#and when i come back to it HE was absent so i couldn't call him back and also i won't wait for him to come back online so i can talk to him

[tardis--dreams]

Feeling homicidal at work today ♡

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Bruce Wayne, mentor to many- father to none.

I want the angst of B having to come to terms that he doesn't know ANY of his kids not anymore at least and maybe never and the fact his kids are just- used to it?

Visiting Dicks apartment, he finds a picture of him smiling while surrounded by a bunch of little kids in spandax uniforms. Turns out he'd been a gymnastics instructor for about four years now and his most recent team had everyone qualify for state. (Bruce didn't even know he still practiced)

Jason stopped accepting Wednesday night patrols, but when he looked into it he found out that was the night he went to DND nights with his roommates every week. The roommates he met last semester after he decided to go to college and get an english major. (Bruce didn't even know he had applied)

Checking the library he found a small pedastal plague put up by Alfred displaying just one book. It said Cass was the author. Apparently she had gotten super into writing and published a book talking about language deprivation and lack of accomidation for deaf/hoh children born to hearing families. She had a book signing last month, Alfred had gone and grabbed this copy now on display (Bruce didn't even know she liked to write)

Tim finished a case early and let it slip he needed to sign off early to "meet up with his boyfriends" and hung up before Bruce could process. It only took a small glance at his middle child's latest social media post to see him alongside Superboy (what was his name?) and a blonde boy he didn't recognize. Both were leaned in to kiss his cheek and the caption said "Happy 3rd anniversary!!" (Bruce didn't even know he was interested in boys)

Steph's birthday came around and Bruce got her a new account and shoved a couple thousand for her to buy whatever she wanted. But he quickly noticed a pattern of everyone getting her- cat supplies? Apparently She had adopted a cat about a month ago to celebrate her new apartment, Mister Mystery was his name, and she had asked everyone for supplies instead of other gifts. (Bruce didn't even know she had moved)

He decided on some impromptu father-son bonding and tries to track down his youngest. But Damian is nowhere to be found. He gets pretty close to calling an emergency meeting but the moment he messages Oracle she reminds him Damian is in Chicago. Damian had won an art competition at school and his piece qualified for a gallery spot. The entire family had gone days ago and he was due back the next day. (Bruce didn't even know he cared about art)

Then Duke- his youngest in terms of time spent. But one he had grown fond of just as fast as the others. Especially working the day shift the time they spent was limited. Bruce got them both lunch, but it wasn't until halfway through eating that Duke had turned to him with panicked eyes and asked if the stew had shellfish. Duke had a severe allergy, thankfully Jason had been just up the street and had an epi-pen ready before they took him to Leslies. (Bruce didnt even know he had any allergies, let alone one so severe)

The worst part? There was no blow up. His kids didn't take his idiocracy as a personal insult or even raise a fight. They just rolled their eyes and moved on. As everyone crowded in the room, surrounding Dukes bedside he could hear Barbras voice. "Its not your fault, Batman may be omnipotent, but Bruce doesn't know anything really"

He wasnt meant to overhear or maybe he was, Oracle had always been petty But he couldn't refute it.

"But you have us"

Well- thats just it wasnt it? Even when Bruce was absent- his kids had each other. But was that ever meant to be enough?

[cherrywade]

"Do you think Eddie likes me?" The question leaves Steve's mouth absently, like an afterthought. Wayne watches his shoulders tense as he holds the cabnet door up. His eyes are on the floor. His cheeks going red. Wayne hums genlty, trying not to laugh in Steve's face. If he only knew.

Instead he sits with the question for a moment, keeps working, tightening the screws till they're snug. He nods at Steve, he lets go. Wayne swings the door back and forth a few times. No squeaks. And it doesn't fall off into his hands. He and Steve both nod at the same time, satisfied, Steve's hands dropping to his hips.

"Does he bite you?" Wayne asks, trying to sound as thoughtful as Steve had with his question. Steve stares at him. Wayne raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie. Does he ever bite you?" He repeats, giving Steve a pointed look.

"Oh! Um.. he... yeah? S-sometimes." Steve stammers a bit, his brow furrowing as he rubs at the back of his neck. And then his hand falls to his shoulder. And then drops by his side and clenches. Wayne smiles.

"You ever heard'a cuteness aggression?" Wayne asks, putting his tools back into their box and stashing it on top of the fridge. Steve shakes his head and frowns again. Wayne nods, motions for the small table and sits, Steve following him and sitting across from him.

"Well what I understand of it, and I'm getting this information from Eddie so... take it as you will." Steve smiles, a knowing look passing his face as he nods, and yeah, this kid has it bad for his boy.

"It's when someone thinks something is so cute it makes them violent. And Ed's got it bad. Took him ages to get it under control. What do you think happened to Gilberts ear?" Wayne nods toward the couch where their chunky brown tabby cat is napping. He looks up at the mention of his name and meows inquisitively.

"Oh my god what?!" Steve gasps, his hand jumping to cover his mouth. Wayne snorts.

"I'm just messin with ya kid. He was like that when Ed found him." Wayne smiles. Steve looks at him, straight faced, unimpressed. One of Eddie's favorite looks to wax poetic about.

"Very funny." He says dryly. Wayne chuckles, taps his hand on the table and says,

"I thought so. Anyway, point is. If that boy's teeth have sunk into you at some point. Odds are he likes ya just fine." Wayne smiles warmly, watches the gears turning in Steve's head, his brow furrowing and then relaxing as his mouth drops open in a little "O".

"So he'd say yes. If I- I mean if I wanted to-" he watches Steve swallow nervously.

"If you asked him out. Yes. I believe he would say yes." Wayne just watches Steve, takes a sip of his coffee. Steve nods to himself.

"Okay. Okay cool. I can do this. Awesome. Thank you!" He'd stood, hands wiping at his thighs, patting down his pockets, looking for his keys, before startling and turning back to Wayne to thank him.

"They're on the table by the door. And you're welcome son." He took another sip.

"And Steve?" He calls as Steve's hand hits the door, the boy turns to look at him, wide eyed.

"Yeah?"

"He can be a little... dense. When it comes to these things. Best to be forward. To the point." Wayne nods again, gives Steve a knowing look. Watches as his head tilts like a puppy as he processes.

"Forward. To the point. Okay. I got this." Steve said, nodding, to himself really, before darting out the door.

Wayne shakes his head, smiles as he cleans out his coffee cup and hopes that he'd done right by his boy. He couldn't take much more of Eddie's love sick puppy eyes. And Steve had been doing them for a few months now as well, and it was all too much. It had to be done.

~*~

Three hours later the trailer door slams open and Eddie rushes in. Steve hot on his heels, hand locked in Eddie's as he drags him down the hall.

"Evening boys." Wayne says, nonchalant, from his place near the stove, leaning against the counter.

"Hi Wayne!" Steve calls, happy and polite.

"No!" Eddie says, points at Steve aggressively and then to Wayne.

"No more talking! You two have talked enough today!" He half yells, and then drags Steve into his room, both of them laughing. His door slams shut. And then promptly opens again. Eddie bounds into the little kitchen, right into Wayne's space, and nearly tackles him in a tight hug.

Wayne squeezes him back, feels Eddie's lips press gently against his shoulder and then he's gone. Twirling away from his uncle's hold.

"Thanks Wayne." He says, his eyes bright and shining, his cheeks dimpled with happiness, and, right along his jaw, the imprint of teeth. A bitemark. Right on his face.

Wayne nods, and smiles as Eddie disappears into his room again. He can hear them talking and laughing through the wall as he makes dinner. Dinner for three now. As it has been for months.

He cooks. And he thinks. Three hours later and Steve still had to bite him to get his point across. Wayne shakes his head, smiling as he breaks the noodles and tosses them into the water, happy that his boys were finally happy.

[endearng]

Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

[envy-of-the-apple]

older reader?? SAY NO MORE

you're a confident, popular, charismatic lady in your 30s. you catch a pretty, barely-not-teenage gojo at a bar about to get roofied and rescue him.

you're neither a paragon of moral virtues but apparently you do still have some maternal instincts because you take him aside, help him sober up, and give him a stern but well-meaning lecture about watching drinks, staying safe, etc. maybe he gets a headpat and a caring look while you do this.

that's where you thought this would end but to gojo had absent parents and is starved of all forms of affection, including maternal, so he absolutely cannot let this end here and he will exploit his prettiness, his pitifulness, AND your maternal instincts to the max.

if wires get crossed and he manages to get you to bang him (and hopefully feel so guilty about taking advantage that he can get you to stay with him) then even better!!

omgggggyou know me so well-

(Warnings: manipulation, guilt-tripping, large age gap but both characters are 21+, implied non/dubcon, implied drugging)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Bad Night

When you open your eyes, your head is pounding.

Last night is a blur, but you get the big picture. You drank too much, and you brought someone home.

He's a cuddler, pressing you against his bare chest, a long arm wrapped around your naked body. It'd be a cute way to wake up if you weren't so sweaty and already in a bad mood.

You're debating on how to kick him out when he shifts behind you. He yawns, one hand reaching up to draw circles on your waist.

"You wake up pretty early."

It's not a stranger's voice. You know him.

You turn your head, almost afraid to look. He gives a sleepy smile.

"...Satoru?"

"Mornin'." Taking advantage of your shock, he gives a quick peck on your lips.

It's a jumpstart for the memories of last night to kick in. Satoru had invited you out, you had a bad day at work and you took the offer, you took shot after shot, one thing lead after another and then-

Shit.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and you doubt you're managing to hide the horror off your face all that well. His usually carefree attitude melted into concern.

"Feeling' alright? I wasn't too rough last night, was I?"

When you open your mouth, the only thing that comes out is a strangled 'I'm fine'.

"That's good." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "I was worried I hurt you or somethin'. Last night was perfect, by the way. Everythin' I dreamed of, baby."

Baby. You want to throw up.

"Oh, you must be hungry." Satoru frowns, clicking his tongue. "Uh, wait here, I'll go whip somethin' up."

Another kiss, this time on your cheek, before he's sliding off your bed. He's naked. You squeeze your eyes closed when he starts to put on his pants. You keep them closed until the door shuts behind him.

What the fuck did you just do?

You know what you did. You just had sex with someone more than a decade younger than you. You can't even remember it, but the evidence was all around you. Your panties laying crumbled on the floor. The ache between your legs. The bitemarks on your chest, your legs.

You fucked up.

Satoru was by chance You weren't supposed to talk to him, let alone meet him. You were at the right place, at the right time. You happened to catch smug asshole putting something in the oblivious kid's drink. You happened to grab it right before Satoru could, before dumping it on the asshole's face.

Looking back, it wasn't your finest moment. You nearly got the police called on you, but ever since that day, Satoru clung onto you like Velcro. He didn't leave you alone for the rest of the night. You thought your lecture would have embarrassed him enough to leave, which kid wants to be scolded by a thirty-year old? If anything, that might have sparked his admiration for you.

He was determined. Before you knew it, Satoru was everywhere. He spammed you with texts everyday, when he couldn't call. He'd constantly invite you to places adults way past their college years should not be going. Despite your absolute refusal to visit his dorm, you found yourself reluctantly letting him into your house, picking him up from parties when he was too drunk to drive. He'd told you things he'd never told anyone before.

You knew what was happening, you weren't stupid. And unhealthy infatuation. Young, starved for attention, eager to please. You saw the signs, you tried to set boundaries, but you thought you could help him somehow. Your savior's complex grew too big...you thought you could help him.

And then, you ended up sleeping with him.

It wasn't illegal. You knew he was over 18, at the very least. You still feel nothing but nauseating disgust. When you looked down at your hands, they felt dirty.

You needed to fix this, somehow. You needed to tell Satoru that this was a mistake. Rip the band-aide off, nice and clean.

You ignore the crumbled clothes on the floor: your flimsy dress, Satoru's shirt. Instead, you go to the closet and pull out baggy pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. You needed to hide as much skin as possible. To preserve the remnants of dignity you had left.

You stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes, practicing what you were gonna say over and over again. I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I was drunk, I took advantage of you, it's not your fault. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

When you step outside your sanctuary, you smell something that makes your stomach growl.

Satoru's standing over a sizzling pan with a smile on his face. He knows his way around your kitchen because he's been here before, doing homework on your countertops. You feel sick all over again.

"Hey." He pouts when you inch closer. "I told you to stay in bed, didn't I? Silly." He reaches over, pinching your cheek in affection.

You swallow and you finally manage to steel yourself.

"Satoru, we need to talk-"

"And done!" Satoru cheers, setting down a plate. "Hungry? You gotta' be, right? We did a whole workout last night." You cringe at his choice of words, wishing he'd stop mentioning your biggest blunder.

When you don't move, he picks up some food with his fork, hovering it close to your lips.

"C'mon. At least try it." He urges. "I promise it's good. Please?"

You look into his baby blue doe eyes. Wide and earnest and eager. When you accept the offering, he glows.

He feeds you like this, one forkful at a time. When you ask why he isn't eating, he just shakes his head.

"I don't think it'll stay down." He admits. "I'm so happy, it almost feels like I'm dreaming."

You clear your throat. Hopefully, you can steer this conversation into something more productive. "Satoru, about last night-"

"Did you like it?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

"Last night." He says with a sheepish smile. "Did-did you like it? Was I any good?"

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. "I-"

"It was my first time!" He blurts out with clear impulsiveness, and your heart stops. "I-I was pretty nervous. 'Had no fuckin' idea what I was doing, but it looked like you liked it. Right?"

He looks at you with those wide eyes, filled with genuine sincerity and you want to throw yourself off a ledge because not only did you not remember having sex with him, you don't remember taking his virginity.

You were a horrible person.

"It...was a nice night." You mutter quietly.

He beams again, it does nothing to assuage your guilt.

Fuck this all. You needed to put a stop to this. You needed to stop stringing this poor kid along. You needed to be the bad guy.

But, like always, Satoru makes the first move.

He rounds the countertop, coming to a stop by your chair. Satoru kneels to the floor, taking your hands within his owns. If it were anyone else, you would have melted.

Not him. Anyone but him.

"I meant what I said yesterday." He quietly says. "I know you still think I'm young, but I'm 22. I'm more than old enough to treat you the way you deserve to be treated." Oh God. When you turn away, he's reaching out, placing a hand on your cheek. You're forced to stare at him.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." He smiles. "I-I always thought you'd never see me that way, but then you said you liked me too and-"

"Wait wait, hold on." You interrupt. "What?"

He suddenly looks unsure, his gaze darting around. "At the bar last night. I confessed, and you said it back."

That doesn't sound like you. If anything, when you're drunk, you're annoyingly honest. You've never seen Satoru as more than a kid how could you have said that to him?

But he can't be lying. Not with those eyes. Eyes that were suddenly starting to fall like dying stars.

"Oh..." He trails off. "Did you not mean it?"

He handed you your chance on a silver platter. It was a mistake. I was drunk. I've never seen you like that. I took advantage of you.

You can break his heart, here and now. You take in a breath.

"No." You smile. "Of course I meant it. I...really really like you, Satoru."

His smiles returns and he's leaping up. You can't stop him from kissing you, but he's quick, flitting away just as quickly to give you a hug.

"I'm so glad." He whispers. "I'll make you happy, I promise. I'll do anything for you."

You pat his back, still in a daze.

Satoru is smart. He's a physics major, he's got to be smart. You just need to pretend to date him for a while before he realizes that you're too old for him. Then, he'll leave you for someone his age.

He'll snap out of it eventually, right?

[lostfracturess]

─── games and matches | ch. 03

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 12.5 k (chapter 3/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, light angst, age difference, unprotected sex, public sex, sad sex?, masturbation, penetration, oral (female receiving), in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — hello again !! we've reached the final chapter of our story. brace yourselves for a bit of angst and emotion, but don't worry, a happy ending is on the horizon. so, get comfy, grab your fave snack, and let's jump into this last chapter & happy reading <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

In the days following the party, your father had been livid. 

He'd ranted and raved, furious at what he saw as Satoru's betrayal and your reckless naivety. He'd had a long, serious talk with you, demanding that you end things with Satoru immediately and return to college to focus on your studies.

But the truth was, there hadn't been anything to end with Satoru. 

Not really. 

You'd tried to reason with him, to make him understand that Satoru was not using you and you wanted it too. But he'd been unmovable, insisting that he knew what was best for you, that Satoru was too old, too experienced, too much of a player to ever take you seriously.

Your dad was usually a gentle man at heart.

But you'd never seen him so angry.

But despite his anger towards Satoru, your dad couldn't find it in himself to be truly angry with you. Still, you could see the disappointment in his eyes, so you'd had no choice but to capitulate, agreeing to return to college and focus on your studies, putting some distance between yourself and Satoru. 

But somehow, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

You went through the motions of college life, attending classes and studying late into the night, all the while your thoughts wander back to the man that changed your whole world in mere days.

