#at least tell/call someone and keep an eye on the man

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

[faeries-child]

No place for love part 2

OTHER PARTS: Part 1

Pairing: Azriel x oc/reader

Summary: She was the only way to get the information the spymaster needed, but he would have truly given anything not to see her again. Not to be at her mercy, completely under her control, for she awakened things in Azriel that he would rather had kept in slumber.

Warnings: Mature content, nudity, prostitution, eventual smut, mention's of SA, fighting and a lot of other triggering things :,)

NOTICE: I AM A DYSLEXIC, NOT A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER, I WRITE THESE AT 2 AM, HAVE MERCY :)

(Also, I got some inspiration to this chapter from one of the episodes from BBC Sherlock, where there is the legendary Irene Adler)

The man under Brianna had started to annoy her. She had kept him company for hours now. Fucking him, making love to him, pleasing him however he wanted. She was tired, tired of him. His smell was all over her by now and she wanted nothing more than to wash it off in a long warm bath, that she could maybe get to enjoy later, if she succeeded in her mission. 

She was straddling him, running her hands on his chest and smiling down at him. The man was panting heavily under her, eyes closed and his hands still keeping her hips securely in place on him.

 “I do not believe I can go for another round anymore love” he said looking up at her. He seemed to be intoxicated with everything around them and especially with her. 

Brianna thanked the mother that it was over now. Now she could start the real game. “My lord, did I wear you out? but there were so many things that I still wanted to do.” She let out a fake giggle at the end to convince him of the act she was putting on before him. 

She rolled off him, leaving him on the bed. Brianna walked to the other side of the room, where her robe was abandoned on one of the many cushions that covered the floor and made up the makeshift lounging area of the room. She pulled the robe on to cover her naked body. Turning to face the man again, she smiled that vicious smile she knew to make in situations like this. 

“Tell me my lord, now that you are back from your travels, what's next?”

“Oh Brianna. Why must you remind me of that boring thing people call reality?” 

He turned on the bed so he was facing her. In his eyes Brianna could sense a bite of annoyance. But to Brianna he was a simple man, nothing more than plaything in a bigger game she got to play. Getting the right information meant that she would get to meet the high lord’s spymaster again. 

To Brianna it was fun, refreshing almost. Talking to someone who at least tried to be a gentleman. Someone who tried not to look at her only as an object to be toyed and fiddled with. 

“I was only meaning to ask so I would know if you would continue to grace us with your presence in the future. Many of my girls miss you, they would be delighted to offer their services to you.” You lied through your teeth, like hell would you let any of the girls near this man. He wasn’t the worst that there was, but if you would have been given the choice, you would have burned him to ashes before he ever laid a finger on you the first time. But at least he was simple at mind. Easy to control, easy to impress. 

“My Brianna, always so sweet tongued.” He got up from the bed, starting to collect his clothes from the floor and putting them on. “But yes, I will be staying for a while. Business in the east went well, so now me and my men are preparing for the next stage.” He spoke not realizing how much he was giving away.

Brianna could truly now tell that he wasn’t the brightest of the punch. But she had gotten enough information, it was not yet enough proof to prove anything, but at least she had something interesting to report back to the shadowsinger and the high lord. 

Brianna smiled and walked towards the man, straightening his collar while looking into his eyes. “I am sorry to inform you that our time together has now come to an end, my next client is waiting already.” 

At the right moment the doors to her champers were opened, revealing Daphne at the entrance.  “I am sorry my lord, but I must ask you to leave my lady's room now, but if you are in the mood, you can enjoy a drink downstairs at the lounge bar.” 

“Of course, and oh!” The man turned to look at Brianna before saying “I am sorry to disappoint the other girls you were speaking of, but you, my Brianna, are the only one that can satisfy my hunger.” 

He bent down at her level and kissed her as a goodbye, then smelling her neck when straightening his back. After that he left, and deep inside Brianna could feel a shiver of disgust, making her want to burn all that he had touched, including herself. 

It was wrong to say that she had gotten used to it, no one could get used to it. No matter how many times she laid with these men, every single time she imagined herself somewhere else. She wished she could put a dagger through all of their hearts. If only she had the freedom to do so. 

