?" he growls in your ear, his voice thick with desire.

”It’s my way of getting back at you,” Scott lets out a huff as you push his shoulders, his body falling back onto the bed. He looks up at you, a mix of surprise and arousal in his eyes as you straddle him, pinning him to the bed.

He lets out a low growl, his hands reaching up to grip your hips, holding you in place. His thumbs move in circles against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Is that right, princess?" he huffs, his voice strained with desire. "You finally fighting back?"

”I am,” you lean down to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna get you back for everything.” You say teasingly as you slip off of him, heading for the door. Scott's eyes widen as you slide off his lap, panic and desperation creeping into his gaze as you make your way to the door.

He sits up quickly, reaching out and grabbing your wrist before you can reach the door handle. His grip is firm, not willing to let you go just yet. "Where do you think you're going, princess?" he growls, pulling you back towards him.

”Not so eager to let me go this time?” You question with amusement, a smile creeping over your lips. Scott yanks you back onto the bed, pinning you underneath him in one swift motion. His body weight presses against yours, trapping you against the mattress.

He looks down at you, a mixture of annoyance and desire in his eyes. "Did you really think I'd let you walk out that door?" he huffs, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them down beside your head.

"You're not going anywhere." he murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw, to your neck, then your collarbone. The sudden shift in power dynamics sends a jolt of excitement through your body as you feel his weight pressing you down into the bed.

You struggle slightly, not with fear but with a thrill that you never knew you enjoyed. "Scott, what are you doing?" you breathe out, your voice a mix of surprise and challenge.

His eyes are dark and focused on yours as he leans closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Teaching you a lesson, princess," he murmurs before his lips find yours in a fiery kiss that leaves you gasping for more.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming it as his own, and you can't help but kiss him back with a passion that matches his.

As Scott's kisses grew more tender, his asshole demeanor began to slip away, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. He started to undress you, his movements urgent but not rough.

You could feel his hands shaking slightly as he unbuttoned your shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. He slid it off your shoulders, exposing your lacy bra.

His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. You felt a strange mix of excitement and vulnerability under his gaze, but the alcohol and your own pent-up frustrations gave you the courage to let him continue.

He leaned down to kiss your neck, his breath hot and sweet from the beer he had been drinking, sending tingles down your spine. His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, fumbling slightly as he tried to undo it, a hint of awkwardness peeking through his usually cocky exterior.

Despite everything, you found yourself eager to see where this would lead, your body responding to his touch in ways it never had to anyone else's.

As Scott's hands continue to explore your body, he finally unclasps your bra, revealing your soft, round breasts. His gaze lingers on them for a moment before he leans down to kiss and suck on your hardened nipples, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

You feel his arousal pressing against you, making you even more eager for what's to come. He then slides your skirt down, his eyes taking in the sight of your matching lacy panties.

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slowly pulls them down, revealing your wetness. His eyes darken with desire as he licks his lips, and before you can even process what's happening, he's already between your legs, his tongue tracing the edges of your folds.

You gasp as he tastes you, his mouth and tongue exploring your most intimate parts with surprising tenderness. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, but the desperate need in yours is answer enough.

He settles into a rhythm, licking and sucking until you're squirming beneath him, begging for more.

With a low groan, Scott pulls away from you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you never knew existed within him. He quickly strips his own clothes off, his erection standing proudly as he leans over you.

His gaze lingers on your exposed body, a look of awe and desire mixing within his eyes. He positions himself between your legs, his hand caressing your thigh gently. He whispers against your ear, "Ready, princess?" His voice is a mix of tenderness and urgency.

You nod, feeling the heat pool between your legs, and he doesn't waste another moment. He slides into you with a gentle push, filling you up with a surprising tenderness that makes your heart race. He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours in a slow, sensual rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment building as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. His hands are everywhere, caressing and exploring, making you feel cherished and desired.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he picks up the pace, the gentle movements turning into a passionate dance of bodies intertwined. The room is filled with the sound of your soft moans and his deep grunts of pleasure.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced before, and you can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging as he makes love to you with a fiery passion that seems to burn away all the tension between you.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony, every touch and kiss feeling like it's been written in the stars, leaving only the aftermath of passion and the thundering of your hearts beating together.

With a final, deep thrust, Scott's body stiffens as he reaches his climax, groaning against your neck. He releases himself inside of you with a raw passion that resonates through both your bodies.

Pulling out, he rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so that you're nestled against his side, your legs tangled together. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, his eyes closed as the tension in his muscles slowly starts to ease.

You lay there, feeling a mix of satisfaction and bewilderment, your heart racing in your chest. The room is quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the occasional distant rumble outside.

The warmth of his cum inside of you serves as a physical reminder of the intensity of the moment, leaving you feeling both fulfilled and slightly overwhelmed.

As the reality of what just happened begins to sink in, you glance over at Scott, his eyes now open and staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

Quietly you slip out of the bed, grabbing your clothes and sneaking into the bathroom. Cleaning yourself up, you put your clothes back on your heart aching as your mind wanders, wondering if he regrets it all.

Scott remains lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments after you quietly slip away to the bathroom. His mind is a flurry of emotions. Part of him still can't believe what just happened.

He sits up on the edge of the bed, pulling his boxers back on, running a hand through his hair as he waits for you to exit the bathroom. When you do, he looks up at you, his expression still unreadable.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He stands up, walking over to you, his gaze intense. You look up at him, your eyes scanning his face as you try to read his face.

Scott stands in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of uncertainty and intensity swirling in their depths. He swallows, his throat dry as he looks at you.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggles to find the right words. He lifts his hand, gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb lightly tracing the contour of your cheek.

"Hey..." he mumbles, his voice rough and strained. You think he’s trying to brush you off so you push his hand away from your face.

“I should, uh, I should probably go now..” your voice trails off as your gaze drops to the ground. Scott's eyes widen as you push his hand away, his heart clenching in his chest.

"Wait..." he says urgently, reaching out towards you. He doesn't want you to leave. Not after what just happened between you two. He grabs your wrist, gently pulling you back towards him.

"Hold on a second," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of desperation and pleading. He steps closer to you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. You lean into his touch savoring how his hands feel against you.

”Scott, look..” you try to think of what to say but nothing else comes out. Scott's heart pounds in his chest as you lean into him. He can feel the tension in your body, sees the conflict in your eyes.

He searches your face, his gaze flickering over your features, desperate for any hint of what you're thinking. He tightens his grip on your hip, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"Look at me," he says gruffly, his voice almost pleading. He gently turns your face up towards his, his eyes locking onto yours. "What were you going to say?"

”I mean,” you take a deep breath, “it’s okay if you want me to go, I get it.” You close your eyes, your cheek pressing into his palm. Scott's eyes widen in disbelief at your words.

"What? No, no, that's not what I want at all." he says urgently, his grip on your hip and cheek tightening. He pulls you even closer to him, closing the distance so your bodies are nearly pressed up against each other.

He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and desperation. "Do you really think I'd want you to walk out after... after what we just did?" he says, his voice low and gruff.

Your arm wraps around his torso, fingers pressing into his back. “Scott, I don’t have to stay just because you feel bad about what happened..” Scott's heart clenches in his chest as you wrap your arm around him, his body responding to your touch. He lets out a sigh, his other hand moving to wrap around your waist.

"It's not that," he mumbles against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. He pulls you even closer, his arms holding you tight against him. "I don't feel bad about what happened. I just... I don't want you to leave," he admits, his voice thick with emotion.

”Scott, you’re not usually the sweet type.” Your voice regains its amused tone as you realize he wants the same as you. Scott can't help but chuckle at your words, the amused tone in your voice bringing a soft smile to his lips. He shakes his head slightly, pulling back just enough so he can look at you.

His eyes roam over your face, taking in your features and the slight smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Sweet, huh?" he mutters, his hand on your hip moving up to grip your chin, tilting your head back slightly. "That's not what you'd usually call me, princess."

”Not quite,” you smile, “but I can’t lie, I like your change in attitude.” Scott's heart skips a beat as you smile up at him, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly. A sly grin spreads across his lips as you comment on his change in attitude.

"Oh, yeah?" he hums, his voice low and sultry. He brings his face closer to yours, his breath hot on your skin. "You like it when I'm not a complete dick?" he teases, his smirk widening.

“Mhm,” you sit back on the bed, slipping out of your skirt and shirt. “You think I can borrow your shirt for the night?” Your voice is sultry as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

Scott's jaw clenches as you undress, his eyes roaming over your body as more and more skin is exposed once again. He swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry as he watches you reach for your bra.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "You can borrow whatever you want, princess."