You counted the days until break, until you could see him again, touch him again, lose yourself in the heat of him again.

It was stupid, really.

You've known him your entire life, but this thing between you, it's new.

And it's irrational, illogical, and yet, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame, craving his presence, his touch, as if you'd never realized what you were missing until now. 

It doesn't make sense.

And then, one night as you lay in your dorm room, your roommate out at some party or another — your phone rang. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Satoru's name on the screen, your pulse picking up speed as you fumbled to answer.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite lawyer," you drawled, a smile already on your lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night call?"

"What, a man can't just call his favorite girl?"

"Aw, you're making me blush. But seriously, what's up?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice, check in on you. That's all."

Your smile softened, your free hand absently playing with the hem of your shirt. 

Oh, his voice.

There was something about his voice that always managed to put you at ease, no matter how stressed you were feeling. It was like a soothing balm, washing over you and melting away all your worries. 

You could listen to him talk for hours, getting lost in the rich timbre of his voice, the way it seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace. 

Again.

It was stupid, really.

"I'm okay. I mean, Dad's still not thrilled about...us, but he's coming around. He could never stay mad at me for long. You, on the other hand...you might want to steer clear of him for a while,” you said after a pause.

“Yeah, I figured as much. My jaw still hurts like hell. Can't say I blame him though. If I had a daughter, I'd probably want to throttle any man who looked at her twice, too."

“Flatterer. You're just trying to butter me up so I'll send you dirty pictures or something."

"Love, I don't need to butter you up for that. I've got a whole album on my phone that says you're more than happy to oblige me without any sweet talking necessary."

You could hear the grin in his voice, and you huffed out a laugh. "Shut up. I still can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"Oh, I didn't have to do much talking, if I recall. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was your idea to—"

"Anyway," you interrupted. "Other than missing my revealing pictures, how have you been? How's work?"

Are you seriously asking him about work right now? 

Stupid, really.

But somehow you genuinely wanted to know, wanted to know what's happening in his life.

Satoru hummed, and you could picture him stretching out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head. "Work is work. Busy, stressful, the usual. But I'd rather hear about you. How are classes? How's tennis? Any campus heartthrobs I need to come beat up for sniffing around my girl?"

You smiled, your heart warming at the fond possessiveness in his voice, the easy way he called you 'his girl'. Like it was a foregone conclusion, like there could never be anyone else for either of you.

You laid back more on the bed, starring up the ceiling. “Things are fine. Classes are kicking my ass, but I'm surviving. And tennis is... tennis. Lots of training and sore muscles. The usual."

"Sore muscles huh, there's an image," Satoru purred, his voice dipping low, taking on that gravelly edge that never failed to raise goosebumps on your skin. "You know, if you ever need help with that, I'm more than happy to volunteer my ser—"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"You're stupid."

"You love it."

"Mm. Debatable."

"Liar." But he was laughing as he said it, bright and boyish, and the ache in your chest eased a bit.

God, you'd missed this. 

Missed him?

No. That can’t be. 

He’s just an affair, right?

A beat of comfortable silence settled over the line, broken only by the soft sounds of your matched breathing. You closed your eyes, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that he was there with you. That if you rolled over, you'd find him sprawled out beside you, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, breaking you out of your reverie. 

Your heart clenched, your throat going tight.

For what felt like an eternity, you held your breath.

“You miss fucking me,” you say eventually, needing to break the intensity with a quip, a tease. "That's what this is really about. You're hard up and looking for a steamy bedtime story."

"Oh, I definitely want to fuck you," he agreed readily, his voice pitching lower, darker. "It makes me lose my mind, if I'm being honest. But love, if that was all this was, I'd be watching porn and taking matters into my own hands, so to speak. When I say I miss you... I mean you. Your mind, your heart, your ridiculous snort-laugh that makes you sound like a drunken piglet."

"Rude."

"The point is," he continued, barreling past your interruption, "I miss all of you. The sex is just a very, very nice bonus."

You were glad he couldn't see your face in that moment, because you were fairly certain you were grinning like an idiot. "Wow. I think you missed your calling. You should have been a poet, not a lawyer."

"But then I wouldn't get to argue for a living. Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, true. The courtroom would be way too quiet without you there to stir things up."

"Exactly. Plus, I look quite good in a suit."

"Wow, so humble, aren't you?"

"Just spitting facts. But you know, I bet I'd look even better with you by my side."

"Is that so?"

"Definitely. We'd be the ultimate power couple. Me, the godly lawyer, and you, the brilliant and smoking hot...wait, what was it you were studying again?"

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Nice try, Satoru. You know damn well what I'm studying."

"Mmm, it's not coming to me. Guess you'll have to refresh my memory...preferably in person."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me just the way I am."

His words echoed in your mind, 'you love me', and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Your throat went tight, your chest constricting as the weight of those words sank in.

He’s just an affair.

You had to remind yourself of it, because otherwise—

No. It could never possibly be.

For a long moment, you just listened to each other breathe, the silence comfortable and charged all at once. It felt like something was building, some inevitable tide that would sweep you both away if you let it.

"Are you alone?" Satoru asked abruptly.

You blinked, snapping back to reality as you glanced around your empty dorm room, taking in the half-cracked textbooks and rumpled bedding, the scatter of discarded clothing littering every surface. You knew your roommate was with her boyfriend tonight, likely wouldn't be home until morning, if at all.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "Just me and a truly alarming amount of dirty laundry."

"Perfect. Put me on speaker."

You paused for a second, but then anticipation rose in your blood, a thrilling shiver running down your spine at the low, suggestive tone of his voice. You did as instructed, placed the phone on your pillow and lay back on the soft bed.

"Take off your pants for me, love.”

You shivered, fingers already working at the tie of your sleep shorts. "You too. I want to hear your voice."

The rustle of fabric and the clank of a belt buckle echoed through the phone, followed by Satoru's drawn-out sigh of relief. "Fuck, that's better," he groaned, sounding almost pained. "I've been hard since the second I heard your voice, just aching to get a hand on myself. You drive me so crazy, you know that? Make me throb and leak, desperate to bury myself in you."

"God, Satoru," you whimpered, heat pulsing between your thighs. Your own pants were long gone, kicked somewhere off the bed. "Don't say things like that. I can't stand how much I need you. I'm already so wet just thinking about you."

"Fuck, such a needy little thing," he groaned. "Put your fingers in that pretty mouth for me. Get them nice and wet for me, love. Pretend it's my cock you're sucking on, my cum you're tasting on your tongue."

You hastened to obey, sliding two fingers past your parted lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, picturing Satoru's thick length sliding over your tongue, heavy and hard and leaking at the tip.

"God, you’re such a good girl," Satoru breathed, the slick sound of flesh on flesh suggesting his hand had found its destination. "Now trail those wet fingers down your throat, over your chest. Pluck and roll your nipples for me, let me hear those moans."

You did as told, your back arching off the bed as you circled and tugged at the aching peaks. Satoru's labored breathing and low curses spilled from the speaker, causing your core to clench.

"Satoru," you mewled, pinching harder, hips starting to circle restlessly against the empty air. 

"Slide that hand lower, love. Drag your fingertips through your slick folds, feel how wet you are for me. Circle your clit, get it nice and hot and ready for my tongue."

A broken moan tumbled from your lips as you touched yourself as directed, your hips bucking up to chase more of the pressure. Your clit throbbed under the pads of your fingers, aching and needy.

"Wish it was my mouth on you," Satoru panted, the slick, rhythmic glide of his hand over his cock filling the air. "Wish I could bury my face between your thighs and lick up every drop of you. Fuck, the way you taste, the sounds you make—”

"Satoru, please," you whined, two fingers dipping lower to circle your entrance, thighs fallen open. "I want to feel you inside me, want you to fuck me so bad."

"Do it," he commanded breathlessly. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, nice and deep. Picture me there, hovering over you, my cock sinking into you inch by inch. Feel me stretching you wide, filling you up, making you mine."

You obeyed, plunging your fingers knuckle-deep, your free hand flying to your mouth to muffle your cry. You started up a desperate rhythm, hips rolling into every thrust, the wet sounds of your own penetration mixing with Satoru's heavy breathing and latching groans.

"Good girl. Ride those fingers like you'd ride my dick. Fast and hard and greedy, taking every inch. Fuck, if you could see what you're doing to me right now.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, cracking and catching like he was barely hanging on to his control. “I'm so hard it hurts, leaking all over my fist. I'm fucking close already.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking into your hand as his words made your core clench harder. "Tell me, Satoru. Tell me what you're doing, how you're stroking yourself. I want to hear it, want to picture it so clearly it's like I'm there with you."

Satoru groaned. "I've got my cock in a tight grip, love. Squeezing the base hard to stave off my orgasm, because I'll be damned if I come before you do. Want to time it just right, want to hear you fall apart and know it's my voice that pushed you over the edge."

You moaned brokenly, thighs starting to tremble as your climax approached. "Close," you managed to gasp out, your free hand fisting in your sweat-dampened sheets. "Satoru, fuck, I'm so fucking close—"

"Come with me, love," he encouraged, voice breaking on a moan. "Rub your clit just how I know you like, just how I would with my tongue. Fuck, I can practically taste you, can feel you clenching around my fingers, my cock—"

And then his low, throaty groan cut through the air, and the sound — so intimate, so hot, so fucking reminiscent of all the times he'd spilled inside you — shoved you violently over the edge.

With a wordless cry, you shattered, your core rippling and gushing around your buried fingers. Distantly, you heard Satoru praising you through his own desperate grunts and moans, heard the rhythmic slap of his hand as it pumped his twitching cock through the aftershocks.

For long, panting moments, you just trembled and gasped in the aftermath, boneless and buzzing, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your skin felt too tight, your body alive and electric in a way only Satoru could cause — even from miles away.

"Fuck, what you do to me, woman," Satoru said after a moment, his words hitching a bit like he'd just stretched out real good. "You should see the mess I made over here. I'm covered in my own cum, it's all over my stomach and chest. Fuck, I haven't come that hard from just my hand in years."

"I wish I could see that.” You slipped your fingers out of your core and reached for a tissue before collapsing back onto the bed. “Wish I could watch you come, see every drop spill onto your skin. God, I'd lick it all up, every fucking drop, nice and slow."

"Fuck," Satoru choked out, and you could practically hear him trembling through the phone. "You're killing me here, you know that? I'm too old to get it up again this fast, but fuck if you aren't making me want to try."

You laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave. For now."

"You, behave?" Satoru scoffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me in line then, won't you?"

"Careful what you wish for. Next time I get my hands on you, I might not let you go for days."

"Hm. I’m scared,” you teased.

"Oh, love. You have no idea what you're in for. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so long that we're gonna break that tiny dorm bed of yours, just you wait."

"Promises, promises, counselor,” you said even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. God, you couldn't wait to have him in your bed, in your body, surrounding you with his heat and scent.

Suddenly, your phone chimed with a message notification. You pulled it away from your ear to check the screen and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

It was a picture from Satoru — or rather his lap.

His sculpted abs and muscular thighs framed the shot and in the center a very familiar thick, generously proportioned cock, red and swollen and covered in milky cum, a pearly bead of liquid welling from the slit. 

Damn. 

He really had made a mess. 

"Fuck, Satoru. Warn a girl before you go sending porn of yourself, would you?”

"What, you don't like your presents? And here I put so much effort into the lighting and angles."

You huffed out a laugh, your cheeks flushing hot as you continued to stare at the picture. "Oh, I didn't say that. Trust me, this is going in the top tier spank bank folder. Might even make it my new background, so I can stare at your dick all day during boring lectures."

"Don't you dare. My cock is for your eyes only, got it? No sharing with the class."

"Aww, you're no fun.”

"Oh, I'll show you fun.”

“You know—” You rolled onto your side and hugged a pillow to your chest. "You should come visit me sometime."

There was a beat of surprised silence, then a sharp inhale. "You want me to come to your college?"

You shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I mean... yeah. Why not?”

"But what about Suguru? I thought he made it pretty clear he didn't want me within a hundred miles of you.”

"My dad's not here though, is he? He can't exactly stalk our every move when I'm hours away at school. And besides, I'm a grown woman. He doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't see."

"You're really trying to give your old man a heart attack, huh?"

"To be fair, I think we both are," you said with a chuckle. "So, is that a promise? You'll come see me?"

"Sure. I'll drive up this weekend. We can grab dinner, take a walk around campus, whatever you want."

"And then barricade ourselves in my dorm room and not come up for air until Sunday night, right?"

A low, strangled groan echoed over the line. "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. Wanna make you scream so loud, the whole damn dorm knows exactly how well you're being taken care of.”

Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling. "Looks like we both have our work cut out for us then. Good thing we've got all weekend to cross some things off the to-do list, because I've already got a few ideas."

"Oh, really? What ideas?”

"Mm, that would be telling.”

"You goddamn tease," he laughed, the sound warm and rich and god, you'd never tire of hearing it.

A beat of comfortable silence fell between you, filled only with the soft sounds of your matched breathing over the line. It was intimate in its own way, just existing together in this quiet moment.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, “really miss you.”

You inhaled shakily, your heart racing in your chest. "I miss you too.”

Another pause, heavy with unspoken emotion.

"Sleep well, love," Satoru murmured finally, a soft smile in his voice. "Dream of me."

"Yeah, you too, counselor," you whispered back. "See you soon."

And then he was gone, the line clicking off, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and the swirling mess of your thoughts.

You rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions churning in your gut. This thing with Satoru—it was supposed to be casual. Fun. Just a hot little affair between two consenting adults, no strings or expectations.

Just really good sex.

Mind-blowingly good sex, sure, but still just sex. 

But the way he'd sounded just now, so soft and earnest, the way your pulse raced and your skin tingled at just the thought of seeing him, being near him—

God, what was this feeling? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tiny, traitorous voice whispering that it was so much more than that.

It couldn't be. 

You couldn't let it be.

Because you were married to tennis. And Satoru, with his high-powered career, was always jetting off to handle cases abroad.

This, whatever this was between you, it had an expiration date. 

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The sun beat down on the back of your neck as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, racket at the ready. Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a few sticky strands clinging to your sweaty face.

You'd been out on the court for over an hour, serving balls and perfecting your moves. It was tough as hell, but damn did it feel good to push yourself, to feel the satisfying burn in your muscles.

Tennis was your escape, your passion. 

When you were on the court, nothing else mattered. Not school, not picking a major, not deciding if you should chase your pro athlete dreams.

Out here, it was just you, your racket, and the ball. 

Pure and simple.

You were so focused on your practice, so absorbed in the steady back and forth of the ball, that you completely missed the fact that you had an audience. At least, until a very familiar voice called out, cutting through the regular court sounds.

"Hey there, superstar."

You turned around, to see Satoru walking towards you, a rakish grin on his unfairly handsome face. He was dressed casually in dark slacks and a light sage button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.

"Satoru?" you gasped, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow."

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets as he got closer. "Couldn't wait that long. Kept picturing you out here, all alone, in that little skirt..." His eyes raked over you, hot and heavy, lingering on your bare legs. "Let's just say it was a bit too much for my poor imagination to handle."

You flushed, a thrill chasing down your spine at the blatant appreciation in his gaze. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of your skimpy tennis dress, of the way the thin, sweat-soaked fabric clung to your curves.

"So what, you just decided to drive all night and ambush me on the court in broad daylight?" You crossed your arms, trying to look stern even though you were fighting back a smile.

"Ambush? I prefer 'surprise’, or maybe 'make your whole day’, given the way you're looking at me right now."

You scoffed, but couldn't stop the grin that broke free. "Awful sure of yourself, aren't you counselor?"

"With good reason." He reached out and cupped your face in one big, warm hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek so tenderly it made your breath hitch. "After all, I have it on very good authority that you've been pining for me. Yearning, even."

"Oh, is that so?" You leaned into his touch, your skin sparking at even this simple contact. 

God, you'd missed him. 

Missed this easy back and forth, the simmering tension that always stretched between you.

"Mhm." He dipped his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning hot over your parted lips. "A little birdie might have mentioned something about you sighing wistfully and doodling my name in hearts all over your notes. Very high school of you, by the way."

You huffed, giving his chest a playful shove even as you felt your face heat up. "In your dreams."

"Mm, always." His other hand found your hip, fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to stroke over the smooth, sweaty skin there. "But looks like reality's even better this time around."

Your breath hitched, need spiking through you sudden and sharp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, wanting to feel more of his heat. "Satoru," you warned, but it came out breathy, wanting. "We're in public. Anyone could see..."

"Fuck it, let them," he said, his grip tightening on your hip, his eyes going dark and intense in a way that made your knees weak. "Let the whole damn world know who you belong to. How fucking gone I am for you."

You nearly moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, torn between dragging him closer and pushing him away. "But I can't suck you off in public now, can I?" 

"Fuckin' tease. You're going to pay for that.”