Daphne looked at her lady, her friend. Starting to close the door so she could have a moment to dress and gather herself. Maybe bathe as well. Daphne knew the expression on Brianna’s face, she knew that her friend needed to wash off his touch. 

“Daphne, wait.” She said looking at her friend's eyes. “I have message for you to deliver” 

“What is it Anna?” 

Brianna fully turned to her friend and smiled at her, knowing that soon she really could meet the shadowsinger again soon. 

“Send a message to the high lord and his spymaster. Tell them that I have information that they will want to hear. “

Azriel’s pov:

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand had been enjoying a quiet evening in the townhouse when the fire message came. Cassian had Nyx sitting on his knee, the little boy was chewing a wing of black bat toy that Nesta had gotten him for a present on his 1st birthday. 

Message appeared in front of Azriel's nose, making Rhys and Cassian turn their heads towards him. “What’s that?” asked Cassian, while trying to keep the little boy still on his leg. 

“The brothel already answered you?” Rhys concluded, making the assumption based on the frown on Azriel’s face. After the visit Azriel had been quiet, at least quieter than usual, which worried Rhysand. His friend hadn’t said anything about who he had met or what had happened at the brothel. 

“Yes” was the only thing Azriel answered. Not wanting to let his brothers know how helpless he had been before the woman. 

“So this means…?” Cassian asked, trying to pry more information from his brother. 

“Me and Rhys are taking a trip to the court of nightmares” Said the shadowsinger, thinking that bringing the high lord with him, he could maybe get more serious information from the woman. 

Azriel still didn’t know her name. In his mind he had started to call her “the woman”, not knowing anything else that fit better. She was certainly no girl. Even though she was young, no one inexperienced could act that way. Her eyes had been so dark and Azriel knew that based on the little bits and pieces he had seen of her living space and life, she had seen more than most of others. 

After Gathering their weapons, they put on Hewn city-appropriate clothes so they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumb in the dark catacombs of the city that resided under their beloved house of wind.

 This time Azriel took extra care in securing daggers and truthteller on his belt, not wanting to be caught off guard. Memories of the woman haunting his mind. He had not been able to shake her from his mind. That devilish smirk entering his dreams, his shadows whispering about her every second he got. He wanted her, but at the same time he wanted to stay as far away from her as he could. Lock her up and keep her to himself, leave prythian and never see her again. 

She was going to be the end of him.

Hewn city:

Rhysand gave him suspecting look, when arriving at the front of the brothel. Azriel however ignored the look and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply once, before stepping inside the place. He gestured to Rhys to follow him. 

Azriel saw the girl from earlier. She was beautiful as well, he assumed that all of the girls here were. Daphne his shadows whispered to him. 

Daphne approached them. Seemingly taken aback by the high lord’s presence. So the woman had not told anyone that the high lord would be joining them tonight. She curtsied to the high lord, as well to him. Azriel only nodded to her. 

Rhys had raised his glamor. Trying to blend in, not to cause unnecessary attention and rumors that the high lord of the night court had been seen in a place such as this. 

“We received an invitation. According to you, you have what we asked” Rhysand said, keeping his voice calm,  but still demanding power. 

“Right this way my lord’s” was the only thing she said, turning and starting to walk towards the stairs. 

Azriel and Rhysand followed. Not questioning where she was taking them.

Why are you so tense? It was Rhys, speaking directly into Az’s mind from the open crack that had left for him. 

Be on your guard brother, please. 

It was the only thing the shadowsinger had time to say before reaching the familiar door. Daphne opened it for them, revealing the already familiar room to Azriel. 

They took a step to the room. Both him and his brother assessing the space. 

After making sure there wasn’t anyone else in the room and that the door was shut, he gazed upon her. 

She was at least dressed this time. In a blood red dress, revealing her neck and chest so that it would leave any man drooling. Dress was simple, but clearly expensive, seeing that it was perfectly tailored to her, hugging in all the right places, before widening to airy hem pooling down at the woman's feet. 