His eyes are fixed on you as his shirt, still balled up on the bed from earlier, is in your hands. He watches as you slip it on, the fabric molding to your curves, and he can't help but let out a low growl at the sight.

You grasp his hand and pull him to you Scott willingly follows your lead, letting you pull him down towards the bed. A low rumble vibrates in his chest as he looms over you, his eyes roaming over your body once again.

His hands move to brace on either side of your head, holding his body above you. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and hungry. "You look damn good in my shirt," he growls, his voice thick with desire.

“You think so?” You brush your fingers over his jaw. Scott's skin tingles where your fingers brush against his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a shiver runs down his spine at your gentle caress.

"I know so," he murmurs, opening his eyes to lock onto yours. "You look good in anything," he adds, his voice low and husky as he gazes down at you.

“Scott, we should sleep..” you murmur, your eyes getting heavy. Scott lets out a soft sigh, noticing the tiredness in your eyes. He knows you're right, but he can't help but want to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer.

With a final brush of his hand against your cheek, he rolls off of you, laying down beside you. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking you against his chest.

"Sleep," he mutters, his voice soft and soothing. "I'll be here when you wake up, princess." You rest your face against his chest, cuddling into him.

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mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

ikaw lang— fushiguro megumi.

"Thanks. he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad. You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.” “......You didn’t need to—” You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, First Love, First Meeting, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Hugging, Mention of Injury, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Blood, Depiction of Medical Aid, Fushiguro Megumi is In Love, Sorcerer! Megumi, Non-Sorcerer!Reader, Megumi and Reader Are A Bit Older;

WORDS: 6.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this song is really cute. i should rest after this because ive been writing all the other poll related works and my eyes hurts. i might open commissions some time so i can get new glasses 🤔 but anyway, i hope you like this as much as i do. i love you so much 🫶

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if you want to, tip! <3

:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:

HE WONDERS WHAT HE DID TO BE THIS HAPPY. Fushiguro Megumi often finds himself lost in thought, trying to piece together how he ended up with someone like you as his lover. It’s a mystery to him, one that he turns over and over in his mind, especially in the quiet moments when he watches you from across the room.

The two of you couldn’t be more different. Megumi has always been reserved, the kind of person who prefers the solace of a quiet corner, away from the spotlight. He’s never been one to seek attention, content to blend into the background, observing rather than participating.

And then there’s you, today. The person he loves the most.

You, who are the complete opposite of everything he thought he needed. You walk into a room and light it up effortlessly, drawing people to you like a lighthouse in a rough storm. Your presence is magnetic, radiant—wherever you go, you leave a trail of warmth and joy, like the sun casting light on everything in its path. If the sun existed in Megumi’s universe, it would undoubtedly be you, the brightest star in his sky, illuminating even the darkest parts of his world.

Sometimes, Fushiguro Megumi wonders how someone like you could ever be drawn to someone like him. He’s not flashy, not outgoing or overly expressive. But then, you’ve never needed him to be. From the moment you met, you saw something in him that no one else did. You didn’t mind his quiet nature; in fact, you seemed to appreciate it, to cherish the way he found comfort in the shadows while you thrived in the light.

Every time Megumi sees you, his heart races uncontrollably. It’s a feeling he can’t quite describe, this mixture of awe and disbelief that he’s lucky enough to have you by his side. You have a way of making him feel things he never thought possible—emotions that run deep and wild, far beyond the calm exterior he usually shows the world.

And whenever you flash him that smile, the one he loves so much, he feels his composure slip. His face turns scarlet, his heart stumbles over itself, and he panics slightly, wondering how he’ll ever survive the intensity of his feelings for you.

But what truly leaves Megumi breathless are your eyes.

He’s always been captivated by them, even before he realized he loved you. There’s something in the way your eyes shine that draws him in, that makes him feel like he’s seeing something otherworldly. When you look at him, it’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Your eyes are windows to your soul, reflecting every emotion, every thought, every ounce of love you hold for him. And Megumi, who is often so unsure of himself, finds a sense of peace and belonging in those eyes. They are his sanctuary, his guiding light, the proof that he’s not alone in this world.

Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll tilt your head and ask him what he’s thinking. And every time, Megumi struggles to find the right words, because how can he possibly explain the way you make him feel? How can he put into words the overwhelming mixture of gratitude, love, and fear that courses through him whenever he’s with you? All he knows is that, in those moments, he’s reminded of just how extraordinary you are, and how incredibly lucky he is to have you.

You are the sun in his universe, the brightest star in his sky, and with every passing day, Megumi falls deeper in love with you. And even though he’s not always able to express it, he hopes that when you look into his eyes, you can see just how much you mean to him—how much he adores every part of you, and how grateful he is to share his life with someone as wonderful as you.

Each time you raise your head and let Megumi gaze into your eyes, he’s struck by how they seem to shimmer with an otherworldly light. It’s not just the way they sparkle, but the depth and complexity they hold within them, as if your eyes contain entire galaxies, full of stars, planets, and endless mysteries.

To Megumi, your eyes are like a universe unto themselves—vast, beautiful, and impossible to fully comprehend. He can never quite find the words to describe the wonder they bring him, because, in truth, they’re unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re out of this world, something magical and extraordinary that he’s lucky enough to witness every day.

And every day, Megumi is reminded of just how fortunate he is to have you by his side. There are moments when he’s caught off guard by the simple yet profound realization that someone as remarkable as you chose him.

He’ll be lost in thought, or caught up in the routine of daily life, and then you’ll look at him, your eyes meeting his, and all those thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. In those moments, nothing else matters—just the connection between you, the unspoken bond that ties your hearts together.

Megumi finds that the most beautiful part of his day is when you look back at him. Your eyes, shining with a brilliance that words can’t quite capture, speak volumes in a language only the two of you understand. They tell him of the abundant love you hold for him, a love that fills his heart with warmth and light.

He’s always been shy, a little reserved, and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. But when you look at him with those sparkling eyes, he wishes he could find the courage to tell you just how much it feels like heaven on Earth when you let him see the hearts hidden behind the bright beam of your gaze.

Megumi knows that you’re patient with him, that you understand his quiet nature, but sometimes he worries that he doesn’t show you enough how deeply he loves you. He wishes he could be more expressive, that he could find the words to tell you everything he feels.

But when words fail him, he hopes that you can see it in the way he looks at you—in the way his breath catches, in the way his heart races, in the way he’s completely and utterly captivated by you.

To Megumi, your eyes are not just beautiful—they are a reflection of the love you have for him, a love that he treasures more than anything in the world. Every glance you share, every moment your eyes meet his, is a reminder of how lucky he is to have found someone like you. And even though he may never fully grasp the magic you bring into his life, he knows that he will spend every day trying to show you just how much you mean to him.

To Megumi, it feels like stars might actually be falling from the sky, captured in the light of your gaze. Every moment he gets to see those eyes, he feels like he's witnessing something otherworldly, something that makes all the differences between you melt away, leaving only the overwhelming love he has for you.

Even though Megumi isn’t always good with words, he sometimes wishes that you could simply look into his eyes and just know that he loves you more than anything in the world. He hopes that you no longer feel the need to ask over and over, like you used to, because the truth is, you’re the only one he has ever truly loved—and the only one he ever will.

But sometimes, a nagging doubt creeps into his mind. He worries that his quietness might not be enough to convince you of how much you mean to him. He fears that he’s not doing enough to show you just how deeply he cares, because he struggles to express his feelings out loud. Yet, despite those fears, Megumi is determined to try harder, to find ways to show you his love so that you never have to doubt it.

If there were a way, Megumi wishes you could look into his heart and believe without a shadow of a doubt that you are the only one his heart has ever loved. And as he gazes at you now, he silently hopes that you can feel the depth of his affection in the way he looks at you, even if the words aren’t always there.

Fushiguro Megumi vividly remembers the first time he saw you for the first time. That was that day, during middle school. It was an ordinary day, and he wasn’t expecting anything to change. And for that change to be for the best.

He was known for being a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and occasionally got into trouble for his rebellious streak. He wasn’t exactly a model student, and most people gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved with someone who had a reputation for being a delinquent.

But then there was you, when you were younger.

He had just been reprimanded by one of the homeroom teachers for getting into another fight—something that had become more common as he struggled to navigate the challenges of his teenage years.

Or rather, just the annoyance he had for people he considered to be cruel, horrible people. But he supposed he was also angry, frustrated with the world, and on the verge of lashing out again when you approached him.

You were new, just transferred to the school, and Megumi was sure that you, like everyone else, would steer clear of him. But instead, you walked right up to him, your eyes full of concern rather than fear or judgment. You were like the sun blocking his eyes when he met you. You changed his whole world that day, he likes to think.