"Mm, can't wait. But for now, I've still got practice to finish up."

"Look at you, being all responsible." His lips trailed down your neck, making you shiver. 

"I mean, if I'm gonna go pro, I can't slack off, right?"

He pulled back a little to look you in the eye, his smile going soft. "You're really serious about that, huh? Going pro?"

You shrugged, feeling suddenly shy under the warmth of his gaze. "Yeah, I mean...it's not like, a totally crazy dream, right?"

"Not even a little bit, love. You can do anything you set your mind to. And I'll be right there in the front row, cheering you on every step of the way."

God, the sincerity in his voice, the absolute faith shining in his eyes. It made your throat go tight and your heart feel like it was ten sizes too big for your chest.

"Satoru, you..."

"—are incredible? I know," he cut in with a cheeky grin.

You just smiled, a soft, tender thing that felt too big for your face. 

Yeah, he really was incredible. 

He smiled in return, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, what do you say, we see if I remember how to swing a racket, hm? I'll even let you beat me, since you've been practicing so hard and all."

"Oh, you'll let me beat you? That's adorable. Try to keep up, old man. I remember you playing real bad.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Pretty bad, yeah.” You grinned, giving his chest a little shove with your racket. "Bring it, counselor. First to five wins and the loser owes the winner any favor of their choosing."

Satoru's smile was slow, wicked. "Any favor, huh? Dangerous words, love. You sure you wanna give me that kind of power? I might make you regret it later."

"Or maybe I'll make you eat those words," you teased, already backing towards your side of the court, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. "Guess we'll just have to see how it plays out."

"Brat.” He shook his head, huffing out a laugh as he moved into position. "Alright, challenge accepted. Just remember—" His grin turned downright feral. "When I win? And I will win, I'm gonna collect on that favor so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

A shiver chased down your spine, your core clenching at the blatant heat in his gaze. But you just smiled, slow and sure, adrenaline already thrumming through your veins.

This. 

Him. 

The push and pull, the electric charge that always crackled between you — god, it was everything. Invigorating and addictive and so, so right.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, counselor.” You bounced lightly on your toes as you readied your first serve. With a wide smile, you tossed the ball skyward. And then the sharp thwack of the ball as it met your strings, the satisfying smack as it hit the court on his side.

Game fucking on.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You did win, of course.

And Satoru wasted no time in making good on his forfeit.

"Fuck, don’t stop," you panted, your hips rolling shamelessly against his face, "feels so fucking good."

Satoru’s hands were firmly on your hips as you rode his face. Your core gliding over his lips and tongue, painting his face with your arousal. The obscene wet sounds of him licking and suckling filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and sighs.

Satoru licked and sucked and nibbled at your clit, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and delicate flicks over your throbbing nub. He explored every inch, delving into your tight core and fucking you with the slick muscle until you were keening and thrashing above him.

Your hands moved from the headboard to his hair, tangling in the soft white strands, holding him in place as you started to move faster, grinding your clit against his nose, his chin, his lips.

"Satoru," you chanted mindlessly. "God, yes, just like that. Don't stop, don't fucking stop, I can’t—ah."

He groaned long and low, the sound muffled against your core, and doubled his efforts. His tongue delved deep, curling inside you in a maddening motion that made your vision blur at the edges. His nose rubbed your clit with every rock and grind of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Without warning, he pressed two thick fingers into your clenching heat, curling forward to rub over that spot just how you liked it. At the same time, Satoru sealed his lips around your clit and sucked.

It was too much, too intense. 

Your orgasm that had been building at the base of your spine, in the quivering pit of your stomach, exploded outwards. You bucked and writhed on his face, practically screaming as pure bliss crashed through you, pulsing out from your core in searing waves. Your core spasmed around his fingers, gushing release over his chin and his nose.

Through it all, Satoru worked you mercilessly, his mouth and hand never faltering, wringing out every last shudder until you collapsed forward, clinging weakly to the headboard. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, shiny and sticky with your spend, the occasional residual clench making you whimper.

"Holy shit," you managed, still panting. "I'm so fucking glad you suck at tennis."

"Ouch," he said with a laugh. "I'd say I scored at least one point there."

"Yeah, because I let you.”

"Double ouch.”

Slowly, carefully, he eased you off his face and back onto the bed, shifting to hover over you on his elbows. His cheeks and chin were drenched, glistening with your release. 

You reached out to swipe a thumb over his slick skin, wiping away some of the mess you'd made. "You've got a little something there.”

"Oh, do I?" He turned his head to nip playfully at your finger, his tongue darting out to lick your arousal from the digit. "Hmm, wonder what that could be. Certainly not the evidence of you coming apart on my tongue. Multiple times, even. But who's counting?"

"Smug doesn't suit you, Satoru.”

He chuckled, low and warm, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. You watched as he stood and stretched, the lean muscles of his back rippling under perfect skin. He was completely unselfconscious in his nudity, utterly at ease with your heated gaze tracing over every inch of him.

Satoru padded across your dorm room, his footsteps silent on the thin carpet. He came to a stop in front of your bookshelf, his head tilting as he examined the various trophies and medals displayed there.

"Impressive collection you've got here.” He reached out to pick up a particularly shiny trophy, turning it over in his hands. "This from the championship last year?"

You sat up, hugging the sheet to your chest. “Yeah, that was a hell of a match. Went to three sets, thought my lungs were going to give out on me by the end of it."

He hummed, setting the trophy back in its place with care. "I remember. I was stuck in a conference room, listening to some blowhard drone on about market fluctuations, but all I could think about was you. Must've refreshed the score update page a hundred times, nearly wore out my phone battery."

Your heart stumbled in your chest, your breath catching. "You...you kept up with my matches? Even when you were abroad?"

Satoru glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm and bright in the golden afternoon light filtering through your blinds. “Of course I did. I've always admired your determination and drive, ever since you started college and made it clear tennis was your dream. You think I could focus on anything else when I knew you were out there absolutely crushing it on the court?"

Your heart raced. The idea of him, thousands of miles away, still cheering you on, still invested in your passion, your success—

It meant more than you could ever put into words.

"You know, it was strange for me, seeing you again after so long," Satoru admitted, trailing his fingers absently over a polaroid photo that lay beside your trophies — you, sweaty and beaming, holding a massive trophy aloft. "You'd grown into this incredible, self-assured athlete.” He turned to look at you. “Who would have thought we'd end up like this one day?"

"Not me, that's for sure. But just to be clear, I was always an incredible, self-assured athlete. You've just gotten old, Satoru. I mean, is your hair even more white than before or is it just me?"

"And here I thought I was being sweet."

You smiled slowly. "You are. Kinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda? Just kinda? Damn, tough crowd."

You grinned, stretching languorously against the pillows. "Can't let that ego get too big, or your head won't fit through the door."

"Oh, I think we both know it's not my head you need to worry about fitting, love.”

"You're ridiculous. Why do I put up with you again?"

Satoru walked back over to the bed, leaning down until he was hovering over you, his face mere inches from yours. "Don't even try to pretend you don't love it.”

"In your dreams.”

He cupped your face in his large, calloused hand, his thumb stroking tenderly over your cheekbone before he dipped his head to press a soft kiss to your mouth and you immediately melted into him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body arching up to meet his, before you tugged him down onto the mattress.

The kiss deepened, growing wetter, hotter, more urgent. Satoru's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you parted for him, it was with a low, needy moan that made his lips move even greedier against yours.

His hand slid from your face to tangle in your hair, his fingers twisting in the strands as he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss. His body pressed closer, heavier, his knees pushing your thighs apart as he settled between your legs.

"Not so fast," you breathed against his lips, your hands splayed across his firm chest. With a deft twist of your hips, you rolled him beneath you in one swift motion, straddling his waist.

Satoru blinked up at you, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his large hands coming to rest on your bare thighs, his thumbs stroking circles over your skin. 

"Oh, so you wanna take control now, huh? Be the boss?"

"Please, you know you love it when I'm on top." Your hips began a slow, teasing grind against the rigid length of him nestled between your thighs. 

Satoru's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your thighs as you circled your hips just right, the slick drag of your wet core sliding over his aching cock. "You flatter me, love, because I lose my mind in any position with you. But you know, two can play this game."

His hands suddenly shot to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight. With a sharp jerk and a low, purposeful grind, he rocked you against him hard, the pressure on your clit just shy of painful in the most delicious way.

You gasped, your back arching, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked chest. "Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered, your hips moving of their own accord, chasing the delicious friction. "Don't stop." 

"What happened to being in control, hm?"

"Oh, shut up”

Every drag of your slick folds over his thick length made you shiver and gasp, lit you up from the inside. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved with each teasing glide of your hips. 

He looked so needy beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs painfully tight, his hips moving against yours, seeking more of your friction.

"So, when do you want to end this torture?" he asked.

"What, can't you take a little teasing?"

"Oh, I can, but right now, I'm losing my mind here. If you don't let me fuck you already—"

"Then do it," you say breathlessly, your own need reaching a fever pitch.

He didn’t need to hear more.

One broad palm abandoned your hip to notch underneath your thigh, spreading you wider as the other hand delved between your rocking bodies to grasp his shaft, lining the thick head up with your entrance.

With a moan, you sank down onto him, your body accepting the slow invasion inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out, when the coarse brush of his pelvis met your clit, you both groaned low and long, lost to the connection, the perfect completeness of your bodies finally joined.

"God, you feel so incredible," Satoru gritted out, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought the urge to simply buck up into you, to set a bruising pace and chase his pleasure selfishly. "So damn tight and hot and perfect. Never gonna get over how good you take my cock."

"Fuck, Satoru," you panted. "You're so deep like this—"

Your babbling dissolved into a whimpering keen as he moved his hips, grinding the thick root of him against your G-spot. You braced your hands on his sweat-slick chest and started to move, rising up until just the tip of him kissed your entrance before slamming back down, a scream catching in your throat at the maddening stretch of him.

"Just like that," Satoru urged breathlessly, his neck corded with strain, his teeth sunk into his lower lip as he watched you bounce on his cock through a haze of desperate lust. "Ride me, love. Take this dick, milk me fucking dry. Wanna feel you come on me, soak my cock in it, fucking ruin me."

Your movements grew faster, more desperate, your cries becoming higher pitched and broken as you chased your rapidly approaching climax. 

Suddenly, Satoru sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. The shift in angle made you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance as he sank even deeper inside you.

"Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered. “Feel so good—"

"Shhh, I've got you." One large hand splayed across your lower back, the other tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'll always have you, love. No matter what."

Then his hips started moving in a slow, rolling rhythm again, each thrust sending heat straight to your core, making you temporarily forget his sincere words. You clung to him, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the narrow space between your lips.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" Satoru murmured softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. 

But before you could fully process it, his hands slid down to grab your ass, grinding you harder against him. A gasp escaped your throat at the sudden increase in pace as you rolled your hips faster to meet his thrusts, your clit rubbing maddingly against him with every downward motion.

In one smooth move, Satoru rolled you both onto your sides, your back flush against his solid chest, still intimately joined. The new position made you moan out, the angle allowing him to sink even further into you.

"Please tell me we'll never stop doing this," he moaned, his lips on your ear.

“No, never, Satoru. God, please never stop.”

One muscular arm banded across your waist, holding you firmly against him as he started to move. His free hand reached up your sweat-slicked body to tighten around your throat, arching your head back to rest against his shoulder.

"Satoru," you panted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. "God, please never stop fucking me.”

"Never, love," he murmured against your skin, his hand drifting lower, fingertips ghosting over your quivering stomach. "I’m never gonna stop fucking you, wanna feel you come apart on my cock again and again until you can't take it anymore."

He rolled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your core clench. At the same time, his clever fingers found your aching center. A broken moan tore from your throat, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You were close, so fucking close.

But Satoru, god, he knew your body so well, knew exactly how to keep you riding that sweet, torturous edge without letting you fall. Every time you thought you couldn't possibly handle any more, he would change his angle or vary his rhythm, keeping you suspended in an endless loop of blissful torture that had you shaking and gasping his name.

“God, you take me so fucking good.” His teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder as the thick head of his cock slammed into you at that perfect angle. "You feel so amazing, so perfect around me, fuck, gonna fill you up so fuckin' full—"

His words were your undoing. 

With a sharp cry, your release crashed over you, your body clenching and pulsing around him as wave after wave consumed you. Your inner muscles clamped down on him, rippling and fluttering and milking his cock for all you were worth.

Satoru fucked you through it relentlessly, prolonging your pleasure until it bordered on pain, all while he chased his own release.

Without warning, Satoru flipped you over onto your stomach, his body covering yours as he pushed back inside you with a deep, almost desperate thrust. One of his hands snaked around to grip your throat lightly, his chest molding to your back as he set a punishing pace, driving into you with abandon.

"Oh fuck, love, I'm gonna—shit, you feel so fucking good—" His words dissolved into incoherent moans, his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm as his climax approached.

He pounded into you harder, faster, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. And then, with a guttural groan, he let go, his release flooding you, painting your walls with his seed.

You could feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, your own clenching core greedily milking him for every last drop.

For long, blissful moments, you simply shook and shuddered together, his cock still buried to the hilt, hearts pounding in sync. Satoru's arms tightened around you, his face buried between your shoulder blades, his ragged breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin.

"I swear it gets better every goddamn time,” he mused against your lips. “Never gonna get enough of you, never gonna stop craving the way you feel around me.”

You huffed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Yeah, you've really ruined me for all other dicks, just so you know." You turned your head to catch his eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face. He straightened up, his hands wandering over the curve of your ass before delivering a light, playful spank.

“Hey!" you yelped.

Grinning unrepentantly, he leaned down and playfully bit one of your buttocks. "God, I can't wait to see this ass in your little tennis skirts again," he growled, soothing the sting with a kiss.

"What, that gets you all hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm hard the second you shimmy into one of those tiny things."

"Well, good thing you'll be seeing me in them a lot more often then.”

"I’m counting on it. Can’t wait to see you in those skirts winning matches all over the world.”

You bit your lip, a sudden wave of uncertainty crashing over you. "Dad wants me to have a backup plan, you know? In case the whole tennis thing doesn't pan out."

"And since when do you give a fuck what he thinks?" Satoru challenged, his fingers trailing up your spine, making you shiver.

"Fair point," you conceded, your lips twitching. But the smile faded quickly, replaced by a frown. "I mean, It's a nice dream, but...what are the odds, really? It's not exactly a realistic goal."

Slowly, gently, he slipped out of you, both of you moaning at the loss of contact. He pulled you close, tucking you into the curve of his body like you belonged there.

"Says who?" he demanded, his voice fierce, almost angry. "You're incredible. You have just as much chance as anyone else, if not more so. You shouldn't give up on your dreams just because the path isn't easy."

Your heart clenched, your throat suddenly tight. "You really think I could do it?" you whispered, hating how small, how uncertain you sounded.

"I know you could." He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "You're so strong, love. On the court and off. When you set your mind to something, nothing can stand in your way. It's one of the things I lo—" He caught himself, clearing his throat roughly. "One of the things I admire most about you."

Your heart stuttered at his little slip, at the unspoken four-letter-word lingering in the air between you. But you pushed it aside, convinced you must have misheard him. There was no way he was about to say what you thought he was—right?

No, it couldn't be. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a bit of fun, a way to blow off steam. You needed to remember that, needed to cling to that truth like a lifeline.

You swallowed hard.

"I mean it, love," Satoru continued softly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You should look at schools with top tennis programs. Places with the right coaches, the right resources to help you improve your skills and get noticed by the pros.”

"Yeah, I should," you said slowly.

"Wherever you want to go, I'm with you. But please, just choose a university with a remotely decent law firm nearby. Otherwise, I'm gonna be bored as fuck.”

Your heart stopped. 

You pushed back from him slightly, needing space, needing air. "What? Why?" you croaked, certain you'd misheard, misunderstood. Because surely he couldn't mean—

God, he couldn't—he didn't really—

Did he?

Conflicting emotions crashed through you, painful in their intensity. Disbelief and wonder, longing and panic, hope and fear, and a strange, bubbling rush that felt dangerously close to—

No. 

No, it was too soon, too much. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a casual affair, a temporary outlet for the attraction that crackled between you.

Wasn't it?

"I thought this was casual between us," you said.

As his words hung in the air between you, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passed over Satoru’s features before he could mask it with casual nonchalance. For a moment, he looked almost — wounded. 

As if your dismissal of this thing between you had struck a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs and the hope from his heart.

But you couldn't let yourself dwell on it, couldn't let the ache in your chest sway you from your chosen path. Because this—tennis, your future, your dreams—it was everything. The driving force that had gotten you through countless early mornings and grueling practices, through blisters and bruises and the bone-deep exhaustion that came with pushing your body to its limits day after day.

It was your passion, your purpose. 

The one thing in your life that made sense, that gave you direction and drive.

You had to choose.