Last time he had been so focused at not staring at her, that now that when he looked at her face. Truly looked at her in a beautiful dress and hair that fell freely past the woman’s waist in curls. She was the most beautiful creature that he had ever come across. Right in that momen, Azriel knew he was doomed. Because for him she truly was THE woman, the only woman.

“Good evening, lord of shadows”

continued... (part 3 hopefully coming soon :,) )

[poopyheadass]

So apparently my dad had a seizure at the show he and my brother went to last night, and instead of doing something about it, my brother dropped him off at home and left without telling anyone?????

[fumiliar]

self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.

your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.

"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.

kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.

"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.

"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.

"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"

"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.

"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.

"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.

"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.

"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.

"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.

"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.

restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.

"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.

"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.

"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.

"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.

"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.

"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.

"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.

"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.

"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."

kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.

"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[xinganhao]

🌀 svt reacts to idol!reader having dating rumors.

anon → "could you do ot13 with an idol s/o who’s had dating rumours with another idol/member (/ω＼) big jealousy potential"

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: f!idol reader, mentions of other idols/groups, established relationship, jealousy & sulking 😋, pet names, a kms-adjacent joke (junhui). [short] headcanons under the cut.

🌀 headcanons .ᐟ

seungcheol used to be a lot worse in dealing with your dating rumors. a lot worse. the man would be unbearably sulky for days, but he's since moved on to accept that this is part and parcel with the job. nowadays, he still feels a small itch to be dramatic— but at least he does it with your consent. expect him to rival a kdrama lead with all his lines.

jeonghan gets annoyed. of course he does. he's just prideful enough to feel a little off-put by the rumors, especially how you might've played a role in it. he's learned how to cope, though, through the likes of long-winded video essays and multi-part instagram reels. catch him on his burner twitter account, fighting people over their misconceptions about you. (bonus: he's a one-man team who insists you would look good with "the most handsome member of svt, yoon jeonghan.")

joshua's just chronically offline enough to miss the fact that there are any rumors at all. if he's not hearing it from you, he'll be catching wind of it from the boys who show a little bit of concern. but joshua's the first to giggle at all the ludicrous claims because he just thinks they're all so stupid, honestly. his favorite pastime is dissecting and discussing it with you over a meal, where he makes it his personal mission to have you laughing it off by the end of the night.

junhui thinks he's going to die. no, really. for someone who has gotten into dating rumors himself— co-actresses in dramas, you know how it is— he sure doesn't know how to function when it's you that's in the news. he pouts. he whines. he threatens to blow up the headquarters of every single korean gossip site. it will take him a few days to get over it, and even then, he'll narrow his eyes at any mention of your supposed-boyfriend.

soonyoung will try to play up the jealous act. it's a short-lived thing; he's possessive and territorial when it matters, but not over baseless rumors. he finds it easier to jump on your nerves some other ways— like warning you that he may just be snatched away. "can't blame you if you're in love with lee sangyeon," he'll say with a fake, dreamy sigh, just to annoy you. "i think i am now, too."

cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. there's a litany of that in wonwoo's head. an attempt for him to stay sane about these types of things. on the surface, he's nonchalant. at most, he might look a little miffed. but you know him well, and you know that he's the type who will need a lot a little of affirmation because he's always just a little bit on edge at the prospect of losing you. he'll be good as new after an uninterrupted cuddle session.

jihoon's reaction to rumors such as there are relatively predictable. half an eye roll, a sound like a scoff. he's always made it clear, his distaste for gossip-mongers and the like. he keeps everything on the down low— except his feelings for you— so he has no respect for bullshit articles. besides, his heart is in your hands. which is to say: he has full trust that you would let him know if anything about your feelings might change.

seokmin is one bad day away from making good on his threat of breaking your dating news himself. he'll plant information if he has to! he's just a notch below junhui and mingyu when it comes to kicking up a fuss about the rumors. seokmin is easier to appease— a kiss or two here, a couple of sweet words there— but he's also the first to find out any news involving your name. (he'll never tell you, but he has google search notifications toggled for you.)