"Hey! Are you okay?" you had said softly, your voice calm and soothing. "Oh no, you got some dirt on your shirt—is that a cut on your side?"

Fushiguro Megumi had been taken aback for a long time. The last time must have been when Gojo said he’s taking him and Megumi in. There were very few things that had Megumi fazed, stuck in his tracks, and at a loss for words.

Perhaps the act of kindness being shown to him was one of those points. But he doesn’t think you’ve blamed him. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that—without the underlying wariness or caution. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, trying to brush you off.

“I’m fine.” he muttered, his tone gruff, hoping you would just drop it and leave him alone. "Don't worry about me. Move on."

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you stood your ground, your eyes filled with a concern that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if you could see right through his tough exterior, straight to the part of him that was hurting, and you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed. You shook your head, your hands reaching out to gently tug at his sleeves, drawing his attention back to you.

When he finally looked at you, he was surprised to find that you seemed more distressed about his well-being than he was. There was a softness in your gaze, mixed with a quiet determination that caught him off guard.

"It doesn’t look like it! See? It hasn’t stopped bleeding. you replied gently, your voice free of any reproach, but filled with genuine worry.

Megumi followed your gaze to the cut on his arm, a wound he hadn’t given much thought to in the heat of the moment. But seeing the concern etched on your face made him pause.

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before speaking again. "But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

“Don’t worry about me—”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of your concern, and it made something inside Megumi’s chest tighten. "At least maybe let me help you clean that nasty cut."

Megumi blinked, taken aback by your persistence. He was used to people either ignoring him or chastising him for getting into trouble, but you were different. You weren’t trying to fix him or tell him what to do—you were simply offering to help, to be there for him in a way that no one else had been. It was a kindness he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, he considered brushing you off, telling you he didn’t need any help, that he could handle it on his own. But something in your eyes stopped him. There was a sincerity there, a genuine desire to take care of him, and it made him realize how rare it was for someone to care like that.

"Fine." he finally grumbled, though his voice had lost its earlier edge. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze, instead focusing on the ground as he added, "But it’s really not that bad."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t push him further. Instead, you smiled—a small, relieved smile that made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. "Let’s just get it cleaned up, okay?" you said softly, leading him to a nearby bench.

As you carefully tended to his wound, Megumi found himself stealing glances at you, wondering why you cared so much. You were new to the school, new to his world, and yet here you were, going out of your way to make sure he was alright. It was strange, but also… comforting.

"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, surprising even himself with the question. It wasn’t something he’d meant to say out loud, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back.

You paused, looking up at him with those kind, worried eyes. "Because you deserve it." you replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone deserves to be cared for, you know?"

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Megumi didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought of himself as someone who deserved kindness, especially not from someone like you. But hearing you say it so matter-of-factly made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You took Megumi to the nurse’s office, your concern evident in every step you took. He had tried to brush off the cut on his arm as no big deal, but you weren’t having any of it. As you entered the office, you headed straight for the supply cabinet, rummaging through it to find the emergency kit.

Megumi watched you with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. His face was tense, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment clearly visible. He had never been one to draw attention to himself, especially not for something he considered minor. Yet here you were, focused and determined to make sure he was taken care of.

You pulled out the first aid kit and set it on the counter, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice steady and reassuring.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the fuss you were making. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, trying to downplay the situation.

You gave him a stern look as you began to clean the cut. “It’s not just a scratch if it’s bleeding. Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been taking care of everyone else, so let me take care of you for once.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by your persistence. As you carefully applied the antiseptic and bandaged his arm, Megumi stole glances at you, noticing the focused expression on your face. Despite his initial resistance, he was grateful for your concern.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time.

You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “I know, but I want to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s only fair that I return the favor. Besides, you look like you’re in no condition to argue right now.”

Megumi managed a small, appreciative smile despite his discomfort. “Thanks. I guess I’m just not used to this… kind of attention.”

You finished wrapping the bandage and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. And don’t think I won’t be checking on you if you ever get hurt again.”

He looked at you, the tension in his face easing as he met your gaze. “I’ll try not to get hurt then. Or at least try to let you know before it gets this bad.”

You laughed softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. “Good. And remember, if you ever need anything—whether it’s help with a cut or just someone to talk to—I’m always here for you.”

Megumi’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and affection. Even though he had tried to downplay the situation, your unwavering concern made him feel valued in a way he hadn’t felt before. He knew that no matter what happened, he could always count on you to be by his side.

As you finished bandaging his cut, Megumi felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, or the way you didn’t push him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to share. Or maybe it was just because you were there, offering your help without expecting anything in return.

"Thanks....I guess." he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad.

You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.”

“......You didn’t need to—”

You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a weird one.”

“EH!? But I’m not!”

As the two of you sat there, the world seemed to quiet down around him, leaving only the gentle presence of the person who had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and show him a kindness he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was used to people either avoiding him or giving him grief for his behavior, but you were different. You weren’t trying to lecture him or push him away. You were just… there, offering your kindness without expecting anything in return.

From that day on, you always treated him with the same patience and understanding, even when he continued to get into trouble. You never judged him, never scolded him. Instead, you listened, offering support when he needed it and giving him space when he didn’t. You seemed to see past the rough exterior, recognizing that there was more to him than just the delinquent reputation he had built.

At first, Megumi didn’t understand why you were so kind to him. He didn’t think he deserved it, and part of him expected you to give up on him eventually. But you never did. No matter how many times he got into trouble, you were always there, offering him a smile or a word of encouragement.

Slowly, he began to soften around you. He started to look forward to the moments when you would seek him out, your presence becoming a source of comfort in his otherwise turbulent life. You became his anchor, the person who made him believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

It wasn’t long before Megumi realized that his feelings for you had grown into something deeper. At first, he had tried to convince himself that what he felt was simply gratitude, an appreciation for the way you treated him with such genuine care and respect. But as time passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more, his thoughts lingering on the little moments you shared.

Like that time in the library, when you had insisted on helping him with his homework. Megumi had been struggling with a particularly difficult problem, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to solve it. You had noticed his struggle and quietly slid your chair closer to his, gently guiding him through the problem with a patience that both surprised and comforted him.

“There, see? You’re getting it!” you had said, a bright smile lighting up your face as you watched him work through the problem.

Megumi had looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside him had shifted. It was the way you had been so kind, so encouraging, without a hint of judgment or condescension. The way you had treated him like he mattered, like you genuinely wanted to see him succeed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him, yet it warmed him from the inside out.

Another moment had come when the two of you were walking home from school. It had started to rain unexpectedly, and Megumi had cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. But before he could worry too much, you had pulled out your own and held it over both of you, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, let’s share. Can’t have you getting soaked.” you had said, your voice cheerful despite the downpour.

As the two of you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally, Megumi had felt his heart do a strange little flip. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the raindrops clung to your hair, how your smile remained unwavering despite the weather.

In that moment, something had clicked for him. It wasn’t just your kindness that drew him to you—it was the way you made him feel safe, understood, and… cared for.

The realization had hit him one afternoon when you both were at the park. You had been talking animatedly about something, your hands gesturing as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fushiguro Megumi had been content to just listen, watching the way your expressions changed with every word. And then, without warning, you had turned to him, catching him completely off guard with a look of such warmth and affection that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“What?” you had asked, laughing lightly when you noticed the way he was staring.

Megumi had opened his mouth to respond, but no words had come out. Instead, he had felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him—nervousness, excitement, something that felt suspiciously like hope. It was then that he realized: this wasn’t just friendship or simple admiration. It was something deeper, something more.

He liked you. A lot.

The thought had sent a rush of warmth through his chest, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. Megumi wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But as he looked at you, standing there with that bright smile on your face, he knew one thing for certain—he wanted to be around you, to make you smile like that as often as he could.

“Nothing.” he had finally managed to say, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” you had asked, tilting your head curiously.

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, but then he had decided to be honest, even if he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind. “About how… I like spending time with you.”

Your smile had grown even brighter at his words, and you had reached out to lightly punch his arm in that playful way you always did. “Well, I like spending time with you too, Megumi.”

And just like that, Megumi had known that he was done for. He liked you—really liked you. And even though the thought scared him, it also filled him with a strange sense of happiness, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. From that moment on, Megumi couldn’t deny it anymore. He liked you, and he wanted to see where these feelings would take him.

Looking back, Megumi often finds himself reflecting on how profoundly different his life might have been if you hadn’t approached him that day. It was a pivotal moment, one that he now sees as the turning point in his journey.

Before you, he had felt like a perpetual outsider—misunderstood, labeled as a troublemaker, and largely ignored by those around him. He had been resigned to his role, to the way people saw him, without much hope for change or growth.