And as much as it killed you, as much as it felt like ripping your own heart out with your bare hands—

You knew which choice you had to make. Which path you had to take, no matter how steep and lonely it might be. Because tennis was your future. Your purpose, your calling, the one thing you'd built your entire identity around.

And Satoru — god, Satoru was a beautiful dream.

But he was only a dream.

And you can’t chase two dreams.

God, this was so fucking unfair. So cruel and confusing and utterly, devastatingly unfair.

Because you wanted him. Wanted him so badly it felt like a physical ache, a hollow void in the center of your chest that only his touch, his kiss, his love could fill.

But you wanted tennis too.

Wanted tennis more.

And you couldn't risk it.

Because falling for him, letting yourself want more than stolen moments and secret meetings — it was a distraction. A beautiful, tempting, utterly destructive distraction.

"I need to focus on my training, you know? I can't afford any...complications right now,” you said quietly.

Satoru's eyes closed for a second, his jaw clenching as if he were physically biting back the words that wanted to spill out. When he opened them again, his gaze was shuttered, unreadable.

"Yeah, you're right. You should focus on your career, on getting everything you want out of life.” Satoru cleared his throat, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your sweat-cooled skin. "Well then, Now that we've got that settled...what do you say we move on to more pressing matters?"

"Pressing...matters?"

Satoru's smile sharpened. "Mhm. Like round three...or is it four now? I've lost count."

Your breath caught in your throat as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick, heavy weight of his length pressing against your entrance. 

"Satoru," you managed, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "I think we—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his gaze so intense that any reply died on your lips. "Don't speak. Just feel."

And then he was pushing forward, the broad head of his cock breaching your entrance, splitting you open inch by maddening inch until he bottomed out.

For a suspended moment, he held himself still, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with your own. And in that pause, that infinite stretch of time, something shifted between you. 

When he started to move, it was with a desperate urgency, a possessive edge that bordered on rough. His kisses turned bruising, almost punishing, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks, to brand you as his own.

It was hot and messy, frantic and almost frightening in its intensity. 

He fucked you like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin, to make you his in a way that went far beyond the physical. Like he knew, with a brutal, aching certainty, that he would never have the chance to touch you like this again. 

Never feel your heat, your softness, the perfect give of your body beneath his own.

And despite yourself, despite the sickening knowledge that this would only make things harder in the end — you wanted it. 

Wanted him, all of him, in a way that defied logic and reason. 

Even if it was selfish, even if it would hurt him more in the long run, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Couldn't deny yourself this one last taste of paradise, this fleeting glimpse of a future you knew you could never have.

So you clung to him, your hands scrabbling over the sweat-slick expanse of his back, your legs winding around his waist to pull him deeper, harder. 

You let him take you apart with ruthless precision, let him wring cry after broken cry from your lips as he pounded into you again and again, chasing oblivion, chasing connection, chasing the impossible dream of forever.

Even if it was just for one night.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body aching and spent. He gathered you close and held you like he never wanted to let go. Like he could keep you there, in the circle of his arms, in the warmth of his bed, if he just held on tight enough.

He stayed the night, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you drifted off to sleep. 

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone. 

The sheets were cold beside you, the indentation of his head on the pillow the only sign he'd ever been there at all. 

A note on the nightstand said something had come up at work.

He was a terrible liar.

And could you blame him, really? After all, you'd been the one to set the terms, to draw the lines. You'd been the one to put your career, your ambition, your lifelong dream ahead of your heart. Ahead of him.

So what right did you have to feel betrayed, to feel abandoned, when he was just following your lead?

No right at all. 

But that didn't stop the ache in your chest.

But it was too late now.

You'd made your choice. 

And it wasn't him.

No matter how badly you wished it could be.

Game. Set.

Goodbye.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

In the weeks that followed, life returned to its usual rhythms. 

Classes, practice, the endless cycle of drills and conditioning that made up your days. You threw yourself into your training with a single-minded focus, determined to chase your dreams, to reach the pinnacle of your sport.

But even as you went through the motions, even as you pushed your body to its limits and lost yourself in the familiar burn of exertion — something felt off. 

Different, in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was like a constant itch beneath your skin, a restless energy that had you tossing and turning at night, your mind churning with thoughts you couldn't seem to quiet. Thoughts of him, of the way he'd touched you, tasted you, the way he'd looked at you.

You couldn't seem to shake the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The way he'd held you, like you were something precious, something cherished.

Like you were his everything.

And god, how you ached for it. How you longed for his touch, his presence. For the easy banter and the heated glances, the way he could make you laugh even as he set your blood on fire.

For the way he made you feel seen, known. Understood, in a way no one else ever had. Like he could look into your eyes and see straight to your soul, to the heart of you. Like he knew you, inside and out.

But he was busy, consumed by his work. 

At least, that's what he told you.

Not that you had a right to complain.

You’d made your choice, and now you had to live with it. Tennis was your dream, your passion, and you couldn't let anything or anyone distract you from that. 

Not even him. 

You buried yourself in your training, in the familiar rhythms of the court. In the thwack of the ball against your racket, the burn of your muscles as you pushed yourself harder, faster. 

As you chased the high of victory, the rush of dominance. The sweet satisfaction of a point well-played, a match well-won.

But even as you poured your heart out on the court, even as you fought for every point, every game, every set — you couldn't escape your own head. The doubts, the second-guesses, the nagging sense that maybe, just maybe, you had made a terrible mistake. 

That in choosing your dream, you had lost something far more precious. And slowly, inevitably, you began to realize.

But god, there were so many reasons why you shouldn't.

He was so much older than you. 

He was your father's best friend.

And then there was your career, your dream. 

The goal you'd been chasing since you first picked up a racket, the future you'd sacrificed so much for. Could you really risk it all, put it all on the line for a man you'd only just begun to really know, to love?

Your head said no. 

Said it was too reckless.

That you had worked too hard, come too far, to throw it all away now. 

But your heart—

Oh your treacherous heart, whispered a different story. Whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Worth the sacrifice.

And so, torn between your head and your heart, you found yourself at a crossroads. Caught between the dream you had always chased and the love you had never expected to find. 

So with a deep breath and a racing heart, you made your decision.

Heart over head.

For the very first time in your life.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You stood outside Satoru's office, heart pounding in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The seconds seemed to drag on forever before you finally heard his voice, muffled but unmistakable, calling out, "Yeah, come on in."

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Satoru glanced up from his desk, his eyes widening. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

You held up a small, prettily wrapped box. "I brought you macarons.”

"Oh, uh...thanks, that's really sweet. But I've got a meeting coming up soon, and I'm not sure now's the best time, you know?"

You walked further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind you with a soft click. "Yeah, I know. I checked with your secretary about your schedule."

"You did?” 

“Yeah.” You walked towards him, setting the box of macarons down on his desk. "I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes searching your face, like he was trying to read between the lines. "You know your dad's got an office here too, right? If he sees us together, he's gonna be—"

"I know," you interrupted. "That's why I asked for his schedule too. Looks like we’ve got at least 30 minutes to ourselves, give or take."

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket, as you stared at each other across the expanse of his desk. Your heart was a wild thing in your chest, your palms clammy with nerves and anticipation.

"I'm going to Stanford," you blurted out.

Satoru blinked. "I thought you were set on Princeton."

"But Stanford's got better law firms.”

His brow furrowed, confusion written all over his unfairly handsome face. "But what's that got to do with—"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, your resolve. And then you stepped around the desk, coming to stand before him, so close you could feel the heat of his body, the whisper of his breath against your skin.

"Move there with me," you said.

His brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I want you. Want this, want us. Together, for real. Not just for sex, but...but a real relationship.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock. For a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Like he thought maybe he was dreaming, or hallucinating, or—

"Are you serious? You really want that? Want...us?"

“Yes.”

"Are you sure?" he asked again, as if he's genuinely not able to believe it, hesitant even as his hands came up to settle on your hips, to tug you closer. "Because if we do this, if we go down this road...there's no going back.”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring him to you. "I'm sure. I'm all in, Satoru.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips. And then he was surging up, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that seared your very soul, that branded you as his own. 

You melted into him, into the heat and strength of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands on your waist. Into the slick slide of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip. Into the sheer, overwhelming rightness of being in his arms, of being wholly and completely his. 

Body, heart, and soul.

And as you lost yourself in him, in the taste and feel and perfect inevitability of loving him — you knew.

Knew that this was where you belonged, where you were always meant to be. 

In his arms, in his heart.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your arms winding around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Tugging him closer, ever closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. Until you were pressed against him from chest to hip.

He walked you backwards, never breaking the kiss, until you felt the edge of his desk digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of his desk.

Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. 

You gasped into his mouth, your legs parting instinctively to make room for him between them. He stepped into the cradle of your hips like he belonged there, like he'd finally found his way home.

Like you were his missing piece, his perfect fit. 

Frantic hands tugged at clothing, desperate for the feel of skin on skin. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, baring the smooth expanse of his chest to your touch.

Satoru's own hands were just as busy, slipping beneath the hem of your top and skimming up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You lifted your arms, allowing him to strip the fabric over your head and toss it aside.

"God, you're beautiful," he rasped, one hand coming up to trace the curve of your cheek, to tangle in your hair. "So fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes."

Your heart stuttered, emotion welling up thick and fast in your throat. "Satoru," you whispered, your own hands sliding up his arms, over the strong, solid breadth of his shoulders. "You know we don’t have much time, remember?."

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He claimed your mouth again, his kiss hot and deep and filled with barely restrained need. Hasty hands fumbled with the fastenings of pants, shoving fabric down and out of the way with an almost frantic urgency. 

And then he was stepping between your spread thighs, the hot, heavy weight of his erection pressing against your core, parting you, teasing you. You wrapped your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back to urge him closer. 

“You know, family dinners are going to be really awkward from now on."

"God, Satoru, don't say that now—" you began, but your words cut off on a sharp gasp as he surged forward, his hard length sliding home in one smooth, powerful thrust.

As Satoru thrust into you, each deep stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you, it struck you just how right this felt. Despite the age difference, despite how unconventional your relationship was, being with him like this — it was like coming home. 

Like your bodies were made to fit together, two halves of a whole.

It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though god knows there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like you were the most precious thing in his world. The way he made you feel cherished, adored, safe and wanted and so incredibly loved.

He was your home, your heart, your everything.

"Satoru," you suddenly gasped out. "I love you."

His rhythm faltered, his eyes flying to yours. For a second you panicked, thinking you'd scared him off, ruined the moment. But then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, his gaze so full of tenderness it took your breath away.

"I love you too," he rasped. "God, you have no idea how much. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He leaned down to kiss you, messy and desperate, pouring all his love and longing into the press of his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, and soon you were both moving again, chasing that peak together.

It wasn't going to be easy, you knew that. 

There would be plenty of people who wouldn't understand, who would judge and condemn. But wrapped up in his arms, lost in the bliss of his body moving with yours, none of that seemed to matter.

This was right. 

This was real. 

This love you shared, it was the kind that could weather any storm, overcome any obstacle. As long as you had each other, you could face anything.

It wouldn't be a conventional life, by any means. But it would be yours. Yours and his, together. And really, that's all that mattered.

Because in the end, love was worth fighting for. And this love? This crazy, complicated, wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime love?

It was everything.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

"You nervous?" 

Satoru's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, his sky blue eyes framed by snowy lashes capturing your attention. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in his gaze, but then you inhaled deeply, centering yourself. 

Nervous?

You considered the question, searching within for the telltale flutter of butterflies, the icy clench of anxiety. But there was only calm, a steely determination, and a quiet confidence in your abilities.

"No," you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. "I'm not, actually."

Your eyes wandered back to the court, where the final preparations were underway. The electric atmosphere enveloped you, the excitement of the crowd palpable in the air. This was it — the Wimbledon final, the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears. 

Turning back to Satoru, you shook your head. "I should be though, right? I mean, it's the Wimbledon final. Feel like I should be nervous."

Satoru's smile was warm and proud, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. If you're not nervous, then that's okay. Trust your instincts, trust all the work you've put in. You've got this."

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "For being here, for always believing in me. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Yes, you could have. You're the strongest, most resilient person I know. But I'm damn lucky I get to be here to watch you shine."

Your lips twitched into a faint smile.

Footsteps approached, and you turned to see your dad, a water bottle in hand and a slightly anxious furrow between his brows. "Hey, champ," he said, handing you the water. "How you holding up? Nerves kicking in yet?" 

Before you could answer, Satoru chimed in, a playful grin on his face. "She hasn't decided yet. But either way, she's got this. Our girl's a champion, through and through." 

You shot him a look, cursing him a little for his choice of words.

Your dad's gaze flickered between you, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the inevitable awkwardness, the unspoken judgment. But then he smiled, warm and genuine, and clapped Satoru on the shoulder. 

"Damn right she is," he agreed, his voice filled with pride. "And we're here to support her every step of the way."

And in that exact moment, looking into their eyes, filled with unwavering belief, you knew one thing for sure — even if you lost today, you'd already won in all the ways that truly mattered. 

And really, what could be better than that?

Then, the announcement came for the players to take their positions. 

Satoru turned to you. "Alright, love, this is it. Time to show the world what you're made of. Get out there and crush it, yeah? You've got this." 

You nodded. "Yeah, let's do this."

Satoru's answering smile was proud and just a little wicked. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Melting into him, your mouth opened under his as the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance that set your blood on fire, nearly making you moan into his mouth, forgetting, for just a moment, where you were and what you were about to do.

A pointed cough from your dad broke the spell. Satoru pulled back with a roguish grin, wholly unrepentant. 

You were breathing hard, your lips tingling and your heart racing, but there was no nervousness, no uncertainty. Only the bone-deep knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, doing exactly what you were born to do.

Satoru's hands slid down to your hips, his touch lingering, electric. "Go get them, love." 

You flashed him a final smile, then turned to make your way onto the court. Satoru's hand found your ass one last time to give you a playful, proprietary slap as you walked away. You didn't see it, but you were sure your dad gave him a death glare for that.

The sun peeked through the clouds as you strode forward, the place buzzing with energy. 

It was the finale, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel like a dream come true. People screaming your name, the realization that you were really here, in this moment, living your passion.

As you took your place on the baseline, racket in hand, stretching one last time, adrenaline singing through your veins, you risked a final glance over to the sidelines. 

Satoru was watching you, his gaze intense and full of so much love and pride it took your breath away. When he caught your eye, he winked.

Your dad rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Will I ever get used to seeing you two like this?" he asked, the question directed at his lifelong best friend, but also, perhaps, at himself.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes still trained on you. "You're getting better. I remember the first few months, you constantly looked like you were about to lose your shit and murder me in my sleep. But you're managing okay now."

"Yeah, I still can't quite believe it. My best friend and my daughter… I'm not sure I'll ever fully come to terms with it."

"I know it's unconventional. I know it's not what you would have chosen for her. But I swear to you, I love that girl with everything I have. I'd do anything for her, be anything she needs me to be. She's it for me. The one."

Your dad was silent for a long moment, his gaze tracking your progress across the court. "I know you do. And that's the only reason I haven't killed you yet." 

Satoru barked out a laugh. "Well, thank you for your restraint.”

"Seriously though," your dad continued. "She's happy. Happier than I've ever seen her. And that's all that matters to me." 

They both watched as you stepped onto the court, your head held high. You began your pre-match routine, circling your wrists to loosen up. Your eyes were already locked on your opponent across the net.

As you moved through your stretches, reaching down to touch your toes, twisting at the waist, rolling your shoulders, Satoru's gaze never wavered from your form. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched you.

"Will you accept the offer they gave you?"

"Huh?" Satoru responded distractedly, his focus still on you.

"The offer to lecture at Stanford.”

"Oh, right," Satoru said, finally tearing his gaze away from you to look at Suguru. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't really decided yet."

Your dad huffed out a laugh. "You're probably the only person in the world who would even consider turning down an honor like that."

Satoru chuckled, his attention drifting back to you as you took your position on the court. "Ah, you know I never cared about prestige. And to be honest, I'm currently enjoying being a tennis husband. There's still so many places we haven't explored together, you know?"

"You're not a husband yet, though," your dad pointed out.

"Am I not?" Satoru grinned, fumbling with the back pocket of his pants. He pulled out a small case and held it up for Suguru to see, flipping it open.

Suguru's eyes widened. "You serious?"

Satoru's smile only grew wider, his gaze drifting back to you on the court. "I'm gonna ask her after she wins."

"And what if she doesn't win?"

A laugh escaped Satoru's lips. "C'mon, we both know she's got this in the bag."

Your dad was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant and thoughtful as he watched the shiny ring in the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm damn glad she has you, Satoru. I really am. Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

Satoru blinked rapidly. "Wow. That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm touched, truly."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head," Suguru grumbled. "You know I'll still kill you if you hurt her."