'a big baby', you call him, and mingyu would rather die than admit you're right. the man talks like the world is ending any time you're remotely linked to someone that's not him. he's the one you'd have to chase after the most. he'll keep his arms crossed over his chest as he grumbles about 'your other men'. he's never been happy about sharing, and he makes it abundantly clear that includes you.

minghao's chief concern, unsurprisingly, will be how you're doing. how have the rumors affected you? do you need anything to get you buy? everything— the boys' comments, his own feelings— fade into background noise as he focuses on your welfare. he's the picture of composure and self-assurance when it comes to your relationship; you've never given him a reason to doubt your loyalty, so why should he?

it's just like seungkwan to go straight to the source— and, no, he's not talking about you. whoever you might be linked to, he's already sliding into their messages to get the 'scoop'. there's a little bit of manipulation here, in how seungkwan will very 'casually' drop that the two of you are actually seeing each other. if this is his roundabout way of staking claim, then so be it.

vernon's nonchalance can be a little bit terrifying sometimes. these are such instances when you're reminded that he's relatively comfortable in your relationship, enough to ask point blank if the rumors are true. this isn't to be mistaken for him being uncaring. there's still a slight twitch in his jaw, a downturn of his lip when some third party is mentioned. at the end of it all, though? he's quick to shrug it off, because the faith he has in you beats out any stupid rumor.

chan has been working overtime to get the two of you in the headlines. he's matched your phone case! he's shared your music on vlive! and yet, he still isn't your supposed boyfriend, according to dispatch? that's what he's the most upset about, really. that his not-so subtle hints have gone largely unnoticed. chan wants to be loud and obvious about his love for you; he's just waiting for the perfect time to drop that bomb.

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)

—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.

They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.

People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 

How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.

Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.

It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.

“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.

Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.

You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”

He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.

When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”

“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”

“So are you the second? The third?”

The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”

He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”

Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.”

You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”

“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”

You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”

“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”

Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.

Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”

“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”

You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 

“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.

You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”

Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”

“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”

He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”

“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”

Did you tell him what you’re studying?

The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.

“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”

He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”

When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.

Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.

‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.

‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.

‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.

The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”

You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.

Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.

The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.

He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”

You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”

As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.

It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”

He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.

It’s whatever. It’s all done now.

You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov

[dante-mightdie]

What would happen if someone tried to rob the shop? Held wifey at gun point and everything 🥺 I can imagine Butcher Simon using his freezer for more than just the meat he sales. At least this one time..

c/w: violence, attempted robbery, weapons, threats of violence

you’d picked a bad day to leave the changing bag in the flat upstairs, you realised as you stand frozen behind the counter. your eyes trained on the knife being pointed at you whilst the shouts to hand over the money ring away in the distance

simon left a couple of minutes ago to run upstairs and grab it for you but right now every second he’s gone feels like an eternity

your eyes flick to the baby monitor under the counter, the fear that this intruder will go into the back and find your two daughters dozing in their carriers in the back office. the thought of this alone strikes you into action, trembling hands rushing to open the till just to get this man away from your and your family as quick as possible

but the man is too focused on yelling at you, calling you names and screaming for you to hurry up that he doesn’t even notice the hulking man who had silently entered the shop behind him. the intruder only turns his back to you when he sees your hands still, eyes flicking up a good few inches behind his head as a shadow begins to loom over him

before the intruder can even react to simon’s presence, he grabs him by his hood and throws him to the ground like he weighs absolutely nothing, the knife clattering too far out of the intruder’s reach

simon plants the changing bag on the counter and turns to look at you, not even fussed about the fucker on the floor who has just now realised he’s a bit too far out of his depth here

“get the girls. go upstairs. now.” he says, a rage behind his eyes but it’s not aimed at you. never aimed at you. it’s a warning for you to let him handle this, that he’s here now so you don’t need to worry about anything other than getting your children home and safe

you nod and grab the bag, no thought of questioning him even crosses your mind. running into the back and leaving simon alone in the shop with the man who dared to threaten his wife

he’s silent as he walks around the shaken man on the floor, closing the blinds to the front of the shop and locking the door with ease. simon then kicks the knife into the corner of the room before looming over the man menacingly