But then you came into his life, a beacon of kindness and patience in a world that had been mostly indifferent. You saw something in him that no one else had—a potential for change, a person worth caring for. Your approach had been gentle but resolute, offering him a friendship and understanding that he hadn’t known he needed.

You didn’t judge him for his mistakes or his quiet demeanor; instead, you reached out to him with a genuine concern for his well-being. It was this unassuming kindness that started to crack open the hardened shell he had built around himself.

Now, years later, Megumi often wonders if he would have ever found the strength to change if it hadn’t been for you. He thinks about the way you had treated him back then, how your unwavering support had slowly begun to reshape his view of himself.

It was as if you had quietly whispered to him that he was worth something, that he had the potential to be better, and that there was more to him than just the surface-level troubles. And in doing so, you had planted a seed of hope and self-worth that gradually grew into something stronger and more resilient.

As the two of you sit together now, the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow through the window, Megumi can’t help but be reminded of how far he’s come. The comfort and familiarity of your presence have become a cherished part of his life.

He often steals glances at you, unable to fully comprehend just how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. The way you’re sitting there, so effortlessly at ease, makes his heart swell with a deep affection that words can hardly capture.

You’ve caught him staring more than once, and each time, you respond with that soft, knowing smile that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a smile that reassures him, that reminds him of the love that started on that day in junior high, when you saw him not as a problem or a troublemaker, but as someone worthy of care and respect. That smile, simple yet profound, continues to be a source of comfort and joy for him, a daily reminder of how much you mean to him.

In those moments, as he looks at you and sees the warmth in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips, Megumi is filled with a deep sense of gratitude. He thinks about how his life might have been different without your influence, and he realizes just how much you’ve changed him. The love he feels for you is rooted in that initial connection, and it has only grown deeper and stronger with time.

Megumi knows now that the love he has for you began with that first act of kindness you showed him, and it has only been enriched by the years you’ve spent together. As he sits there beside you, basking in the glow of the setting sun and the warmth of your presence, he can’t help but feel that he has found something truly extraordinary—something that started with a simple gesture of care and has blossomed into a love that he never thought possible.

You lean in slightly, noticing how quiet he’s been. "Megumi. Oiiiiiii, Megu–Megu~ Gumiiiiii!”

He sighed, looking at you. You have energy again, after resting. “What is it?”

“You truly okay?" you ask, your voice gentle and inviting.

He hesitates, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "Just thinking about the past. Nostalgia."

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection. You smiled. "You’re always so cute, Megumi.” You sighed, as you reached out gently to touch his hand. ”You’ve been staring at me all evening. If you have something to say, you can tell me, okay?”

Megumi swallows, gathering his courage. "It’s just… your eyes…" he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re… really beautiful. And just…..you. I think how lucky I am to be with you.”

You blink in surprise, not expecting such a heartfelt compliment from him. "Oh, my beloved Megumi." you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you."

Megumi slowly looks up at you then, his own eyes filled with a tender sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He took a breath before letting his eyes wander at the sight of you, his beloved marvel. His wonder in life. He gives you a faint smile.

"When you look at me like that… it feels like I’m seeing stars." he continues, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Like… every time I see your eyes, it’s the most beautiful part of my day. And… I don’t know how to say this right, but… it’s like there’s love shining behind them, so much that it feels like heaven."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you squeeze his hand gently. You lifted his hand to your lips and looked at him tenderly as you pressed your lips against the top of his hand. He doesn’t know when his heart will calm down. But when it’s you, he doubts if it will ever happen.

"Megumi, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me." you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "And just so you know, when I look at you, I feel the same way. You make every day feel like the brightest one I’ve ever had. Because when I look at you, I ask, ‘how did I deserve this boy?’ Because, you’re too good to me.”

He smiles shyly, his blush deepening as he takes in your words. "I’m glad….that you feel like I do too." he murmurs, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"I always will." You reassured him, grinning at him lovingly.

"I… I’m not good with words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. Every time you look at me, it’s like… it’s like I’m the luckiest person in the world."

You lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don’t have to say much, Megumi. I can see it in your eyes too." you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “That’s more than enough for me, know that. Okay?”

Megumi’s heart swells, and for a moment, he forgets about his usual shyness. "I love you." he says softly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Your smile widens, your eyes shining even brighter. "I love you too, Megumi." you reply, your voice filled with the same sincerity and warmth that he sees in your gaze every day.

And in that moment, with your hands intertwined and your eyes locked, Fushiguro Megumi knows that there’s nothing more beautiful than the love you both share. And he truly believes that. He thinks that you’re the love of his life. And he has no intention of letting you go.

Megumi's heart races as the words hang in the air between you. He's never been the best at expressing his feelings, but something about being with you makes it easier—like the words come naturally when you're around. You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again, your own filled with the same warmth and love that makes his heart flutter.

"You know, Megumi." you start, your voice soft and affectionate, "I always feel like I’m the luckiest person too. Because even when you're quiet or shy, I can feel everything you don’t say in the way you look at me. It’s like you’re telling me a million things with just a glance."

He bites his lip, trying to find the right words to respond. "It’s hard for me to… say things out loud sometimes. And it’s hard to be honest at times." he admits, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again. "But when I’m with you, it feels different. Because when I’m with you, I’m just….me.”

You smile at him, a soft, understanding smile that makes him feel even more at ease. "You don’t have to say everything, Megumi." you reassure him. "I can see it in your actions, in the way you care for me, and in those beautiful eyes of yours. You’re always telling me how you feel, even when you think you’re not. I love that about you, don’t worry.”

Megumi blushes, the compliment making him feel a mix of embarrassment and joy. "You… you think my eyes are beautiful?" he asks, his voice small, almost disbelieving.

"Of course I do." you reply, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re so expressive, even when you’re being quiet. I can always tell what you’re feeling just by looking into them. Your eyelashes too. They’re always pretty!”

His breath hitches at the closeness, your words making his heart swell with emotion. "I… I’m glad you think that." he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because… When I look at you, I see everything I could ever want.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and you close the small distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It’s soft, sweet, and full of the love that you both share, a love that needs no words to be understood.

When you pull back, you see that Megumi’s face is a deep shade of red, but there’s a small, content smile on his lips that makes your heart soar. "You really know how to say the perfect thing, don’t you?" you tease lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

He chuckles softly, his shyness momentarily forgotten as he looks at you with nothing but affection. "Only because it’s you." he replies, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "You make it easy."

You both sit there for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. Megumi’s hand is still entwined with yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if to remind himself that this is real—that you’re real, and that you’re his.

"I never thought I’d be this happy, you know?" he admits quietly, almost as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud might break the spell. "But with you… it’s like every day is a dream."

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the boy who, despite his quiet demeanor, has given you more happiness than you ever imagined. "Then let’s keep dreaming together, Megumi." you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "Because I never want this to end."

The warmth of the setting sun bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a gentle glow that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Megumi and you were nestled comfortably together, sharing a quiet sense of peace that had settled between you. This was paradise, Megumi thinks. This was heaven on earth. You and you alone, in his arms — he could not ask for anything more.

Megumi glanced at you again, his eyes reflecting the soft light. “What good did I do to be with you?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “Why do you say that? What makes you feel that way? You did everything good. You do deserve me."

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t really know what I needed. I was so closed off and messed up back then. But you saw something in me, something I didn’t even see in myself.”

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his cheek to lift his gaze to meet yours. “I saw a person who needed kindness and understanding, and I’m really glad I could be there for you. But you did the hard part, Megumi. You changed and grew, and that’s all you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, every day with you feels like a gift. I keep thinking about how different things could have been if you hadn’t come into my life. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well, I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you’re here with me now. It’s like we were meant to find each other, don’t you think?”

Megumi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I keep thinking about how we met and how everything just seemed to fall into place after that. It’s like you were the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”

Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned closer. “And you were the person who showed me what it means to be patient and understanding. We’ve both learned so much from each other.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve made me a better person. I feel like I’ve become more open, more willing to trust and care. It’s all because of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. “I’m just glad I could be a part of your journey. And I’m excited for everything that’s still to come for us.”

Megumi returned the hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too. I want to make sure I’m always there for you, supporting you just like you’ve supported me. I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how much I mean to you. And I’ll always be here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

As the two of you sat together, the warmth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow over the room, Megumi felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. He knew that with you by his side, every day would be brighter, every challenge more bearable.

And as he looked into your eyes, he realized that the love he felt was a constant, reassuring presence—one that made everything feel right in the world.