"Yeah, figured," Satoru grinned, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. "But trust me, that's never gonna happen."

"Good."

Satoru watched you for a moment, then turned to Suguru once more. "By the way, should I've asked you for permission or something? You know, since you're her dad and all."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "Don't make this any weirder than it already is."

"I can start calling you dad from now on, right? Or maybe pops? What do you think?"

"Absolutely not. Don't even think about it."

"Aw, come on," Satoru pushed, his grin growing wider. "We're practically family now, right? I mean, I'm going to be your son-in-law soon."

"Satoru..." Suguru warned, his tone dangerous.

"Ooh, I know! How about father-in-law dearest? That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I swear to god, Satoru, if you don't stop right now—"

"Okay, okay, fine," Satoru relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. But just so you know, I expect you to give a heartfelt speech at the wedding. Something about how you always knew I was the one for your little girl, even when we were kids."

Suguru stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and clapped a hand on Satoru's shoulder, his grip just a little too tight for comfort.

"Satoru," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "If you don't shut up right now, there will be no wedding because you'll be six feet under."

"Jeez, no need to get violent," Satoru said, wincing under Suguru's iron grip.

"Then not another word about being my son-in-law, got it?" Suguru smirked, releasing his hold on Satoru's shoulder. "Just promise me you'll make her happy."

"Always," Satoru said, rubbing his shoulder. "I swear it."

"Great. Now, let's watch the match, shall we?" Suguru said, returning to his composed self in a split second.

"Please," Satoru agreed, still massaging his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the court, back to you, ready to cheer you on to victory.

Because you both knew that no matter what challenges the future might bring, no matter where this crazy, beautiful life might take you—

As long as you had each other, you could handle anything.

And that? That was a pretty damn beautiful thing.

Game, set, love.

Forever.

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

author's note: wooooaaa here it is, the happy ever after for these two adorable idiots !! hope you enjoyed this fun short little story as much as i enjoyed writing it. so thank you for sticking with me and leaving all those lovely comments and messages, they always bring the biggest smile to my face !!

and please ignore any inaccuracies regarding american universities. i have no clue and just widly came up with things haha.

once again, thank you for reading, and i hope our paths cross again in another story. have the most wonderful day !! <3

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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[chheolie]

do we have a series with seungcheol being the father of a little girl in elementary school?

you always manage to handle everything, even though it's very tiring. your ex-husband isn't one of those absent fathers; on the contrary, he's always available for your daughter.

but today was particularly awful! you felt exhausted, inadequate. you put your daughter to bed earlier, but of course, she wasn't sleepy. you just couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

hidden under the comforter, your eyes were swollen from crying so much. this past year since the separation hadn't been easy. seungcheol still held a huge space in your heart, and dealing with his absence was a difficult battle.

your daughter, always observant, noticed your mood swings and the sadness that occasionally showed in your eyes. this time was no different; she just accepted lying down even though she didn't want to sleep. while you tried to pull yourself together in your room, she sneaked out of hers and quickly grabbed your phone, dialing her dad's number.

seungcheol was in a meeting with the members after a day of rehearsals when his phone rang. seeing your number on the screen, an immediate concern arose in his heart.

"hello? y/n?" he asked, worried.

"appa..." she said in a small voice, making seungcheol even more concerned.

"hi, my love, what's wrong?" he tried to keep his voice calm.

"appa, i think omma is sick," her little voice sounded on the phone, full of worry. "she's been crying for a long time."

seungcheol's heart tightened at hearing this. "sick? what else did you see? did she say anything?"

"no, she's just in her room, crying. what should i do?"

seungcheol felt a lump in his throat. part of him wanted to run to you, while another part hesitated, fearing to reopen old wounds. but his concern for your well-being spoke louder.

"don't worry okay? i'm coming over."

he hung up the phone, determined to do whatever it took to make you feel better. he said goodbye without giving many explanations to the members and headed to his car.

as he turned off the car, he took a deep breath. he tried to focus his mind on helping you and forgetting the feelings he'd been repressing for the past year.

your ex-husband opened the bedroom door slowly, looking cautiously. seeing you under the comforter, he knocked gently. "y/n...? is everything okay?"

you emerged from under the comforter quickly, startled by the voice you heard. "seungcheol?" you asked, confused, sitting up and drying your tears, but your eyes were sunken and red, making his heart ache at the sight. he approached slowly, sitting beside you, hesitant but unable to stay away.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, still trying to understand.

"our daughter called me, she was worried about you. i... i needed to come." he said calmly, trying not to falter.

"oh... i'm sorry seungcheol. i'm sorry she called you and made you worry. i... i should have been more careful; i didn't want her to worry like this." you said, looking down.

"you don't need to apologize, y/n. our daughter did what she thought was right. she was worried about you, just as i am." he said firmly. "what happened, y/n? what made you cry?" he asked with a tone of sadness.

you looked at seungcheol, the tears starting to fall again. taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions.

"seungcheol, i... i'm so overwhelmed. everything is so hard without you here. i feel like i'm carrying the world on my shoulders, and sometimes, i just can't do it anymore. i miss you so much."

seungcheol swallowed hard, leaning in a little more, his eyes full of concern and guilt. "i didn't know it was this hard for you, y/n. i... never wanted you to feel like this."

you continued, the words pouring out in a torrent as if a dam had broken. "i've been trying to be strong, for me and for our daughter, but it's so lonely. i look at the place where you used to be, and it's like a part of me is missing. i don't know how to move on without you."

seungcheol held your hand, squeezing it gently. "y/n, i'm so sorry for all this. i'm so sorry for not being here for you. i never stopped caring about you, never stopped thinking about you."

you looked into his eyes, feeling the connection between you still strong. "i miss you so much, seungcheol. i don't know if i can keep going like this. everything feels so empty without you."

he pulled you into a hug, his voice soft and full of regret. "i miss you too, y/n. maybe... maybe we can find a way to make this work. i want to be here for you, in any way you need."

"appa, can you stay with us tonight?" your daughter asked, her eyes shining with expectation, startling you both as you were hugging.

seungcheol looked at her, letting go of the hug, hesitant. "my dear, i... i don't live here anymore. i can't just stay."

disappointment crossed your daughter's face, and she looked at you with a pleading expression. "but, omma, please ask appa to stay. i don't want you to get sick again."

you felt your heart ache at seeing the sadness in her eyes. looking at seungcheol, you saw the same hesitation and concern in his eyes. taking a deep breath, you just nodded to him, and he understood what you wanted to say with your look.

"okay. just for tonight." he said, turning to your daughter.

your daughter let out a little squeal of joy and ran to hug her father again. "thank you, appa! thank you, omma!"

you smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at seeing them together. even if it was just for one night, having seungcheol there brought an indescribable comfort.

the night passed slowly, with a mix of feelings hanging in the air. while seungcheol read a story to your daughter in the living room, you watched them from the hallway, your eyes still swollen but now with a glimmer of hope. his voice was calm and comforting, each word conveying a sense of security that you so desperately needed.

your daughter was snuggled in her appa's lap, laughing and having fun, momentarily forgetting the whirlwind of emotions she'd felt before. the sound of her laughter was like music to your ears, a reminder that, despite everything, there were moments of happiness and peace.

seungcheol looked up and met your eyes. a gentle and understanding smile lit up his face, and you felt your heart warm. he was there, even if just for one night, and that made all the difference.

when the story ended, your daughter fell asleep in her father's arms, tired but with a peaceful expression.

seungcheol carefully placed your daughter on the couch, covering her with a blanket. he then approached you, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene with a mix of gratitude and longing. without saying a word, he enveloped you in a tight hug, as if his actions could convey all the apologies and regrets that words couldn't.

"i'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked. "i'm sorry for everything you went through alone, for not being here when you needed me the most."

you let the tears flow, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. seungcheol's embrace was a safe harbor in the storm that had been the last year. "i'm sorry too, i know it's been hard for you too," you whispered, the words coming out amidst sobs. "i miss you so much, seungcheol."

he held you even tighter, as if he wanted to ensure he'd never let you fall again. "i'm here now, y/n. and i'll do everything to make sure this night isn't the last. i'll do everything to be more present, until i can be here every day."

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "thank you for coming," you said, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your chest. "even if just for tonight, having you here means so much to me."

he smiled gently and wiped the tears from your face. "whenever you need, i'll be here. and i'll do everything so that, in the future, we can be together again, as a family."

[felinecyan]

When The Night Calls

[Izuku Midoriya x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend leaving the hero course was enough to make you lose your mind. Especially when he’s suddenly standing across from you with nothing but a tired smile.

WC: 2978

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vigilante!Deku

Please give this one extra love!! Somehow Midoriya is also very suspiciously difficult to write 👀 (Also, that 3rd-degree burn I gave my hand today is making me want to cry and throw myself in a river. Damn you, AO3 curse!! )

『••✎••』

Seeing that letter taped on your door broke you in more ways than one.

He had been gone for almost a week, but his note left behind made you realize just how long it'd been. How long he had left you with nothing more than a simple explanation of his departure and how it felt like he was never coming back.

The entire class had been on edge ever since. The note even threw Bakugo for a loop, as much as he would deny it. It had everyone wondering where he was and if he was okay.

It hurt you the most, though. He was the closest friend you had and the only one who truly understood your feelings.

But now he was gone.

Aizawa still continued teaching, but with Midoriya absent, the class just couldn't focus. He wasn't as good at making things seem less depressing or stressful, and his lectures were just boring without a green bush to lighten the mood. Or at least, you thought so.

You haven't been paying much attention lately, and you're too busy thinking of your missing friend. Your grades had been slipping, but it wasn't like anyone could blame you. Even if your friends could, they didn't say anything.

They had tried talking to you, but all you could do was give them a half-hearted smile, shake your head, and tell them, "I'm fine."

You weren't fine, and you knew that. But what were you supposed to do? Cry about it? It’s not like he’d come back if you did that.

Ironically, he did technically come back.

That day, Aizawa decided to keep the pain everyone felt about Midoriya buried beneath the surface, so he assigned you all a ten-page essay about the history of quirks.

So, here you were, writing a half-assed essay close to two in the morning. Kaminari was blowing up the group chat with memes and random jokes, but no one seemed to care or even respond.

Well, that was until Bakugo started yelling at him to stop texting because he was trying to sleep.

That went on for about a solid ten minutes, with everyone getting annoyed at the two idiots, but eventually, it died down.

You took a glance at the clock, which now read 2:12 a.m.

Sleep just couldn't come to you. Not now, not when your brain was filled with thoughts of the broccoli boi.

Then, there was a tiny patter against your window, almost like a knock. If it hadn’t been so quiet, you might not have heard it.

You ignored it at first, of course, but it continued, the knocks getting louder and more urgent.

Finally, you stood from your chair, deciding to investigate, but then, the knocking stopped.

You paused, confused, but shrugged, figuring you must have been hearing things.

Yeah, right, because hearing knocks on your dorm window at 2 a.m. is normal.

It turned out to be a good thing you got up because when you turned back around, a figure was directly behind you.

You jumped back in fear, letting out a short shriek before slapping your hands over your mouth. The side eye glance to your window, now open and curtain rustling in the slight wind, had you regretting not locking the damn thing.

The figure let out a small chuckle, his shoulders shaking a bit, and your heart rate sped up.

You could see the person a lot better now that they weren't in the shadows, but the moonlight still kept their face hidden.

All you could see was the curly mess of green hair and a large hoodie with a black mask pulled over the bottom half of their face.

But you didn’t have to see his eyes to know exactly who it was.

Your hands fell limply to your sides as the boy stepped closer. His hand reached the hood of his suit, slowly pulling it off, and his bright, emerald green eyes were staring straight into yours.

The only thing you could do was stare, dumbfounded.

"You did lock it, by the way," the boy's voice said. It sounded hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in days. He probably hadn't.

Still, his intuition never failed.

You continued to stare, eyes wide and unblinking.

Midoriya's brow furrowed, a look of worry replacing his smile.

"They really should put more difficult locks on these things. I mean, honestly, all I had to do was twist it, and it opened. If I were a villain, then— hmph!"

Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, cutting him off. His eyes widened, surprised, but eventually, he relaxed, wrapping his own arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I was so worried," you said. You could feel your body starting to tremble, tears pricking your eyes. "Everyone was."

His arms tightened, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I couldn't think of any other way."

You leaned back a bit enough to look him in the eyes. His tired, determined eyes.

"Wait, if you’re here… does that mean...?"

"I need my notebook." He kept his frown, and a sigh escaped his lips. "You have my old notes, right? I need those."

Oh.

That was it.

That was why he was back.

"Oh," You failed to hide the disappointment in your tone. "Right, uh, hold on…"

You pulled away, your eyes looking away from his. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you walked over to the desk, rummaging through the drawer.

Speaking of, your desk was an absolute disaster. If allowing students in your dorm room wasn't against the rules, Iida would have broken down your door a long time ago, screaming at the top of his lungs about how your room was in utter chaos.

Eventually, you found it. It was covered in sticky notes, and some of the pages were folded. Makes sense, considering the fact that you'd spent the last week reading it, studying, and hoping to find some kind of clue about his whereabouts and the league itself.

But even if it was in your hands, screaming for its owner, you hesitated. He was going to leave again, wasn't he? He wasn't going to stay.

But common sense hit you. You couldn’t force him to stay. It would be selfish of you to even ask.

You turned, walking back over to him. He was staring intently at the ground, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and he had a small frown on his face.

When you were a couple of feet away, he finally looked up, his hand reaching out for the book.

"Here," you said, trying not to let the sadness seep into your words. "Don’t mind the added stickies. Simpler terms, easier to understand, you know?"

"Right, thanks," he murmured, his eyes darting over the cover before flipping through the pages. His brows were scrunched together, and his fingers fiddled with the pages, flipping through them with a practiced speed.

He was so concentrated on the notebook that he didn't see your frown, and he didn't see the sadness in your eyes.

But then, he froze.

His eyes scanned over one of the pages, his fingers tightening around the spine of the book, and his breath hitched.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his lips were set in a tight line.

"You read this?"

"Huh?" You blinked, taken aback. "Was I… not supposed to read it all?"

"What? No, no, I meant this page."

He flipped the book around, opening it to a certain page, and held it up for you to see.

Oh, yeah, his page. The one where he wrote about himself. Which, proudly, you knew most of what was written in it, anyway. Some things caught you off guard, but not many.

"Oh, yeah, I skimmed over it," you admitted.

"And... how much did you skim over?"

"Um... all of it? I mean, I'm in your hero notes, too. I took a lot more of my time on the page dedicated to me, I have to admit, but uh… What's the big deal?"

Midoriya looked at you, and his gaze was intense. "Did you… miss me that much that you would study my hero notes that closely?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say closely—"

He tilted his head in an almost sarcastic manner, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned over to point at a section in his notes.

A bright pink sticky note, covered in stars, was stuck onto the paper.

It was a small part, a very short paragraph, and you had given your analysis of him and not of his quirk either. It was a list of his attributes, his personality, and the type of hero he was.

To someone else, it would be pretty informative about what kind of person he was and what kind of hero he would be, but you both knew the true meaning behind the note.

Because it was all the things you missed about him.

"�� oh, " was all you could say.

The air around you two suddenly became awkward, the silence becoming heavy.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But, as expected, Midoriya broke the silence.

"I figured since you’re still awake, it must mean that you're working on homework or studying, and you wouldn’t do that at night if I weren’t gone," he began. "I thought that maybe it would be too soon to come back, or even that I should have stayed away, but, well, I really needed my notes, and, honestly, I wanted to see you, and—!"

He was rambling again. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, his brain spitting out more words than his mouth could.

At least he was still himself, you thought.

You decided to cut him off, placing your hand on his arm, and he jolted at the sudden contact, his head snapping back up to yours.

"I’m sorry," you said, looking down.

He looked confused, tilting his head. "What for? You have nothing to be sorry for; you didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I—" You cut yourself off, biting your lip, and looked away. You took a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry," you started. "For not stopping you. For not coming with you. For not helping you. I had no idea what you were going through, and I was too worried about myself, and I didn't—"

"Hey, hey, stop," Midoriya said, placing his hand on your shoulder. You hadn't realized you were shaking. "This is my fight, okay? It's not yours, and I was the one who didn’t want to bring anyone else into this mess. This isn’t your fault, so please don’t beat yourself up about it."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." You looked back up at him, tears blurring your vision. "I don’t know how to help."

He was silent for a moment, but then, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you once again, and you buried your head in his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

"It's okay," he said. "I don’t expect you to know how to help, and I didn’t come here for your help. Well, technically, I did since you had my notebook, but I’m speaking on a—"

“I know, I know," you mumbled.

Another moment of silence, and then, he sighed, a puff of air brushing your ear.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back, if I ever will, but I promise," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear and his words making your heart skip a beat. "I promise we will be fine. We all will. Me, you, everyone else. It might take a while, but we will be okay."