“now, m’gonna get you nice and comfortable in the back and then ‘m gonna go check on my missus.” simon says, grabbing the guys hood and dragging him into the back whilst he kicks and screams to no avail,

“when i’m back, we’re gonna have a little chat about it what I used to do before I owned this shop and then i’m gonna ‘ave to kill ya because can’t have ya running off and telling anyone what i’m gonna do to you.”

there’s no hesitation with simon as he knocks the guy out cold with a punch, not even giving him a chance to respond to the threat before leaving him in the walk-in freezer, a soft whistling tune leaving his lips as he goes upstairs to check on his girls

you don’t question how the police already arrived to take the man away or why simon tells you that he’s keeping the shop closed for a few days to ‘upgrade the security’

[pucksandpower]

Thick Thighs Save Lives

Day 15 → Thigh Riding 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You okay?” Max’s voice cuts through your haze, pulling you back to reality. You blink twice, realizing you’ve been staring — no, more like ogling — at the man standing in front of you.

You cough, trying to play it off. “What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You’re not convincing anyone, least of all yourself.

Max tilts his head, concern flickering in those blue eyes. “You sure?” His Dutch accent is thicker when he’s confused, or worried. Right now, you think it’s both. “You look … distracted.”

Distracted. That’s an understatement. But what are you supposed to say? Sorry, babe, I overheard some fans talking about your thighs, and now I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to-

Nope. Not happening.

Instead, you shake your head too quickly, like that’ll fix the mess in your brain. “Just … hungry, maybe,” you mumble, though you know hunger isn’t exactly what’s going on.

Max gives you a sideways look, one eyebrow raised. “Hungry?” He repeats, not buying it for a second. You can tell by the way his lips twitch into that small, knowing smirk of his.

“Yeah, hungry,” you lie again, pulling at the sleeves of your jacket like it’s suddenly too tight, or too hot, or both. “Long day, y’know?” You hope the vague excuse will get him to drop it. You’re begging the universe for mercy at this point.

But Max isn’t one to let things slide, especially when it comes to you. He steps closer, and now, all you can think about is the fact that the fans weren’t wrong. His thighs really are massive — like, practically sculpted by the gods or something.

You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down for half a second. You catch yourself just in time, but Max catches you too.

“You’re acting weird,” he says, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice now. He’s grinning, and you hate that he’s grinning, because it means he knows something’s up. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you blurt out. Too fast. Way too fast. You force a smile, trying to steer the conversation somewhere — anywhere — else. “I’m just, uh, thinking about … qualifying! Yeah, qualifying. How’s the car?”

Max’s grin softens into something more genuine, like he’s willing to play along for now. “The car’s good. Feels fast. We’ll see.” He shrugs, his eyes still studying you, probably wondering what the hell is actually going on in that head of yours.

“That’s good,” you say, nodding like an idiot. “That’s great. Fast is great.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “What’s really going on? You never look this … distracted.”

You swallow hard, heat rising to your face. Damn it, he’s not going to let this go. Your mind is racing, trying to come up with something, anything, that sounds remotely believable. “I told you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m just hungry.”

“Uh-huh,” Max says, clearly not convinced. He crosses his arms over his chest, which only draws your attention back to his entire … well, everything. You try not to look, but your eyes have a mind of their own.

For a second, you’re sure he’s going to press further, but then someone calls his name from across the paddock. It’s one of the engineers, probably needing him back before qualifying starts. Max looks over his shoulder and gives a nod before turning back to you.

“I gotta go,” he says, still watching you carefully, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that doesn’t make any sense. “But we’re talking about this later.”

You nod, thankful that the conversation is ending before you dig yourself into a deeper hole. “Yeah, sure, later.”

Max looks at you for a second longer, his eyes narrowing in that way he does when he’s thinking, really thinking. Then he gives you a quick smile, one of those small, private ones that’s just for you. “Take care of yourself,” he says, his voice soft but insistent.

“I will,” you reply, managing to sound more normal than you feel. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” he says, turning to walk away, and that’s when it happens.