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phyrestartr · 11 months ago

Text

Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader

Main Fic W/C: 5.9k Bonus Drabbles W/C: 1.6k

[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, I KINDA EDITED BUT I JUST WANT THIS TO BE YEETED INTO THE OPEN OK BYE SORRY IF PARTS ARE CLUNKY]

@better-imagination-9 I summon thee

Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business.

He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as it was made out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders.

“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand.

“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”

Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”

“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I'm not.”

Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor.

“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–”

“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.”

Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room.

You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane.

“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted.

“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.”

“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat.

Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”

He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.

The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.

The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too.

–

Ding.

He knew it was you. It had to be you. You were a good person, willing to let Uraume rest while you gave your ex the update he needed about his brother. After all, you didn't fear him, nor did you yearn to please him. You were more than capable of delivering shit news and getting off scotch free.

“So?” Sukuna took a deep puff from his cigar and leaned further into the balcony railing as you approached.

You hummed as you sidled up next to him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as the breeze tugged at it. “He'll be fine. Yuuji's tough. He's a bit shaken up now that the adrenaline’s worn off, though.”

“Maybe that'll teach that idiot not to get shot.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably not,” Sukuna sighed, tapping off a dash of ash from the butt of his cigar just before it was plucked from his hands. “Oi.”

“These things'll kill you,” you scolded airily. “So will that.” You tried reaching for the crystalline glass of amber, too, when Sukuna scoffed and took a sip to spite you.

“Don't,” he snarled. Any normal omega would have backed away. Any normal omega would have keened. Any normal omega would have tried to please him up with a sweet scent of submission. But you were a different breed entirely.

“Don't growl at me–” you gaped as Sukuna downed the expensive liquor before whipping the glass at the skyline. “Sukuna.”

He stalked back into his penthouse with heavy steps as he ran his hands through his hair. He had to busy his fingers, his palms, just so he wasn't tempted to touch you, to grab you like he was used to. It'd been years since you were properly together–properly engaged in fact–but he still couldn't shake those infuriating fucking habits. You were a cancer in his mind, plaguing his body and thoughts.

But he didn't want you to leave. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe he just liked how his entire, explosive world narrowed down to just one infuriating thing that he wanted so badly. He didn't know. Maybe he didn't need to know.

Sukuna poured himself another drink and collapsed onto his soft leather couch with a deep sigh. His arms draped along the back, one hand still holding the glass by the rim. He let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling.

Thankfully, you wandered in. And you wandered toward him, not to the door like you usually did when his temper flared and he acted out. Something small and pathetic in him uncoiled and settled down, purring in content when you took a seat beside him.

“What's going on?” you asked quietly. Your fingertips singed sparks of pleasure against his skin where you touched: his cheekbones, his hairline, his furrowed brow.

He lolled his head to the side to look at you, his stupid pretty boy. “Nothing.” Not even Sukuna believed that.

You brushed his hair back, and the stupid alpha in him rose to the surface and moaned. “Yuuji’s not behaving?” Your warm palm cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it.

“That little shit never behaves,” he mumbled through the vibrato of purrs rumbling from his chest. “Gonna make me die young.”

“Hm. Is that why you haven't slept?”

“I'm sleeping.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Sukuna.”

“I said–”

“You and I have different definitions of ‘enough,’” you chided lightly, like you were scolding one of your cats. “You look tired.”

“Maybe it's because my mate scampered off in the middle of the night.”

“Don't blame this on me.”

“Why not?” Wine-red eyes glowered at you, deciding whether he should dominate or decimate you. “It's your fault.”

You recoiled the slightest bit, your top lip twitching in that oh-so familiar way it did whenever you were close to snarling and snapping at him. You had such a temper for such a calm thing. Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't try to rile you up on purpose.

“Ho? What,” he started, grinning wickedly when you made a move to get up, but his arms snaked around you and held like wrought iron. “Feelin’ guilty?”

“No,” you hissed, half-pissed by his drink spilling on you, half-pissed by his accusation. “Let go. I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?” He crooned. “You always get so pissy when I don't wanna talk, ‘n now that I'm in the mood, you're tryna leave? Come on, sweetheart, that's not fair.”

“I don't feel like fucking fighting tonight,” you snapped, and Sukuna stayed quiet for a change. “Yuuji got shot. You look like shit. And we--I haven't–” you took a deep breath. “Can't we just be civil for a night? Can't we just talk about–”

“About what?”

“About whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Alright. Okay.”

Somewhere behind the haze of alcohol, Sukuna's consciousness celebrated–this could be his shot at starting to fix things. This was his moment to rebuild that lost relationship and maybe clean up a space in his life for you to sit safely in. Your expectant expression agreed with him. You looked quite cute, what with your big eyes and the way you leaned into him. But instead–

“Was it a boy or a girl?” Sukuna asked before taking a sip of whatever remained in his glass.

You blinked and shook your head, eyes narrowing the slightest as you looked over his face. “What?” You asked.

Sukuna snorted and turned to face you, one arm gesturing with his scotch glass while the other arm stayed slung across the back of the couch. “I said,” he started, gesturing to your stomach and chuckling through his low, bassy words, “boy or girl? If it was a girl, then maybe the world did you a favour. You know how it is for women in this day and age.”

You stared blankly like you were shellshocked, and Sukuna bubbled with near-manic, reedy laughter until you got up and walked to the door.

“Oi, where the hell are you going, huh?” He got up and followed you, hastening his steps when he saw you b-line for the door. “Omega.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, purring into your ear as he pressed his chest to your back. “Come on, we can make another one. You'd like that, huh?”

“Get off,” you barked, ripping his arms away from you. But he grabbed you again and spun you back to face him. You shoved him back, your mind whirling in a chaotic waltz drenched with grey thoughts and crimson rain that almost drowned out the words he barked at you until–

Whack.

He hit you. Backhanded, fingers adorned with thick, bulky rings and knuckles that'd seen too many fights. A natural disaster contained in the vessel of a mortal man–sometimes, he didn't know his own capabilities.

“Shit,” Sukuna mumbled, scrambling to set down his glass to, what, tend to you? Rewind time? Sure. “Babe–”

But you, too, were a natural disaster. The tsunami that came after an earthquake, raising tides high and staring down at split earth with a taunt: you think you're bad? Watch this.

Thwack.

You snatched up that bottle of fancy scotch and hit a home run, watching Sukuna collapse to the floor.

–

Sukuna woke up with a concussion, his wallet missing, and one of his favourite cars torched.

It got him riled up. He was too ready to hunt you down and make you rectify your mistakes–that is, until he remembered why you did what you did.

Boy or girl?

Maybe the world did you a favour.

Fuck. He flew way too close to the sun this time.

He watched you stack up expenses on his card instead of hunting you. Your little rage-filled crime spree was kind of funny anyway, and he couldn’t help but hope it made you feel at least a little better.

Though he knew it could never. Nothing could make it better.

–

“You should quit messing around with him,” Ieiri said as she tended to the half-dead gangster laying on her operating table. “He's bad news. A kid like you shouldn’t be getting involved.”

The one little, wiggly lucid part of Sukuna wanted to strangle Ieiri; you were young, sure, but not stupid. Sukuna wouldn't go so far as to say you were mature for your age, no, but you'd been beaten down by life and forced into the role of an adult for long enough that it'd changed your way of thinking, of perceiving the world. You could make your own choices–just as long as it involved him.

“You're not the first person to tell me that,” you said softly, words rising with a small, warm chuckle. “Good guys try way too hard to put on a show, to hide how garbage they can be.” You squeezed Sukuna's hand and ran your thumb over his split knuckles. “Guys like him show you who they really are right away. Then, you get to figure out what his good side is like.”

–

You were there again. In the elevator, looking a little pensive beyond your cool exterior.

Sukuna took a drag from his cigarette as he stepped in beside you. The button for his penthouse leered at him and whispered, “you have time.”

All he had to do was think of what to say. The right course of action was obvious, but–well, was it really his fault? He couldn't accept that 100%. You clocked him upside the head with a fucking glass bottle and stole his–

“Those things'll kill you.” Your fingers snatched the smoke from his lips before he realized it. He caught you butting it out on the fancy gold railings.

“I like things that can kill me,” he hummed, lighting another cigarette and chuckling when you snatched that one too. “What, scared of a little competition?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Sukuna liked that.

“I, uh,” you started, fumbling with your pockets before handing something over. “Found this.”

Sukuna glanced your way finally. He couldn't help but laugh as he plucked the wallet from your hands.

“Found it, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Such a benevolent, pious thing. I would've kept it.”

“Yeah, well. You're a dick. ‘Course you would.”

“Where'd you find it?”

“My pocket.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the empty hall leading to the penthouse. He glanced down at the door before looking back down at you.