You nodded, your grip on his hoodie tightening. This was the sound of a goodbye, and the finality of it terrified you.

"It’s just…" you mumbled, and his brow furrowed.

"Just what?"

You hesitated, a lump forming in your throat.

"What?" He repeated, pulling back to look you in the eye. "Please tell me."

You took a deep breath, swallowed the lump, and looked him in the eye.

"It's just that... You’re my not-alone buddy, remember?”

Midoriya froze, his eyes widening.

It was a little game you two had back when things weren’t so complicated. Back when you were just normal students.

You both struggled to make friends, so you made a pact. Obviously, that thought disbanded when everyone else got close, and now you all were pretty good friends, but the friendship between him and you was different. It was a bond between you two that was just special.

Not even ‘Kacchan’ could ruin that, as close as he and Midoriya grew.

You never called him Deku, even after Bakugo and the rest of the class started calling him by the nickname. Sure, it was his hero name, and you could call him that, but you just never felt comfortable.

Todoroki didn’t either, but then again, Todoroki didn't call anyone by their nicknames.

But, back to the point.

"We made a pact, and... that was one of the things I wrote on the sticky notes." You gestured to the book. "It was during my angry denial phase, so I’m not that proud of it, but… it was still true."

"You were angry?" He asked, confused. "Why?"

"Well, first of all, I was worried sick. I knew you were going to go do something stupid, and obviously, I was right.”

He winced at that.

"But I was angry because you didn’t trust me, and I felt like you were leaving me, too," you said, biting your lip. "I know that sounds stupid and selfish, and I get that this was your battle, not mine, and I can't change that, but... I guess I was just scared. You didn’t even tell me before you left, and the note was just..."

You trailed off, a lump forming in your throat again, and your eyes burned with tears.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, so you buried your face in his chest again, and his grip tightened around you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

You shook your head. "Don’t apologize. It's not like you're changing your mind."

He was quiet for a moment, his head lowering and his lips resting on your forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. "Izuku, please don't say it."

He pulled back, and his face was unreadable. He looked determined, his eyes burning with passion, and it hurt. It hurt to know that, despite everything, he still had his mind made up.

"I have to go," he said, and his voice was quiet. "I don’t want to leave you alone. I really don’t, but I have to, and you need to stay safe. Me being here isn't doing anything good, and I can't keep coming back and putting you in danger. So, for now, at least until the Shigaraki is dealt with, please just be safe. Don’t try and find me, and please don't let anyone else know I was here."

He paused, his eyes glancing towards the window.

"Actually, I might come back just to get rid of that lock. I mean, seriously, I barely even touched it, and it came right off. You could easily replace it with something stronger, maybe one of those new locks that only respond to fingerprints! But, then it can be traced back to you, and they can use you to— oh, man, I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

You didn't bother to respond. Instead, you leaned up, pressing your lips against his cheek.

Midoriya's entire face went bright red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

You could feel your face burning, but it was worth it to see his reaction.

"Be careful," you said. "Please, Izu, don’t be stupid."

"R-Right."

He stumbled a bit, his hand coming up to touch the spot where your lips were. His eyes flickered back to you, and you swore you saw him blushing, but then he turned, heading towards the window.

"Oh, uhm, b-by the way," he said, reaching the window. He placed his hand on the frame, glancing back at you. "For Aizawa's essay, you have to also analyze the strengths and weaknesses, not just the evolution of quirks. Make sure to read the whole paragraph in that book he gave us at the beginning of the semester."

He gave you one last smile, pulling the mask over his mouth and the hood over his head. You looked in befuddlement as he stepped out onto the roof, and your hands were wrapped around the edges of the open window.

"How did you—"

"It's Aizawa," His mask was muffling his voice, so he lifted it up a bit, and his eyes twinkled. "What else do you expect from him?"

And then he jumped.

He let the mask drop back down and became just another shadow in the night, with his green lightning trailing behind him.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, and you didn't have the heart.

You leaned against the windowsill, letting the cool night air wash over your face. You sighed, watching the clouds drift in the sky.

"You're still an idiot," you whispered, closing your eyes.

When the sun rises, this encounter will only be a distant memory.

But for now, the cold night was enough to convince you otherwise. For now, his green eyes were staring up at the same night sky, and he was thinking of you, too.

That kiss on the cheek, as tame as it was, was still enough to make his head spin. You were still his friend, his not-alone buddy, and nothing was going to change that.

And you both were okay with that.

[vellichxrr6782]

please please please write alhaitham being WHIPPED for his cute short lover

— aiming low, aiming high.

character[s] — alhaitham. theme & genre — alhaitham helps you place a book on the shelf, but not without slipping a few teasing remarks about your height. cw/tw — none. word count — 800+ words. a/n — when im short but i cant write short reader and when i kin alhaitham but i cant write alhaitham 💔💔

alhaitham is a man of great restraint, which all seemingly disappears when it comes to you, his lover. a few months ago, you started dating the scribe, who was the dictionary definition of stoic and unassuming. he didn't quite care for attention from those he wasn't privy to.

but he found himself wanting your attention all the time. it was an odd feeling for him; to be so... dependent. he was used to doing things alone, but then you appeared like some sandstorm, wrecking any level of control he had in his life.

he was sitting at his desk, while you sorted through his books. he'd given you a pattern that he preferred to have his books arranged in, when you'd said something about how messy his office was.

"i don't need it to be clean when i know exactly where everything is." he had told you. "if your desk has books on it, where will i sit?" "on the chair." "..."

alhaitham saw you reach up, holding an ivy book with gold cutouts. it was a heavy book, and you struggled to hold it properly and push it into the slot. due to your small stature, you had to stand on your tip-toes to try and reach it.

a slight smile (yet another thing he couldn't control because of you) made its way onto his lips as he observed you. you were... well, if he had to put it objectively, short.

the height difference between you two was rather prominent. alhaitham was tall to begin with, and he'd never really cared for his height until he met you. he enjoyed being the taller one, more than he'd like to admit. it was amusing to him, to provide absent-minded musings about your short stature, and even more amusing seeing your expected reactions.

he loved it when you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, he loved it when you fit so snugly against his body when you two cuddled at night, and he loved the feeling of towering over you because it made him feel like he was protecting you.

not that you really needed any protecting. you were well capable of dealing with people. they say the smallest people have anger that's more concentrated; and he found it to be true when it came to you. you were vibrant in your expressions, quite different to him.

you were like the sun, and he was the moon. and even the moon sought the sun's light, after all.

you didn't realise when he'd snuck up behind you, both hands wrapping around your waist. he bended down to rest his chin on your shoulder, taking in the scent of your freshly washed clothes. there was a soft warmth in your embrace, what he'd define nostalgically as home.

"need some help, habibti?" he murmured, his voice low, his heated breath hitting your ear in a way that made you shiver.

"i'll be fine," you replied, warding off the butterflies in your stomach, "it's a book."

"this book seems to be greatly troubling my lover," he said, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "i can't stand to see you in such perplexion. should i deal with it for you?"

you flushed a little at him calling you his lover. he'd said it before, but it felt odd to hear someone like him say the word as if he was saying hello. he didn't wait for your response, his hand grasping yours atop the book, deftly wrestling the book out of your hold and placing it into the slot.

you coughed, once, turning to meet his gaze. you had to look up at him, your eyes narrowing into an unamused expression when you saw that smirk on his lips.

"i'm expecting a comment about my height." you said, crossing your arms.

"i wasn't going to do it." he replied, but you weren't convinced. it was almost like he was holding back laughter. when he saw you stare at him, unconvinced, he slumped his shoulders, snaking his big arms around your small figure.

"i could fit you in my pocket." he spoke, leaning down to rest his head against your shoulder. "like a mini [name]. maybe you could take care of my keys for me, make sure i don't accidentally grab kaveh's."

"and there it is." you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he wanted to pick you up and... well, he didn't think that far. that train of thought crashed the second you pressed your lips against his.

he kissed you back, cupping your cheek. when he pulled away, he didn't really know what expression to make. his mind naturally settled for a smile, his eyes narrowed teasingly.

and here comes the second attack-!

"you're so short. my back hurts from crouching like this to kiss you." he said, feigning a woeful tone. critical hit, no survivors.

"don't make me hit you." came your quick reply. "hit me where?" he chuckled, "my face? you'll need a stool to reach that, habibti." "i can still reach your knees."

posted on 10th july, 2024.

[pedge-page]

What about Joel having to spend a night away for work last minute and reader sulking about it when he gets home and blanking him? 🤣 Cue grovelling from Joel lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Late From Work

Notes: I must be too yeehaw American because I had to look up what "blanking" someone meant 😂. Anyway, I had so much fun writing this! Decided to make him late rather than spending a whole night away because lets be real, she'd be serving divorce papers for that.

Warnings: brief oral (f receiving) scene; jealous!Reader, Stubborn reader is BACK

18+ ONLY:

- - - -

He knows he fucked up too. Big time. 

When he said he’d be home at the latest by 7:00pm and it’s now 7:02 and he’s just getting in the truck leaving the site. And when his call goes to voicemail for the 3rd time, and then the fourth time tells him that the number is no longer valid (he’s been blocked), he knows he’s in Big-Fucking-Trouble.

Doesn’t want to call Tommy up for help to coax partially because he wants to fix this own his own, and partially to save Tommy from your wrath you most certainly will take out on him rather than your absent husband.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers at the grocery store (he’s already in the doghouse so what’s another 5 minutes added to his sentence) and is currently speeding home, a solid 15mph over the limit. Tonight isn’t even anything special: you had both just come back from a lovely weekend trip on the coast and were just settling back in to your house. But when Joel doesn’t deliver on his word, isn’t home for pizza and Pepsi, and sitting behind you while rubbings your back and belly for a quiet movie night…

Well, he’s never been late since the start of your pregnancy. Doesn’t want to think what hellfire you’re going to spit at him the moment he walks in that door.

So here he is about to walk in that door. He takes a big breath, not feeling this anxious since the he proposed to you, and steps in.

He immediately makes contact with you: standing at the end of the hall, illuminated by the kitchen light with your extra extra large T shirt stretched over your belly and dangling loosely around your thighs, hands by your side, barefoot, despite how often he nags at you to wear socks around the house so your feet don’t get cold. He’s thankful to see you hadn’t packed a suitcase, trying to leave the house with a “my husband doesn’t love me” stunt again. 

You clearly had just been walking past when you heard the door, not even fully turning to him but just having your head directed to the entrance the second he walked in. You briefly note the flowers in his hands before your eyes quickly go back to his. He feints an apologetic smile, heart beating so hard. You’re soooo quiet. The calm before the storm.

He gulps hard. 

Instead, you turn forward once more and continue walking towards the living room without a word.

You have a hand on your back as you gently collapse onto the couch. 

“Baby,” he says meekly, voice all tiny yet determined.

You pull your legs up over a pillow and fold open your book.

He comes to kneel beside you, immediately kissing your shoulder.

You do nothing. 

“Baby,” he says more clearly. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t beat the time.”

You flip a page, tilting your head to read the fascinating text on the page rather than listen to your poor husband on his knees for you.

His fights with the sleeve of your shirt. Would you at least look at him? He’s holding the flowers still in his hand, big puppy dog eyes trying their best to plea with you, and with his irresistible pouty lips that get him just about anything he wanted from you. But you only lend him a sigh, flipping yet another page.

So it’s gonna be like that.

"Please, angel. I was tryin' so hard to leave on time like I said. They got the concrete all mixed up and it needed to be set today, was tryin' to get out of there, just couldn't get it moving fast enough, I'm sorry baby I really sped over here fast I can to see ya, couldn't wait a second longer—"

“Oh!” You gasp suddenly.

He’s started, but nonetheless quick to be by you.

You check the clock on the wall and laugh. Time had gotten away from you too. You slam your book and hoist yourself up, on the other end of the couch to avoid his anxious hands fluttering to your aid. You brush past him and start your climb up the stairs.

Joel is right behind you, a bit of hope stirring in him. Its not until you’re walking through your bedroom door—and slamming it right in his face that he gets the message loud and clear.

Perhaps he earned a night on the couch to pray your forgiveness. After finding a suitable vase for the roses, he puffs up his pillow, his back killing him (though he’d never say it aloud while you’re waddling around with a whole 'nother being in your belly for the last few months) and crashes down on the sofa.

He just makes out the light go off under the door in the bedroom before he too is closing his eyes.

Tomorrow brings a new day, and he’s gonna spend every second satisfying his wife. He’s deserves his stay on the couch tonight.

-

He did NOT deserve this bullshit.

It’s been 3 fucking days since he came home late.

3 days of waking up early, trying to kiss his beautiful wife and baby momma with sweet affirmations and praises, which you dodge and continue about your stubborn ignoring-test. He spent all morning cooking every single food you’d craved since your pregnancy started—waffles, French toast, cinnamon pancakes, toast with special mixed fruit jam you can only get at a grocery store an hour away, scrambled, over easy, poached, hard boiled eggs. All arranged so beautifully on the table, even going as far to put the napkins on the left, after you screeched at him a few months ago for haphazardly having them on either the right or left, and never with the fork consistently on top.

He thought he’d learned his lesson, thought he made more than enough up to you, but no. You breeze right by, making a cup of tea, and go back upstairs to your closed door.

Your sadistic mind had given him false hope when you hadn’t locked the door on him on night number two. He slept in his bed, but you had made a clear parry by slotting between the two of you the infernal pregnancy pillow that Joel had kept in storage since you “Much preferred your husband’s plushy belly and soothing rubs.” 

Fat chance tonight.

Every minute he wasn’t telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you are, how lucky he is, he spends groveling with please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a worm.

None of it sways you any differently. 

By day 4, he’s given up the sweet talk and grand gestures. Goes for a “think like her” kind of mental approach. 

He tries to bribe you—either making you a Pepsi float, or even bringing home the famous Hot Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with EXTRA Rainbow sprinkles. But even as he temptingly waves in front of your little wiggly nose, you don’t acknowledge him.

He makes a big show to sigh heavily in defeat, leaving it on the kitchen table alone and trotting helplessly upstairs for a shower.

Less than 7 minutes later he’s come back down to see if you’d given in yet, maybe even telling him what a fantastic husband he is while shoveling your face with ice cream and admitting you were being dramatic. 

Instead, you’re still sitting on the couch, exactly as he left you. Of course, the milkshake cup is completely empty, sucked clean of its gooeyness, and there’s a little splotch of chocolate sauce lingering on your chin you had failed to wipe clean. 

A start, he thinks.

Still though, you don’t pay him any mind, scrolling on your phone with tight lips.  

He wonders how long you could go on with this game.  

It’s honestly a fucking terrible miracle—not even since before you were pregnant had you gone this long shutting the fuck up. But now its horrifyingly eerie, like a curse has fallen upon him and he’s doing everything he can to break it, to bring back your nagging and bitching and whining and crying because it would be so much more relaxing than this new kind of psychotic hell you’ve subjected him to.

He starts getting a little more involved: playing with your body, touching you softly with gentle strokes along your thighs and belly. You hadn’t flinched away, or tried moving to another spot on the couch. 

Which confirmed one thing to him: your horniness and lack of physical attention from your husband due to your stubborn mind was losing your mental battle to hold out against him.

So Joel doesn’t say anything either as he moves his lips over your breasts, down your swollen belly and kissing his babygirl in your bump. He mumbles, “Mommy is awfully mad at Daddy, think I can cheer her up?” 

The baby kicks as if in agreement. His gaze glances up briefly to see if you’re listening.

Your eyes catch and yours quickly dart away, leaning back and pretending to yawn. He snickers before continuing his hot trail of open mouthed kisses until your legs “shift” and “accidentally” part on their own.

He makes sweet, insatiable yet slow love to your pussy, licking a fat strip from your little clenched hole to that hot delicious center that is beyond wet for him—yet another example of how much your body clearly can’t ignore him forever.

But, ever as he brings you to a long needed orgasm, you bite your tongue, absolutely refusing to give him even the slightest sound of satisfaction despite clenching tightly around his thick digits pumping into you. Only letting out a strangled breath through your nose while you stare up to the ceiling, fingers folded across your tummy as if bored. 

He wipes away the slick from his mustache. Hell, even he can admit you deserve an applaud for making it through that without uttering a peep to his skills.

Hurts like hell on the inside though that you’re just that mad still.

He had hoped that being forced to drive with him due to your size preventing you from sitting behind the wheel would corner you into talking him, but even then, as he opens the passenger door for you, you climb aboard and slam the door shut without his assistance.

Now the two of you are on your way to yours and Maria’s weekend brunch. Tommy was also coming to drop his girlfriend off, so it would be a good time to catch him up on this unqiuely-pregnant-you madness.

You snatch your purse and hop out of the car, mood going a full 180 and instantly greeting Maria with a warm hug and perky voice. The two of you sit down at a little table way aways from your idiot husband and brother in law.