Your eyes, without your permission, drift downward again. His back is to you now, his long strides taking him toward the garage, and it’s impossible not to notice the way his legs move.

His thighs — God, those thighs — are straining against the fabric of his race suit. It’s like every muscle is defined, every step making them flex in a way that you’re suddenly very, very aware of.

And it’s not just the size. It’s the power behind them, the way you know he’s spent years building that kind of strength, how it’s the kind of thing you only really notice when you’re close to him, or, in your case, when you’ve been thinking about it all day because some fans pointed it out, and now it’s all you can think about.

You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound. Your heart is racing, and your palms are starting to sweat, and all you can focus on is the way his legs look as he moves further away from you.

You should be ashamed of yourself. You are ashamed of yourself. This is ridiculous, and yet …

Max stops halfway to the garage and glances back over his shoulder, probably to check if you’re still watching. You quickly snap your gaze upward, hoping he doesn’t catch you staring again. But it’s too late — there’s that grin on his face, the one that says he knows exactly what’s going on.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, managing a weak smile. “Yeah,” you lie again. “I’m fine.”

Max shakes his head, clearly not buying it, but he doesn’t press any further. He gives you one last look before heading back toward the garage, and as he disappears inside, you let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You’re still staring at the spot where he disappeared, and without even thinking about it, you run your tongue over your bottom lip.

You can’t help it. You’re salivating.

You’re only human, after all, and some temptations are impossible to resist.

***

The hotel room is quiet, except for the sound of the zipper on Max’s backpack as he tosses it aside. It’s late, the race adrenaline slowly wearing off, but you’re both still buzzing with energy. Max is already getting undressed, down to just his Red Bull t-shirt and those jeans that hug his body like a second skin.

You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, hands fumbling with the buttons of your own shirt, your mind somewhere far away. Or maybe not that far. Maybe your mind is right where it’s been for the past thirty-two hours — on him. Specifically, on those damn thighs.

Max turns his back to you for a moment, pulling his shirt over his head, and when he faces you again, you’re frozen, mid-button, staring. His thighs strain against his jeans, the fabric pulled taut around them as he shifts his weight.

You know you should keep undressing, keep moving, but you can’t. All thoughts leave your mind, replaced with the memory of the way they looked under his race suit, the way they flexed as he walked, the way-

“You’re staring again.”

His voice is low, teasing, and it snaps you out of your trance. You blink, cheeks burning, and quickly look away, but it’s too late. Max has already caught you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moves closer.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He’s standing right in front of you now, his eyes searching yours, but he already knows. Of course he does. The way he’s grinning tells you that much. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

You swallow hard, trying to find some way out of this, some excuse, but nothing comes. He’s so close, close enough that you can smell the faint traces of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin, and all you can think about are those jeans, how tight they are around his legs, how-

Max reaches out, gently tipping your chin up so you have to meet his gaze. “You can tell me,” he says, his voice soft now, almost coaxing. “What’s got you all flustered, hmm?”

You can’t look away. He’s too close, too knowing, and suddenly, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. What are you supposed to say? That his thighs are all you’ve been able to think about? That the way they look in his jeans is driving you crazy?

Max’s eyes flicker down, and you know he’s noticed where your gaze keeps drifting. His smirk deepens, and when he speaks again, his voice has dropped, taking on a huskier tone. “Ah. I see.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He knows. Of course he knows. You feel your heart start to race, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too hot.

Max steps even closer, his hand sliding from your chin to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He murmurs, his eyes dark and intent, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “I would’ve taken care of you sooner.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep some semblance of composure, but it’s no use. Max is looking at you like he knows exactly what you need, and worse — he’s right. He moves his hand to the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed, and you follow, unable to resist.

When you reach the edge of the bed, Max sits, his legs spread slightly apart, and you’re left standing there, feeling like the world’s worst combination of flustered and exposed. He’s still in his jeans, the denim pulled tight over his thighs, and your eyes are immediately drawn to them again. You don’t even try to hide it this time.