“Have a drink with me.”

Your expression soured.

Sukuna threw his arm against the doors to keep them open. “Coffee?”

Your brows lifted, the creases smoothing from your face. “Coffee.”

Sukuna's alpha bloomed with pleased content. He sidled up next to you and rested his broad hand on the small of your back, leading you down the hall.

“With a bit of Baileys.”

“No Baileys.”

–

He let you try to sooth his stress while you waited for your favourite, poor-person coffee to brew.

You straddled his thick thighs as you kissed at his neck. Your hands roamed and threaded through his gelled hair, your blunt nails dragged along his scalp, coaxing rumbling purrs out of your alpha.

“Shit,” he moaned, leaning back into your hands, digging his head into your digits and grumbling like an old dog. You hummed in sympathy, and gave him harsher scritches, making his knee bounce in double time like a dog getting the spot scratched.

You weren’t done, though. You licked at his neck’s scent gland and coaxed more of his natural musk to the surface to mix with yours–a classic way to get one’s partner to calm down. You were methodical as fuck about it, too, knowing how Sukuna’s stress abruptly blocked any good scents in favour of excreting foul, angry odors into the air when he was pissed. Or, sometimes, he’d shut down completely, the only scent coming from what clung to his skin and clothes.

And so, he needed a little more TLC to get things flowing again, to make his body disarm and let the good vibes flow.

You nipped the swollen spot lightly, eliciting a strangled growl from the man. “Too rough?” Your tongue pressed at the spot again, and pulled more of that deep purring out of him. “Maybe not.”

“By all means, rough me up.” That was as close to a warning as you would get from a greedy bastard like Sukuna. He wanted you to bite harder, to break skin and set the wild tornado of a mating rut into motion. You were careful to avoid him when your unholy heats crashed down on you, but being in the presence of your estranged man when he was set off–well, it’d jumpstart your sex-crazed frenzy, too.

“Raincheck,” you murmured.

He huffed and rubbed circles in your hips before grabbing your ass and squeezing. “When's the last time–”

The coffee maker sang a tune and you got off, saved from your warm, fuzzy marking daze. “Does it matter?”

Sukuna got up and stalked after you, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder. “Like it or not, we're stuck with our binding vow.” His chest pressed to your back, his arms slipping around your waist as he leaned down to nuzzle into your skin. “Mated for life.” He couldn't help the smile that branded into your neck.

You cleared your throat and snatched up two mugs. “There're surgeries–”

“No.”

“How do you take your coffee again?” Hah. You didn't even try to argue it.

Sukuna's ego boomed. His scent grew more dominating and demanding in tow. “You know how I like it. You know the way I like everything.”

You scoffed and slapped his hand away, the sweet, teasing omega that happily marked him up and scented him to high heaven gone, now replaced with your annoying, bratty self. Ugh. He loved it as much as he hated it.

“You used to be cuter,” Sukuna commented, quiet and breathy, so out of character. His hands retreated back to hold your waist instead of keeping you trapped against him. “What happened to–”

“You know what happened.” You sounded tired, too. Angry. But not at the Sukuna standing with you right then and there.

Sukuna's old friend, unyielding frustration, bore down on him. He sucked his teeth and beat down the urge to snap, to yell and scream, claim it wasn't his fucking fault and that you never filled him in, so how could–

His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I don't,” he sighed. “I don't fucking know, (Name). We lost our kid, I know that much, so what the fuck else is there?”

For a moment, he thought he'd lost you again. He expected you to whirl around, throw a cup at his head and curse him to hell to start off another fight; instead, you slipped out of his hands gently, and replaced your warmth with a cup of coffee.

“Come sit.”

Sukuna complied.

You tucked your legs up under you when you sat down. Your own mug was held snugly with both hands, yet your fingers fidgeted, twirling around whatever rings you had on while you thought of what to say.

“So,” you started. “How much do you know?”

Sukuna leaned back and thought. “Uraume called. Said something was wrong.” He could remember their voice ringing in his ear, that usual, frigid demeanor exploding into something panicked and tortured as they tried to comfort you, order idiots around, and explain the situation. “They didn’t know what, but said you were bein’ taken to Ieiri. I met ‘em there, Gojo wouldn’t let me come in.” He sighed, the memories pricking his nerves. “Told me you miscarried, and–well, that’s more or less it.”

You nodded a little, digesting the scraps of knowledge that’d been given to Sukuna. “I was alone,” you breathed. “I was–I’d been cramping. A lot. I thought–I didn't know–I just–I thought it was normal.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting more and only stilling when Sukuna's palm rested on your leg. You covered his hand with one of yours. “There was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying. Uraume and Yuuji took me to Ieiri.”

Sukuna remembered that, too. He remembered catching sight of you just before his brother carried you away from him. It was hard to forget the sound of your wailing amidst all that red–that damned noise came from hell itself, from the burning, fetid pits of agony and despair and up through your beautiful voice. For something so foul to touch you was nothing but blasphemous.

Sukuna tried to follow you in, but that moron Gojo wouldn’t let him in, spouting some bullshit about how he’d make things worse. Needless to say, Sukuna snapped, and Ieiri suddenly had more than a mourning omega to deal with.

“I pinned it on you to cope. I didn’t know what else to do.” You spared a shy glance at him before staring down again. “...Uraume filled me in, though. You were dealing with so much shit. All that crap with the Zenins. And you didn’t even–you didn’t even know I was knocked up until I wasn’t.” You sighed and sipped your drink before setting it aside. “Guess it was easier to blame you for everything than it was to just accept I got unlucky.”

“‘Unlucky’?” Sukuna repeated lowly, void of mirth for once.

You nodded. “Chromosome bullshit, garbage genetics, a shitty cervix. Coulda been anything.” Sukuna watched your expression shift from desolate to bitter. “And if you fuck up once and lose your pup, odds are it’ll happen again.”

“Says who?”

“Science. Doctors.”

“You really gonna take their word like that?” Your eyes met his, doey and expectant. “I'll gut ‘em myself if they say that shit next time you're knocked up.”

You looked a bit bashful then, looking away from him with pursed lips and glossy eyes. For a second, Sukuna thought you were about to snap and argue with him about how you vowed to never get pregnant again (which he'd indulge in), or maybe even bolt for the door (which he wouldn't allow), but instead, you grabbed the remote.

“Tch. Don't say such stupid shit. It's annoying.”

Sukuna could only grin to himself as you settled in beside him, tucking up against his side. Neither of you could swallow your pride enough to properly apologize for anything ever, but that wasn't necessarily needed–understanding was what was needed. Things had just become a little bit clearer.

–

For once, the alpha found himself at ease. Sure, you had your petty and some less-than-petty spats, but there was a coil of contentment that stayed at the forefront of Sukuna's mind through it all. Now, he no longer fumed nor bristled, no longer wondered if you really belonged to him, no longer thought about how to trap you if he wanted to keep you around.

Because you made more of an effort to see him, to call when you couldn't, to set his vicious wolf's heart at ease so he could rest soundly. He rested the most when you were so gracious as to curl up in those black, silken sheets with him, too.

Don't get too excited. It's just because we're mated; we'd go insane otherwise, Is how you rationalized it. And, honestly, it was cute to see you act so flippant and uncaring when Sukuna knew you were so the opposite.

Little liar. Loves playing pretend. He gently tucked stray hairs behind your ear as you snoozed soundly beside him. It was unlike you to sleep in so late (“late” meaning past 6am), and it was unlike Sukuna to wake up before you, so it must have been kismet.

Because this moment was the first in a long time where he got to touch you. Beyond the playful ass slaps and grabs at your hips, you never really let him feel you. Or did he just never try to touch you like this? Gently, just for the sake of feeling your skin and your warmth?

Sukuna was a brutal man. He didn't often have a chance to be careful. If he'd had that kid, then he might've learned how; he could've learned not to throw glasses at skylines, not to lash out at his omega, not to expect you to still love you when he broke you.

He brushed his thumb along your cheek and down to your jaw, admiring the soft skin and strong angle that led him to the curve of your chin, and your perfect lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. It'd been an eternity since he had a taste of you. Maybe if he was gentle–

I can do gentle. Sukuna shifted the slightest bit towards you until his nose lightly brushed against yours, until he felt your light breaths fan against his skin. Ah, why was his heart beating so fast now?

He did his best to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears when he brushed his lips against yours once more, before he kissed you softly. Gently. Perfectly. And he took his time parting. He had to savour the taste of your lips against his because who knew when he'd get to kiss you again?

I love you, he heard echo in his memories when your lips parted. But he never heard himself reply.

“Love you too, brat,” he murmured. “Don't you dare think otherwise.”