Tommy nods him over to the bar and Joel grumbles over.

“She ignoring you?” His little brother asks while shelling peanuts.

“Is it that obvious?” Joel shakes his head. He can’t even leave off with Tommy because he knows you won’t answer his texts asking what time you’re done for pickup. So he’s stuck here to wait for you the entire time.

“You try going down on—“

“Yes! Yes I fucking tried.”

“She didn’t like it?”

“Oh no, she came hard. Wouldn’t even whimper for me when she was clenching her little cunt around my fingers—” he says with an aggressive whisper, his pointer and middle fingers shooting up in the air with wild eyes demonstrating the scene, “—and her little numb twitchin’ on my tongue. Didn’t even fucking moan. She’s a stubborn girl but I don’t deserve that.”

Tommy shakes his head with a chuckle. “Damn. That’s just determination right there. Gotta give it to her.”

Tommy excuses himself with a slap to the shoulder, muttering “gotta take a leak” and disappears to the bathroom.

Joel wouldn’t mind having a drink right now, but know’s he’s gotta stay sober to drive you home. A miserable, silent filled drive once again. He glanced at his watch, following each tick of the hand.

“Hi there.”

Joel almost didn’t address the voice of the woman who had gentle snuck up behind him, moving to take Tommy’s seat. She’s probably a little younger than you, a nice kind smile, inviting and warm towards a stranger. 

Joel politely smiles back with a little nod. 

She offers a sweet “thanks”, a blush creeping on her cheeks before she begins to speak: “Listen, I don’t mean to prude… but I saw you come in and ...I’m usually not so brash—but I was wondering…”

-

Meanwhile, your baby is beat boxing extra hard today in your stomach. You can’t even focus on eating your salad and keeping up with Maria’s chatter about Tommy’s nose hairs all over the vanity. 

Your baby is smart. She knows something is up. You narrow your eyes and look around, finding Joel and company at the bar— 

Except the company he is keeping is NOT Tommy but instead, a gorgeous woman tossing her hair and flashing her pearly white teeth off at your husband, who’s giving her his full attention. She’s giggling with him, taking animatedly with her hands, lingering heavy eye contact and touching his watch as if looking for an excuse to get closer.

You forget about the massive planet sized lump in your belly as you instantly stand up, nearly tipping the table and all its dishes and cutlery over. 

Maria is calling your name but you don’t have the mind to answer, striding over like a bull towards the bar.

-

“Hiiiiiiii!”

Joel and the woman both jump at the harsh shrill of an annoying, high pitched, slightly perturbed but faking a smile, voice screeching behind them—the most beautiful voice Joel’s ever heard…and had missed so dearly this week.  

The woman looks over to you, seemingly startled that you had interrupted the conversation so brazenly.

“Oh, um, hi,” she offers, blinking off your pregnant belly and abrupt appearance.

“This is Joel,” you boast, pointing the shlump of a man in front of her.

“Ah-Hello—“ she smiles again to him.

You add quickly. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m his wife.”

“Ah—I—“

“Annnnnnnnd this is our baby!” You boast, proudly rubbing over that enormous swell of your tumtum so she can see in case it wasn’t the biggest fucking thing in this room. “And… you are?” You ask sweetly.

“Um…” she takes one last glance at Joel, his apologetic shrug saying everything then at you, your hard gaze burning holes into her head. “…leaving,” she says towards you.

“Great answer. I like you :) Bye Bye now!” You wave enthusiastically with a chipper voice and a deadly smile. She nods fretfully and pops off the stool, walking away like a threatened animal.

He just chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at his hands with a grin. “Ya know, she just came over to ask where I got my watch.”

“And did you tell her your WIFE bought it?” You ask, poking your finger at his chest.

He has to hide his crooked smile. It’s the first time you’ve directly spoken to him since Monday. “Yeah, I did. She asked where ya got it, because she was looking for one just like it—for her husband.”

Your finger fidgets slightly, expression drawing a blank at the revelation turning over in your mind.

“……………………………………………....................................oh.”

He rotates his stool to face you. You’re steeping in your thoughts, the confidence faltering just slightly in your mind at the realization of how grossly you had interpreted the situation between that innocent woman and your hubby. He didn’t even care, though. All he could think about was how his heart feels 10x lighter seeing you back in your usual, bold, daring, audacious self. All of your attention on him once again.

“I’ll admit, still felt good havin’ ya come to my rescue.”

You scoff, near offended by his words. “Well duh, you’re mine.”

“That right? Even these last few days?”

Yet another bomb goes off in your head at the second realization—that you had forfeited your punishment to ignore him to the ends of the earth.

 You cross your arms defensively anyway. “Well... I…decided.”

“Mmm?”

“That…I needed a back rub. But you clearly you can’t pick up on that on your own so—now I have to verbally tell you.”

“Ah huh. Sure it wasn’t cuz you were jealous? Couldn’t stand me being interested in another woman since my own made it clear she didn’t want me no more? Because my wife decided she couldn’t be patient and wait the extra 13 minutes I was running late before punishin’ me all goddamn week?”

Oh wait—was he really only late by 13 minutes? You could have sworn it was an hour plus!

“That wasn’t 13 minutes! Do you know how to tell time? It was over an hour—“

“Did you set your clock back like I told you to the night before when we got back from the coast, into our own time zone?”

😳

- - - -

Also this is how I see reader getting ate out but trying to be nonchalaunt about it:

conveniently also my favorite shot of Pedro during a photoshoot

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[writingthroughmyass]

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up. 

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it. 

Always. It's always like this. 

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back. 

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder. 

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath. 

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.” 

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing. 

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep. 

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night. 

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there. 

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.” 

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break. 

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.” 

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open. 

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself. 

Fuck. 

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping. 

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back. 

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave. 

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red. 

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away. 

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face. 

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing. 

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death. 

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind. 

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again. 

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way. 

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you. 

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick. 

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?” 

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed. 

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears. 

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem? 

“Fuck,” you croak. 

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment. 

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand. 

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink. 

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him. 

He laughs before complying. 

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now. 

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right. 

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” 

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked. 

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh. 

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. 

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed. 

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation. 

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you. 

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you. 

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you. 

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.” 

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved. 

You felt yourself feel a little calmer. 

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.” 

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice. 

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily. 

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom. 

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next. 

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered. 

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up. 

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind. 

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm. 

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together. 

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you. 

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?” 

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.” 

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back. 

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were. 

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact. 

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were. 

God… this is hell but also heaven. 

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass. 

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission. 

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter. 

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly. 

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect. 

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand. 

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused. 

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?” 

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you? 

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you. 

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair. 

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. 

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed. 

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him. 

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction. 

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.  

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door. 

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you. 

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on. 

“I'm done!” you called through the door. 

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest. 

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases. 

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh. 

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious. 

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.” 

He nods in understanding. 

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

But you weren't honest with yourself. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.” 

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot. 

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?” 

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something? 

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled. 

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully. 

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully. 

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not. 

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall. 

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you. 

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously. 

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned. 

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob. 

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly. 

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you. 

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body. 

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly. 

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit. 

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.” 

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify. 

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.” 

“Ah, sure, give me a second.” 

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders. 

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him. 

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good. 

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare. 

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you. 

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones. 

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs. 

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly. 

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off? 

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it. 

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now. 

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly. 

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting�� although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid… 

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice. 

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?” 

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now. 

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly. 

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

Tag List <3

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[hanniebaeee]

Always You

Best friend's brother Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: Just a bit of kissing.

Summary: You're in trouble and the first person you call is your best friend's brother, Minho.

Genre: fluff

Minho sat scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone as a movie played on the TV in the background. He was lonely and everyone he knew seemed to be busy. His best friends are out with their partners. His sister was on a date. He had no idea where you were. He wondered what you were up to. It's been a few weeks since you guys spoke and he missed you.

Placing the phone on his lap, he looked back at the tv and sighed. This is so boring.

He glanced down at his phone as it vibrated on his lap. His heart skipped a beat as your name flashed on the screen. He was quick to grab it, pressing it to his ear.

'Y/N?'

Your breathing wasn't right. You were stuttering and crying and he was on his feet, already moving out of the living room.

'Minho? Minho, oh my god!' You couldn't form words as your sobs took over.

'Y/N, where are you? Are you hurt?' Minho's questions were urgent as he was already out of his apartment, speed walking to his car.

'Minho, I don't know where I am. I'm so scared, can you please come and get me? Please?' You cry and his heart sank.

'Jagi, send me your location and sit tight, yeah? I'm on my way.' Minho said, waiting and looking at your location.

'Are you hurt? What happened?!' He asked, driving - already skipping a red light.

'I fell and I think I twisted my ankle... I'm not even dressed right, Minho. I'm, I'm -'

'It's ok. I'm on my way.' Minho said, trying to console you.

His heart was racing as he sped through to find you. You were his younger sister's best friend. Your family had moved to Korea when you were in middle school and you all grew up together. Being a foreigner had been hard and you did face some level of bullying and racism at school, but Minho and his sister, Hana had been your pillars of support. Minho was fiercely protective over you both and it never channged even as you got older.

You and Hana were still best of friends. Minho had moved out of his family home after college, but he did stay in the same city. You and Hana too worked nearby, so you all met every now and then. It's been a while now, and he couldn't help but feel a flood of emotions course through his body as he thought of you.

Minho has had a soft spot for you for years. Hana teased him endlessly for this. And he was sure that was a little in love with you. He tried his best to ignore these feelings as he didn't want to complicate your relationship. You were one of the nicest persons he knew - you were kind, you were so caring and loyal and above everything, you were always there.

Unknown to Hana, he called you whenever he felt like things were getting out of hand. On his most stressful days, he would ask you to come over, you would share a drink and hold his hand until his calmed down. Nothing more, nothing less. You gave him support. You gave him your time and your presence, no matter when he wanted it. And you never asked for more.

Minho looked at the map and saw that he was close. His eyes fell on your shivering form at the side of a secluded road. Stopping the car, he was out in an instant, making his way over to you.

'Y/N!'

Your head snapped up and you were crying harder at the sight of him. He was on his knees in front of you, hugging you tightly. Pulling back, he checked you for any injuries and then he saw you swollen ankle. You wore a navy blue sequined dress that fell to your mid thigh and heels - you never liked heels. You were way too clumsy on them. You shivered and Minho quickly draped his jacket over your exposed shoulders before helping you stand. You wince in pain and said, 'I don't think I can walk, Minho. I'm so sorry, I can't-'

You weren't even done talking, when he picked you up bridal style, making you gasp. After helping you into the passenger seat safely, Minho was driving again.

'What happened?' He asked.

'I had a fight with Lisa. She dragged me to a party and tried to set me up with her friend. She said some really mean things when I refused, she kinda forced me and...I said I wanted to go home, she agreed to drive, but then, ditched me in the middle of the road. We fought again and she kinda pushed me. These stupid heels-'

'What kind of friends do you keep Y/N?!' Minho scolded, glaring at you. 'Why wasn't Hana aware of this?'

'Hana had plans, I didn't want to bother her' You said sadly.

'Its just a date Y/N. You always come first.' Minho said.

'Im sorry Minho. My dad is out of town and if my parents ever knew, they would never let me out of the house again. You know them... Yours was the only face that came to my mind when -' You pull at your dress self-consciously, trying to cover your thighs as much as possible.

You fall silent and Minho looks at you for a second before his eyes are back on the road. His heart fluttered at the thought. He was the only one you thought of. He placed a hand on your knee, patting gently.

'I'm sorry i got mad. I was so worried when you called crying. I don't even know how I got here.' Minho said with a sigh. 'How does the ankle feel?'

'It's ok, Lino.' You said, and smile as you see a small smile on his face. 'My ankle hurts though.'

He takes you straight to the emergency room, where you get your ankle looked at and bandaged. He carried you to the car even though you told him a hundred times that you can just take a wheelchair. Then he takes you to his apartment, and orders some food.

You sit on his sofa, watching him plate up the food and hand your plate to you. You eat in silence, his eyes not leaving you.

'What?' You ask, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

'Why was Lisa trying to set you up with some random guy?' Minho asked, eyebrows furrowed.

'She's like that. She thinks I don't date anyone 'coz I can't get a date on my own.' You said, chewing on your food. 'She can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe I don't want to, you know.'

'Why don't you want to?' Minho asked, keeping his plate on the coffee table and turning to face you.

'I just-' You contemplate whether it's safe to say the truth or not. 'Lino, you know why.'

'I do?' Minho asked, and you know he does. He just didn't want to acknowledge anything.

'Don't you?' You ask, tilting your head in question. 'After all this time?'

'I need to hear you say it.' Minho said, moving closer.

'Why won't you say it?' You ask, your heart hurting at his avoidance. 'Don't I come running anytime you need me? I'm always here aren't I? You've always known. Since high school, Lino.'

'Y/N-'

'Don't tell me that you don't think about that camping trip. If you pretend that it didn't happen, it won't go away.' You say, tears blurring your vision.

You were in your first year of college and you had gone on a camping trip with Hana and Minho. The siblings went on to fight throughout the day and by nighttime, Hana refused to even sleep in the same tent. But they literally had no other option, so you offered to sleep in the middle to which they reluctantly agreed. Late into night, you heard sniffling and turned to face Minho, who was in tears.

'Lino, what happened?' You whispered, moving closer to him.

'Hana thinks I'm not a good brother. My father thinks I'm not a good son. Im just a fucking failure-'

'Yah, what are you even talking about?!' You asked, pulling your hand out from under your blanket to wipe at his tears. 'Hana just wanted to win the fight. You know that.'

'They keep doing this. They keep telling me I'm not good enough!'

'Lino, you're good enough. More than good actually. People say mean things just to ruffle you when you're right. I'm sure they don't even mean it. Don't you trust me?' You asked, cupping his cheek with your hand. 'You're the best.'

Minho wiped the tears off his face and opened his arms.

'Can we cuddle?' He asked. 'Please?'

You stare at him, surprised. You've never done this before. But you nod and settle underneath his blanket, your back presses to his chest. He makes a cocoon with the blanket around you, his arms tight around you. Sleep comes almost immediately in his warm embrace. But late into the night, you turn around in your sleep, and open your eyes as your nose touched his.

He opens his eyes too, both your faces so close - noses touching, lips so so close. His eyes drop to your lips and his arms around you tighten, pulling you as close as humanly possible. You let it happen - his lips are so soft and warm and gentle on yours.

'It's so fucking hot!' Hana's loud voice had you both jumping apart. Minho turned to the other side, breathing heavily and you remained silent as Hana sat up and tossed her jumper to the side. The next morning, the siblings apologized and made up. You and Minho never spoke of this incident after that day. But you both knew that deep down, you were both in love.

'I was afraid' Minho said, slowly. 'I didn't even know if you wanted to kiss me back. I felt like I had just done it and you didn't even have a chance to push me away. And then Hana woke up and-'

'You're an idiot if you thought I didn't want that.' You said, shaking your head. 'If I felt violated that day, I won't be here every time you wanted my company, Minho.'

Minho nodded and sighed.

'I don't want to ruin anything, Y/N. Hana loves you a lot and I can't-'

'Hana knows that I like you, you pabo.' You said and he stared at you like you had sprouted horns.

'She doesn't mind, does she?.' Minho said.

'Oh no, she loves the idea of us together.' You said, wanting to laugh at how clueless he could be sometimes.

'Why do you both always torture me like this?' Minho asked, running a hand over his face.

'Because you think you're too rough and tough, but you're just a cute little idiot.'

'Right. Good reason to torture someone.'

You shrug.

'So, what happens now?' You ask.

Minho looked at you, and his mind and heart were both very clear about one thing - he wasn't going to let you slip out of his hands again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

'I'm gonna love you. We have wasted a lot of time, baby. I'm not gonna sit here and waste anymore.'

Your eyes shine with happy tears as he hugs you and kisses you.

'I love you, Lino.' You mumbled against his neck. 'Never letting you go.'

'I love you more, jagi' he said, placing little kisses on the top of your head. He carries you to his bedroom and helps you get changed into some of Hana's pyjamas. You couldn't help but smile as he climbed into bed and settled down beside you. He kissed you more until you were both too tired and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Hana: Why didn't you call me?!

Hana: wtf Y/N!

Hana: where the hell are you?!

Y/N: yah, calm down

Y/N: I'm ok, at Lino's now

Hana: what are you doing there this early in the morning?

Hana: Y/N L/N

Y/N: Hana please

Hana: Did you guys talk?? Did you guys...?

Hana: Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes

Y/N: HANA.

Hana: where is that pabo

Y/N: sleeping

Hana: together, I hope

Hana: ew ew ew

Y/N: shut up

Y/N: are you coming over?

Hana: Sure. Be decent please.