Max chuckles, low and deep. “Come here,” he says, his voice a command wrapped in a velvet whisper.

Your feet move before your brain can catch up. You step between his legs, heart pounding in your chest, and Max’s hands find your hips, pulling you down until you’re straddling his thigh. The moment you make contact, your breath hitches, your body reacting to the firm pressure beneath you.

“See?” Max murmurs, his hands sliding up to your waist, his touch gentle but insistent. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You can’t answer, can’t find the words. All you can do is nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as you shift on his thigh. The friction is immediate, electric, sending a shockwave through your body. You gasp, and Max’s grip tightens.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands guide your hips, slow at first, drawing out the movement, letting you feel every inch of him beneath you. The rough fabric of his jeans rubs against you, the friction unlike anything you’ve felt before. It’s overwhelming, almost too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you want, what you need.

Max watches you, his eyes dark and hungry as you move against him, your breaths coming faster, more ragged. He knows what he’s doing, knows exactly how to drive you crazy, and he’s taking his time, savoring every second of it.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. At my legs. You couldn’t stop, could you?”

You shake your head, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. The heat between your legs is building, and every time you shift, every time you drag yourself over the firm muscle of his thigh, it sends a pulse of pleasure through you.

Max grins, his hands tightening on your waist, guiding you faster now, urging you on. “I knew it,” he says, his voice low and full of satisfaction. “You just needed this. You needed me.”

You moan softly, your head falling forward against his shoulder as the pressure builds, your body practically trembling from the intensity of it. Max’s grip on you never wavers, his hands controlling the rhythm, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You can’t hold back anymore. The tension in your body snaps, and you cry out softly, your hips bucking against his thigh as the pleasure overtakes you. Max holds you steady, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you as wave after wave of sensation crashes over you.

When it’s over, you’re left breathless, slumped against him, your body trembling in the aftermath. Max’s hands slide up and down your back, soothing, gentle, as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of warmth. “You did so well.”

You don’t have the energy to respond, your head still spinning from the intensity of it all. But then, as the haze begins to clear, you feel something — wetness — on the denim covering his thigh. You pull back slightly, your face flushing with embarrassment as you realize what you’ve done.

Max just chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice full of mischief. “I don’t mind.”

You bury your face in his chest, mortified, but Max’s arms come around you, holding you close, his laugh rumbling through his body.

“I told you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your hair. “I know exactly what you need.”

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the hotel suite. You stir in bed, slowly coming to consciousness, a vague sense of discomfort pulling you from sleep.

For a moment, you’re content to stay buried under the sheets, your body heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction from the night before. But then the feeling sharpens — a tenderness, right between your legs. You shift, and the soreness becomes more pronounced.

Your eyes snap open. Oh.

The friction from last night, the way you rode Max’s thigh with reckless abandon, comes back to you in vivid, heated flashes. You groan, face half-buried in the pillow, not from embarrassment this time but from the distinct ache you feel in your most sensitive spot. Your poor bundle of nerves, now sore, throbs slightly when you shift your legs.

You turn your head to glance at Max. He’s already awake, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone, his hair still a mess from sleep. He looks over at you when he notices you stirring, his mouth curling into a soft smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep. You shift under the covers again, wincing as the soreness flares once more. You press your legs together instinctively, hoping it will somehow dull the ache.

Max’s brow furrows. “You alright?”

You pause for a second, debating how much you actually want to admit. But the soreness isn’t something you can brush off, not when every slight movement reminds you of it. You let out a small sigh and tilt your head to look at him.

“I’m … sore,” you admit, biting your lip. “Really sore.”

Max’s lips twitch, a hint of amusement lighting his eyes. “Sore where?”

You give him a look, half-exasperated, half-embarrassed. “You know where,” you grumble.

He chuckles softly, setting his phone down on the nightstand. “I might need a little more detail. I’m a driver, not a mind reader.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it’s mixed with a groan as you shift your hips again. “You know,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes. “There.”

Max raises an eyebrow, still amused, but then his expression softens with concern. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly, wanting to reassure him. “It’s not that. I guess I just … overdid it. Denim can be rough.”