Your eyes opened a moment later. “You mean that?” came your reply, just as light and whispered. Sukuna felt waves of heat come off your skin–were you blushing?

Crimson eyes flickered from your bashful look to the slight parting of your lips and back again. “Always.” Even though he never said it. But he let you get away with everything to show that love–credit card theft, cracking him upside the head with a bottle, abandoning him for months on end.

A soft ‘hm’ hummed through you. Your sleepy gaze melted from Sukuna’s, and down to his lips, too, while your own pursed, pensive. Thoughtful. Christ, you were really something else–just a single look from you had his mind reeling, his chest easing into a warmth so reminiscent of a campfire, the sort you both used to sit around when you’d bullied Sukuna into buying one for his too-big balcony.

Back then, you were just “friends,” though the flirting and meaningful touches said otherwise. You were still a street doctor, introduced to him by Yuuji of all people, but you had more pep in your step, especially when you worked to try and swoon the hardened, deranged alpha you’d decided belonged to you. You’re mine, you said simply after shooting whatever whore the big, bad boss had hired for the night. The look in your eyes, cold and determined, got Sukuna achingly hard in an instant. He never wanted you to look at anyone else like that–your rage, your obsession, it could only ever be for him.

“‘M I still yours?” You still want me? You still love me? Am I still just for you?

You looked a little sentimental. A little sad, too, maybe. But maybe it was just the culmination of your fears and worries, your wants and desires finally breaking through your solemn being.

“I'm a minimalist at heart. I've only got room for so much.”

“Don't tell me you're back on that Kondo Marie kick–”

“But you're something I can't do without.” Yeah, I love you. I want you. I don't want much, but I want you. You're mine. “You bring me joy, or whatever the saying is. But I wanna beat the shit outta you sometimes for being a dumbass.”

Sukuna laughed and nudged your nose with his–a small, primal gesture of fondness. “Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Tch. You're gonna have to be careful--you're gonna send my old ass to an early grave if you keep up with all this fiery youth shit.”

“Then I can inherit your fortune,” you offered airily before kissing him teasingly. Sukuna growled when your small fangs dug into his bottom lip playfully. “That'd be nice.”

“Hah. Everything's going to family–Yuuji, the old fart.” Sukuna pulled you in closer and purred as you complied. “You'd have to–”

“I'll marry you if that's what it takes,” you cooed, and Sukuna froze. You paused for a moment, too, before lifting yourself up to look down at his dumb face. “Oi.” You pat his cheek lightly but he scowled at you, half-cranky, half-defeated. “Eeeh? You mad?”

“Tch.”

“Awe, big alpha's mad.”

“Don't.” A command. A warning. One that had your subgender reeling and whimpering behind you, but your human side smiling, ready to mock.

You slid on top of him, straddling his waist and splaying your hands out on his broad, solid chest. Sukuna still kept his gaze elsewhere. Honestly, you couldn't blame him--you were in a mood.

“Oi,” you prodded, poking at his ridiculous pecs and tracing over the dark lines of his irezumi. “Hey. Don't pout.” But he grabbed your hands when your stupid fingers threatened to assault his nipples, and he continued to pout. “Come on, I said I'd marry you.”

“Tch.” You've said that before.

“I mean it.”

“Tch.” You’ve said that before, too.

You leaned down, and nuzzled the hollow of his cheek while he grumbled and grumped. “You don't like the idea of breeding me anymore? You don't want me to yourself, all caught up in your bedsheets with you between my legs? Hm? You don't wanna fuck me through my heat, knock me up a few more times, make me bare your children for the world to see how I belong to Ryoumen Sukuna? You don't want me to be drenched in your scent–”

You squeaked when your man flipped you around, pinning you before ripping off the sleep shorts keeping your skin from him. His rough fingers dove deep into your slicked up hole (apparently your long list of hypotheticals had worked you up into a soft, wet, pliant thing) and hurried to stretch you wide.

“Such an annoying little shit,” Sukuna grumbled. And you laughed, lightly and so achingly genuinely through your fluttery mewls and moans. “If you try ‘n back out this time, I'll break your fucking legs and tie you down to the bed, you got that? I'm not gonna be so fucking nice this time.”

“Eh? You were being nice last–” you whined when his wet fingers jammed into your mouth. But you obediently sucked and bit at them, holding onto his muscled arm for leverage while he kicked off his bottoms and pressed his sweltering tip to your soft entrance.

“You got no idea, princess.” Sukuna pushed in, groaning with ancient, cursed need as your insides welcomed him and obeyed, letting his uncomfortable size push you open. Seemed your body still remembered him. Wanted him as much as your stupid pretty mouth claimed.

You were gasping, your molars chewing into his fingers as your missing piece slid back into place, filling you up until it hurt to breathe. Strong thighs clamped down against Sukuna’s sides as he dragged you down, forcing the last bits of his cock into your very depths, squeezing a reedy whine out of you, before he pulled out and slammed right back in again and again and again.

Your cry nearly sent him over the edge. It was a loud, bassy thing, something like a cello toppling or having its string plucked too hard by a callous touch–a sound Sukuna reveled in. You were the only partner he'd had that was like this, so demanding and bitchy, absolutely horrible and as poisonous as alphas were, and he loved it. He lived and died by your gospel, by the very life that thrummed underneath his touch.

And you promised to be all his. Sukuna could have everything, anything and anyone, and that apparently included trapping and claiming a god. One that only he prayed to. One that'd only smile upon him. One that only delivered to him divine blessings.

What a divine gift.

He folded you in half with ease and blanketed your trembling body with his own. The fingers fucking into your mouth slipped out and down to your throat where they squeezed lightly; then, they traveled to the back of your neck, found your cute little nape, and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as your body arched up into him. Words left you in some ancient tongue neither you nor Sukuna could decipher. But it was a language of love and pleasure, the sort that brought delicious submission coiling through your blood in offering to the lowly creature devouring your holiness.

“Sukuna,” you choked out. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to the old, scarred mark left there by him a decade ago. “‘Kuna, I need–”

The boss laughed low, but with fluttery, manic high tones warped throughout. “Need me to bite you? Mark you mine again?” He taunted. His nails dug into your soft side as he fucked into you harder, lifting your waist up to meet his brutal angle as his base started to swell. “I wanna hear you say it–say you need it, you want it. Say you need me to fill your guts every fucking night. Say I'm the only one who can get you there. I'm the only one–” his other hand grabbed your nape harder, forcing your submission further, forcing your neck to the side to present it to him.

Then, with a snarl, he added, “say ‘I do.’”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you murmured those very words into his ear.

I do.

Sukuna's heart howled with the beast living inside him. Blood flooded his mouth when he tore into your shoulder, digging deeper than needed to brand you his again just before his pulsing knot squeezed into you and locked into place, stilling his wild rampage and holding you hostage beneath his hulking body.

You shifted and writhed against him, so obviously overwhelmed by such an archaic, crazed union–your omega must have been going wild, willing you to fight against the monster pouring his seed into you, locking you in place, taking away your autonomy. But a short, rough warning growl settled your inner self the slightest bit and straightened out your thoughts enough for your human pettiness to urge you, too, to sink teeth into flesh and mark up your alpha to complete the re-bonding.

Good boy. Sukuna's hips rutted against you in light pulses, attempting to jam his knot further into you to ensure you'd take everything he so graciously offered you. But every little move your bodies made together tore more hot strings of cum out of him and into your core. Apparently an eternity of not having you was culminating into this one moment.

You were the one to let go first. You collapsed onto your back with a loud sigh, and the crushing constriction of your thighs laxed just slightly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, wholly content and pleased. Your hand wiggled between your bodies and rested on the still-inflating curve that your partner had oh-so loving built out of cum and obsessive dedication. “That's gonna make a mess.”

Good. Sukuna's chainsaw purr reverberated against your bloodied skin. He chewed into you further and relished in the taste and smell of you, the way it mingled with his own scent of existence and made him feel so irrevocably whole.

Your fingers laced through his hair as you laughed. “Oi, let go already. Your knot's not gonna go down for like thirty minutes. I'm not going anywhere.”

Your mate obliged, dislodging his chunky fangs from you and lapping at the wound dutifully until the bleeding staunched. Next, he got to work leaving an array of dark hickies and light bites all over your neck and shoulder, just in case the gnarly bite mark wasn't enough to ward off idiots who thought they had a chance with you. He grumbled at the mere idea of it.

“So?” You cooed, running your hands up and down his muscled shoulders. “What do we do for half an hour?”

Sukuna scoffed. He tried to pull out just a bit, just to see if he was seriously locked in there, and you spat a vile hiss his way, your nails digging into him at the same time. And, fuck, you were tight–

“Fuck.” He didn't think this through.