Hana: Don't be gross in front of me.

Y/N: We'll be gross. Don't come - your brother.

Y/N: go away

Hana: oh my god, ew

Hana: disgusting

Hana: 🤢🤮

Y/N: be here for breakfast

Hana: You're mine first. Don't forget.

Y/N: of course

Y/N: love you❤

Hana: love you more ❤

a/n : I haven't done this in a long time and I'm soo happy to be writing again! I have like 9000 things in my drafts rn 😭 Feedback is much appreciated❤

[biteyoubiteme]

blueberry float

fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: you get carried away after a day on the beach with your surfer boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!! slight nipple play, oral (f!rec), marking, tummy love, public/semi-public sex, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.83k

an: you cannot tell me kai doesn't give off surfer vibes, he is so summer coded its unreal. this is apart of my float event check out the other memebers fics! feed back appriciated :)) not proofread sorry [m.list] [float m.list]

Kai has seen you in a bikini before so this time should be no different. only you’re standing under the outdoor shower head rising off the salt of the ocean, the sand dotting your skin, head leaned back as you run your fingers through your hair. That strappy swimsuit is the perfect pink color against your skin. droplets of water sliding down between the valley of your breast, dripping along your stomach, your thighs. he had done a double take when you had taken off your loose gauzy button-up shirt. he had seen you naked more times than he could count but something about so little fabric was making him hard, the illusion of your nipples outlined in the fabric drawing him in.

he had been trying to ignore you as much as he could, staying out on the water longer than he thought he would. but it was hard to look away when you were laid out on your towel, turning every half hour to tan, he didn’t know if it was harder to see the curve of your ass or the way you almost spilled out of your top. he wouldn't be able to stay out on the dying waves, tae and Gyu already drying off next to where you’re rinsing, the sun already hanging low in the sky. Kai also knew that once the rest of them made it back to the little beach house you guys had rented he wouldn't be able to get you alone. The walls were so thin he could hear when the other members walked around, the muffled conversations they had. He wasn't very good at being silent when it came to you.

Even when you started to dry off, your towel hanging around your shoulders covering most of your body he couldn't get the image out of his head. He was so out of it he didn’t hear Yeonjun calling for him wondering why he wasn't following after. distracted as he paddled after the rest of them.

you were no better off than Kai as you watched him come out of the water. the swim trucks he wore, heavy with water hanging on his hips just right and sticking to his thighs. he was wearing a skin-tight water shirt, the black material clinging to every ridge of his arms, chest, and stomach. he was shaking his head off the water, hair stuck to his temple. his surfboard tucked under his arm as he made his way over to rinse off.

He gave you a tight smile as he hit the faucet, leaning his board against the wooden rail people kept their towels on. He stood under the stream, tossing his head back and running his fingers through his hair. you watched him flex, the water making the material of his shirt shiny, a perfect map of every line making up his body. you tried to hold your towel out for him but he shook his head putting it back around you. the boys talking about what we should have for dinner. “I think we're going to do a lap around the beach,” Kai added, putting an arm around your shoulder. the boys nodded, taking his board with them as you were led away from the direction they were going.

“Are you okay?” you ask, arms circling his waist, he still wasn't looking at you only making his way past a few people sitting around on the sand.

“yeah I'm good,” but his voice is strained from trying to keep losing his cool. but the way you were leaning on him was pressing your boob right against him, every glance down to you was directed at your exposed cleavage. he was trying to not make it obvious he was hard but it wasn't helped that he could only feel the ache of your absent hands on him when you were this close already. It wasn't until you were past the few larger rocks separating the beach into smaller sections that he turned to you, wrapping your face in his hands and kissing you breathlessly.

Kai was fervent, sloppy with his need as he curled his fingers in your hair, nose brushing against yours. He wanted you close to him, one hand sliding down to your waist to push your hips into his. your gasp at how thick and hot he was in his swimsuit was caught in his throat. his kisses down your jaw, as you ran your hands over his stomach, trying and failing to curl your fingers into the fabric. “please,” he groaned against your neck, “I need you, I want you so bad,”

“here?” you ask looking over his shoulder, “anyone could see us,”

“I'll be quick,” he mutters already pushing the towel away, letting it fall to the ground, “I promise, I just can’t wait anymore, and we haven't had sex the whole time we've been here because those stupid thin walls,” he’s kissing down your throat, teeth grazing over your pulse, “please, please,” he begs between every peck.

It wasn't often that Kai was this needy, trying to grind into you, fingers almost bruising against your hip to try and pull you close to him for any friction. it didn’t take much thought to agree, the images of him all day running through your mind. the way he caught a wave, the cocky smile he wore when he stayed up longer than his friends, all the clinging fabric, everything about today was making you wet. “promise to be quick,”

he was nodding, pulling away to lay out your towel on the sand for you, pulling you down so that you were laid out on your back.

Kai sat on his knees wishing he had his phone to take a photo of you. He reached out tugging on one of the stings holding your bottoms on effectively untying them.

he leaned over you leaving hot open-mouthed kisses down from your collarbone to your chest. groping you over your bikini top, teeth grazing over your covered pebbles nipple. “you can’t leave marks we’ll be here all week my concealer will be washed away when we go swimming,”

“But you brought the black one-piece right?” he slid down kissing over your ribs.

“yes,” you nod, twisting your fingers in his hair. “So wear that one because I don’t think I’ll be able to function seeing you back in this one, do you know how difficult it is to hide a boner in wet swim trunks?”

you giggle as he presses his lips over your stomach, licking and nipping your flesh. He loved to leave you covered in little bruises, from your chest to your thighs he didn’t stop and your tummy was his favorite spot. leaving bites along his path, burying his face against your soft skin.

“All day I’m trying to think about anything but you all wet and then you stand there looking like I should lick up every drop of water,” he bites the strap still tied at your hip tugging it with his teeth until it’s undone and you’re bare for him.

“you said you would make it quick,” knowing Kai could spend hours between your thighs if you let him.

“I wanna kiss this pretty pussy before I ruin her,” he ghosts his lips over your clit making you chase the feeling. hips lifting enough for Kai to hold them down.

he swipes his tongue through your folds drawing a line from your entrance to your clit before latching on and sucking you hard enough to have your back arching a strangled whine leaving your lips. you want to be quiet but as he laps up your wetness you’re struggling to keep your bodies to a minimum. one of your hands sinking into the sand next to you, grains sliding between your fingers doing little to keep you sane. and then he’s prodding your entrance with his tongue nose bumping your clit in perfect synchrony.

you push him further into your cunt not caring if he can breathe when you’re cumming. his name on your lips as you come down finally letting him up. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his trunks dragging the head of his cock through your wetness making your legs twitch. “no time for much prep but I know you can take it,”

you feel the stretch of his mushroom tip as he pushes in slowly inch by inch. his eyelids heavy as he’s swallowed into your still thumping walls. “Sucking me in so good,” he moans pressing his pelvis to yours.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips needing him as close as possible when you’re this exposed. but even if someone walked around the rocks right now and saw you two you don’t think you would even notice.

Kai buried his nose behind your ear, kissing anywhere he could as he gave shallow thrusts. As much as he could say he would finish fast he forgot that as soon as he was back between your legs. your warmth so inviting he would lay still just cockwarming you without a care in the world. but then you were moaning, “Faster, please hyuka,” nails trying to scratch his back through the fabric of his shirt. squirming under him for friction.

following instructions he picks up speed finding his pace without much effort. hips knocking yours the wet sounds of his movements hidden behind the sound of the surf.

he was whimpering into your ear before planting both hands on either side of your head to find more leverage. His head thrown back, wet hair hanging against his forehead, throat exposed making you want to kiss his adam’s apple. He was close, sloppy thrusts and soft moans proof enough. He slipped one hand down between you two pinching your clit enough to not hurt.

he was buckling, shoulders curving in as you felt him twitch inside you, body falling forward as he came still cautious enough to not crush you. you could feel his hot cum fill you, your thighs weak as you followed right over the edge with him. both of you trying to stifle your moans to no avail.

you’re still trying to catch your breath when Kai laughs, “There was no way we could have stayed silent in the house, everyone would have known,”

“So in public it is,” you giggle, pushing the hair away from his face and behind his ears. “I can’t be blamed, you looked too good,” he planted a single kiss to your lips, “I wouldn’t be able to last another minute if you put this one on again,” he smiles, flicking at the straps around your neck.

When you two are cleaned up and Kais is tying your swimsuit bottoms back up he looks up from his knees. “you know you have sand everywhere, maybe I should help you out in the shower to get it all off?”

[sulumuns-dootah]

If WHB had PvP: King interactions

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Started playing new gacha game with PvP arena and got me thinking how the kings would react to having to fight other kings or their own selves ^^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan vs. Satan

"Wait, that's me?! Do I also have clones now like that fly bastard?"

"Hahaha I hope he enjoyed that as much as I did!"

"I'm not that short, c'mon!"

"Do you think that guy also has his own Sitri or do we both share him?

Satan vs. Mammon

"Who are you calling short?"

"This is what you get for taking what's mine!"

"Do you notice me now?"

"Heh, you won't see this one coming"

Satan vs. Beelzebub

"No matter how many clones he has, I'll beat him anyway"

"You stay away from my knees! Don't want a repeat of last time."

"This was the last time your clones took turns with MC!"

"After we're done here, wanna grab drinks?"

Satan vs. Leviathan

"Here's a little taste of what will happen the next time you'll try to kill MC!"

"About time someone burst that bubble of yours!"

"Time to wake up and smell the roses!"

"Who even is this guy, wanting to go back to school?"

Satan vs. Belphegor

"Man, imagine being able to sleep. Couldn't be me!"

"Oh hey, did anyone else see that corpse reanimate itself?"

"For someone who sleeps all the time, he sure does look tired."

"That guy Beleth, I could use someone like him too."

Satan vs. Lucifer

"Heh, look who just became a harmacist!"

"I wonder... if he injured me, would he also heal me afterwards?"

"When I first met him, he seemed weaker... Still, he's no match for me!"

"I heard a squeak earlier... Did I accidentally step on that tiny piss ballon?

Mammon vs. Satan

"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't notice you down there."

"I don't mean to be rude. It seems he's very insecure about many things."

"He's like an adorable kitten when he wants to play punch."

"I like small things"

Mammon vs. Mammon

"Ah, what a strange state of affairs. I must've somehow gotten multiplied."

"If there's two of me, does that mean we must share?"

"Do I own him or does he own me?"

"So this is what it feels like to be a Beelzebub."

Mammon vs. Beelzebub

"My subjects tell me he's more in Tartaros than in his own country"

"His food is palatable with enough gold on it."

"If I recall correctly, he tried to eat one of the pillars in my castle."

"I won't hold back the next time he whisks my master away."

Mammon vs. Leviathan

"That coffin seems valuable, I shall look into it more"

"I must admit, Hades is a beautiful country."

"Leviathan could use a visit to one of many Tartaros' spas."

"He's so pale. He should go out more."

Mammon vs. Belphegor

"I do respect a country which hasn't descended into chaos with the king mostly absent."

"I shall send him some new bedsheets. Who knows when was the last time he's had them changed."

"Ahahah, I do admit you do have a very unique power!"

"Such lifestyle does look appealing, alas my country would greatly miss my presence."

Mammon vs. Lucifer

"I respect you deeply. This is nothing personal."

"If you require financial aid, do not hesitate to ask."

"I hope Buer is satisfactory in his position as a healer"

"Do you miss your father as much as I sometimes do?"

Beelzebub vs. Satan

"Huhu, you're cute trying to fight me!"

"Oh, we were fighting?"

"I'm bored, let's jump someone together!"

"Hm, I kinda want a snack now."

Beelzebub vs. Mammon

"I could use a bigger meal."

"I just heard one of the Tartaros' beaches calling me. I have to go."

"Maybe we could go visit my favorite Abyssos casinos afterwards!"

"Hm, I wonder how the pillars in his castle taste like."

Beelzebub vs. Beelzebub

"Oh hello, me!"

"I see you're handling everything here, so I'll just get going."

"If you go to that café in Gehenna, I can go to that stall with fish sweets in Hades..."

"Are you Bael or are you really me?"

Beelzebub vs. Leviathan

"Levi! Nice to see you again!"

"I wonder if he liked the last souvenir I bought him..."

"C'mon, next time I'm in Hades I'm treating you to a fish steak!"

"Sometimes I think he'd love to give me a noose around neck too."

Beelzebub vs. Belphegor

"You won't mind if I borrow Beleth for a few weeks, right?"

"Ah, how is Andrealphus doing?"

"I wish I wasn't so busy and could just lay in bed all day!"

"If only Bael was here to see how well can a country flourish without the king being around all the time."

Beelzebub vs. Lucifer

"Next time invite your angel brothers along."

"I don't need anymore shots for now."

"Another Seraphim down."

"Paradise Lost is pretty, but the smell is horrible."

Leviathan vs. Satan

"Ah, how pitiful you'd even try to mesure up to me."

"Size matters, don't you know?"

"I expected nothing less from you."

"Someday you might grow out of it."

Leviathan vs. Mammon

"A shame, truly. You seemed as a worthy ally."

"Money isn't really what matters. It's beauty."

"That palace of his is very tacky, don't you think?"

"I've won, of course."

Leviathan vs. Beelzebub

"Ugh, just please stop talking."

"You're lucky you're not one of my subjects."

"I shall end you quickly to end my suffering."

"I wish I could be back at my castle."

Leviathan vs. Leviathan

"Finally, I get to defeat myself and come as the winner!"

"Who dares to multiply me and make me compete with myself?!"

"Hm... That color doesn't seem to suit my complexion."

"I'm jealous of other people for being able to see me from such point of view."

Leviathan vs. Belphegor

"Oh, to be able to stay at home all day without being interrupted."

"My coffin is way more comfortable than that cheap bed."

"Hades is beautiful and blooming, unlike Niflheim."

"Where is this Beleth I keep hearing about?"

Leviathan vs. Lucifer

"I shall keep an eye on you at all times."

"All angels are deemed untrustworthy in my eyes."

"I will never forgive your kind for what you've done to us."

"Perhaps, you'd also like to forget your past?"

Belphegor vs. Satan

"Man, your existence's gotta be terrible..."

"Jeez, why are you so loud?"

"Anger drains so much energy..."

"Couldn't be me..."

Belphegor vs. Mammon

"Nice pillows..."

"All that gold looks uncomfortable.."

"Wonder how nice the hotels are in Tartaros..."

"Can ya get me some figures at the Hellcon?"

Belphegor vs. Beelzebub

"Ya exhaust me..."

"Tell Bael I ain't givin' Beleth to anyone.."

"Ya gotta be tired from all that runnin' 'round..."

"Ugh, I'm exhausted..."

Belphegor vs. Leviathan

"Six... I'll have ya obliterated!"

"Ya remind me of that one anime character that dies in the end..."

"Imagine putting all that work in just to look like that..."

"I wonder when they'll announce another season..."

Belphegor vs. Belphegor

"Oh?"

"Well, what in tarnation?"

"Makes me double tired..."

"Ope, am I still dreamin'?"

Belphegor vs. Lucifer

"Hospital beds ain't comfy..."

"This Hell might be big enough for the two of us..."

"Agares might need ya soon, if he don't shape up..."

"That Andrealphus, he seems hurt, check up on him, will ya?"

Lucifer vs. Satan

"Humans believe you've taken on all my wrath towards my father. Thank you for relieving me of such impure emotions."

"You. I'd expected you taller."

"I deeply apologise for all the grief my brothers have caused you."

"Morax asked me to remind you to wear your mouth guard."

Lucifer vs. Mammon

"Ah, father must've been very generous while creating you."

"I can sense a deep sadness within you..."

"If your horn stump becomes painful, my doctors can help you."

"There were many demons who required back pain treatment after carrying his riches."

Lucifer vs. Beelzebub

"I was told my brother fears you. If that is what will keep him in line, I shall support such occurence."

"That Phenomenon, what exactly is it?"

"I believe you're due in for another health check up."

"They call him wandering king and yet I have yet to see him vacation in Paradise Lost."

Lucifer vs. Leviathan

"My lord, you truly are the epitome of vanity."

"Could you please keep your servant in check, so we do not have to use spells to ensure our morgue doesn't get broken into?"

"The amount of Hades demons addmited to the hospital because of thorn injuries is great. I wonder why?"

"I am deeply sorry for all the horrible things you've been through. I should've intervened."

Lucifer vs. Belphegor

"I feel insulted to be now considered your fellow."

"I believe we do have a cure for narcolepsy, If you'd be interested."

"Beleth, that name sounds familiar..."

"That halo doesn't seem like it was your to begin with."

Lucifer vs. Lucifer

"Has... father created another copy of me?"

"Am I so easily replaceable?"

"So this is how all the other demons see me... I now understand."

"If there's two of me, I shall work twice as hard now..."