-- DRABBLES --

“You're dumb as fuck, you know that?”

“Ah, such romantic words to hear from my wife.”

“Husband, jackass.”

Sukuna managed to open his eyes through the pounding of his head. God, he felt like shit. But that probably came with the territory of getting shot point-blank before bailing out of a moving car on the highway. Honestly, he was lucky only one car hit him when he hit the pavement.

Still, it was bad enough to warrant him a ticket to the hospital. Uraume worked behind the scenes, ensuring their boss got a private room and that the police would stay the fuck away if they knew what was good for them, and it all somehow worked out. Uraume was definitely a sorcerer of sorts.

“Can you save it for home? Fucking hell,” Sukuna groaned, letting his eyes fall shut again. “Too tired to argue.”

“That's a first,” You huffed, and marched up to his side, sitting down in the cozy seat waiting for you. Your careful touch prodded at his hand gently, as if assessing the damage, guestimating if you could hold his hand without hurting him, but he made the choice for you. He caught your hand weakly, and you held him safe with both of yours.

“Missed you,” he grumbled, squeezing back lamely. “Have fun on the trip at least?”

“Yeah, until I heard what happened.” You sighed, watery and warbled. “I shouldn't have left. You're too stupid to survive alone.”

Sukuna laughed, then coughed. He felt you tense. “F-Fuck you, little shit. I'm fine.”

“You got shot.”

“Been shot before.”

“Jumped out of a car.”

“I've jumped outta faster.”

“Then got hit by another car.”

“That was a first.”

You sighed to fight back either a sob or ill-placed laughter, or maybe both. “This is so fucking ridiculous. Never make me take a vacation again. I can't be off fucking around in Hawaii when my baby daddy's getting hit like it's GTA.”

“Christ, I already–” he paused, though, and cracked an eye open to look at you. “What did you…”

He lost his words when he saw you. Your skin glowed in a way he hadn't had the luxury to see before. Your face looked rounder, too, like you'd put on a little bit of weight since you'd been gone. But your scent–your usual sweet, full-bodied scent of flowery coffee was cranked up to a trillion. If Sukuna's nose wasn't busted, he would've noticed the way it filled up the room, and he might've noticed how his own scent rose to meet it in greeting. Something strange was happening.

“Oh. Right. Uh…” you cleared your throat and hastily tucked some hair behind your ear. You looked a little bit lost for words too, in all honesty. “I’m pregn–”

Sukuna sat up. You barked at him to lay down, your voice rising a few octaves when something that was probably important dislodged from his wrist as he reached forward when you stood. And you froze when his palm pressed against your stomach–a natural, maternal thing to do. Sukuna remembered when he caught your cat for you when she was trying to dart out the door whilst pregnant, and how she froze dead in her tracks when his hand caught her by her kitten-filled stomach, and let him carry her back inside.

But this was different. This wasn’t his partner’s cat’s kittens he was feeling, it was yours. His. A shared little nugget doing its best to grow big for its expectant mama–and now expectant papa.

“How long?” Sukuna rasped. When did his throat get so dry?

“Two months. Ish.” You rested your hands over his again despite the awkward angle he caught you at. “I didn’t know until last week. I tried to call, but–” You got obliterated and couldn’t answer your phone.

“I get it. Don’t gotta explain.” Sukuna gazed at your stomach a moment longer with droopy, half-lidded eyes before looking up at you as nurses burst into the room. “You’re moving in.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

–

“Dude, you guys can't fuck when he's pregnant! You'll crush the baby like a tin can!”

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth as your tea shot out your nose. You coughed and wheezed, turning away and waving at the brothers in a desperate plea for them to not look and continue their petty argument.

Sukuna, caught between the urge to mock you and kick the shit out of his annoying little fucknut brother, sighed and rubbed his face before handing you his fancy handkerchief he kept tucked in the breast of his jacket for nothing but looks. These days, though, the damn thing had been paying its dues.

“You think I'm gonna listen to a fuckin’ virgin about this kinda shit?” Sukuna quipped back as he watched you clean up before trying to take a sip of your drink again.

“Hey, man, I'm just saying. Your dick is like a third leg.”

You slammed your hand down on the table after spitting a mouthful of tea back into your cup. “Yuuji. Please. Why do you even know that?”

Yuuji pouted and scooted closer to you under the kotatsu. “Wh--we're brothers! It's not even that weird!”

“It's weird as shit,” Sukuna offered as he reached out to rub your back.

“So not weird.” His honeyed eyes locked onto the small affection the older showed you. “Man, so not fair you guys are ganging up on me now that you're, like, a thing,” Yuuji whined and let his arms and chest flop across the table like a petulant child.

Sukuna smirked. “Jealous?”

You grumbled. “Sukuna. Don't start.”

Yuuji's ears turned bright red. “Jea–what?! No! I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence, not--I don't–”

“N'awe, little pup's tryna cope with losing.” Sukuna grinned wildly when Yuuji's head snapped up, pinning a deadly stare onto the older alpha. “Oh? Finally grow a pair?”

“Sukuna,” you warned again.

“You better shut it, dude,” Yuuji threatened next, and you knew it was a lost cause; two alpha brothers, both incredibly competitive, both pining for the same omega, spelled disaster.

Your partner laughed that familiar, ugly laugh–the sort that was too genuine and sounded borderline insane. “Or what? You gonna make me cry–”

Yuuji launched over the table in an instant, tackling his brother to the ground with a bratty snarl. You watched on, unimpressed, waiting for any signs of their wrestling turning into a serious fight, but it never came. So, you enjoyed it a bit. It wasn't everyday the two idiots played nice.

You rested your hands on your curved stomach while the two growled and snarled half-heartedly in their dumb attempt to subdue the other. Sukuna could've won in an instant, you both knew that, but he'd let Yuuji think he had a fighting chance for a little bit. It was part of the fun for him, letting his little brother gnaw on him like it'd do anything, letting him try to use his horrible jiu-jitsu skills on his older, bigger brother. It reminded you of–

“Oh,” you peeped when a rowdy kick jostled your hand. It didn't come from the boys, no, it came from the tiny tot inside you.

The boys froze and stared at you.

“Huh? What's ‘oh'?” Yuuji asked through his panting and straining. Sukuna had him in a headlock, one of his hands giving a brutal noogie to the younger's head.

“No, just–I think she kicked. Maybe not, I don't–” but your expression brightened with delight when another little throw hit your hand.

“No shit?” Sukuna grinned, waves of excited alpha scent rolling off of him. He face-shoved Yuuji away before sidling up next to you and pressing his palm against your stomach. You guided his touch to rest over the kicky hotspot, and sure enough–

Thump. Thump.

“Two kicks for your old man, hey?” Sukuna hummed, looking so damn triumphant.

“Hey, hey, I wanna feel!” Yuuji scrambled over like a nightmare and wiggled up on your other side, pointedly ignoring the snarl Sukuna sent his way. “Come on, it's my niece, chill out.”

Sukuna growled again, but you pulled his hand off to let Yuuji feel the little life making herself known. His eyes, too, lit up when those tiny thwacks battered his palm.

You looked up at Sukuna dreamily, making the other's ticked expression smooth down into just mildly-annoyed; if your omega wasn't threatened, then he wasn't going to threaten. Sukuna didn't think Yuuji would hurt you, absolutely not, but anyone who came near you, or so much as accidentally bumped into you, pissed Sukuna off, sending his over-protective instincts into overdrive. He always had to rely on you to know when not to react.

“That's so cool!” Yuuji squeaked. “She's seriously in there!”

“Where the fuck else would she be,” Sukuna grumped.

“Don't ruin his fun, Sukuna.”

“Yeah, don’t ruin my fun!”

“Yuuji’s banned from the house.”

“WH–HEY!!”

“Sukuna.”

“Heh.”

“What about gramps, then?”

Sukuna paused. His heart stopped for a long, long moment.

“What about him?” He answered, nonchalantly as possible. “Old fuck cut me off years ago.”

“He still cares,” Yuuji offered with a shrug. “And I told him about the pup ‘n everything.”

Sukuna frowned. “Yuuji–”

“You seriously think he doesn't give a shit? Dude, be real, the guy raised us.”

“That's generous.”

“Didn't you say you were leaving everything to Yuuji and ‘the old fart’ originally?” You cooed, unhelpful as ever.

Carmine eyes found yours. “...If he actually wants to meet her–”

“Awesome, I’ll let him know!”

“Oi, runt–”

But Yuuji jumped up and pulled his phone out, leaving Sukuna to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into while you laughed at his misery.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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