Max nods, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Wait here,” he says, sliding out of bed with the ease of someone who’s used to early mornings and late nights in uncomfortable places. You watch as he rummages through his luggage on the floor, tossing aside various items before pulling out a small tube of ointment.

“What’s that?” You ask, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Max returns to the bed, sitting on the edge. “This? It’s some kind of cream I used for a cut I had a while back.” He holds up the tube for you to see, the words on it clearly medicinal. “I think it might help.”

You hesitate, unsure. The idea of Max applying anything down there is both intimate and a little embarrassing. But the soreness is getting worse, and the thought of relief is too tempting to ignore.

“You trust me?” Max asks softly, his eyes locking with yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I do.”

Max smiles at that, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before squeezing a small amount of the ointment onto his fingers. “Let’s take care of you, then.”

You shift slightly on the bed, opening your legs a little to give him room. Your breath hitches as he moves closer, his touch gentle and careful. His hand slips beneath the covers, fingers finding the tender spot with a sensitivity that makes you melt.

“You sure this is okay?” He murmurs, his gaze flicking to yours for reassurance.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, though the feel of his fingers, even in this innocent context, has your pulse racing.

Max is slow, deliberate, applying the ointment with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His touch is cool at first, but then the warmth from his skin mixes with the soothing sensation of the ointment, and your body starts to relax. The ache begins to ebb away, replaced by a gentle, comforting warmth.

“Better?” He asks after a few moments, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You can only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as the tension leaves your body. But it’s not just the relief from the soreness that’s making you feel this way. It’s the way Max is touching you — careful, considerate, and yet undeniably intimate. You hadn’t expected something as simple as this to feel so … intense.

Max’s fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, though his voice is huskier now, like he knows stopping isn’t something you’re going to ask for.

Your breath catches in your throat as he presses a little more firmly, the friction now bordering on something else entirely. The tenderness is still there, but now, so is something deeper, something stirring inside you that you can’t ignore.

“Max …” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

He doesn’t respond with words, just a small smile as his thumb grazes over your clit, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. He’s not trying to push you, not really, but his touch is becoming more deliberate, more focused.

And you’re unraveling.

The gentle pressure of his fingers, the slow circles he’s tracing, the way he’s watching you so intently — it’s all too much, and yet not enough at the same time. You shift your hips, instinctively seeking more, and Max’s eyes darken as he registers your need.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the same spot again, drawing another gasp from you. “Does it feel good?”

You nod, unable to find the words. Your body is responding without permission, a slow burn building in your core, the ache from earlier completely forgotten now. It’s been replaced by something else — something hot and electric, coursing through you with every touch.

Max leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

You can barely think straight, let alone articulate what you need, but you manage a breathless, “More.”

His fingers move with more purpose now, pressing harder, rubbing in just the right way that makes your body arch toward him, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is almost overwhelming, the pleasure mixing with the relief, and you feel like you’re coming undone in his hands.

Max watches you, his eyes dark and intense, clearly enjoying the way you’re responding to him. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “Just let go.”

And you do. You let go of the last bit of restraint you’ve been holding onto, your body trembling as the tension builds higher and higher. Max’s hand never falters, his touch steady, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re breathing faster now, your heart racing in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your body like wildfire. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you need it, need him.

“Max,” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as the pleasure surges through you. “I’m-”

“I know,” he whispers, his thumb pressing down just right, and it’s all it takes to send you spiraling.

Your body clenches, the release crashing over you in waves as you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand. Max holds you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left trembling, your body spent and your mind blissfully blank.

When it’s over, you collapse against the pillows, panting, your heart still pounding in your chest. Max pulls his hand away, careful and gentle, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, his voice full of warmth and affection.

You manage a weak smile, still catching your breath. “Better. Much better.”

[starmapz]

love & company - r. sukuna

❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]

❦ oneshot

❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞

❦ cw ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. friends to lovers. fluff. hurt/comfort. p in v. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). degradation (slut). choking. pet names (princess, brat, woman, girl). size kink. rough sex. unprotected. biting. hair pulling. manhandling. toxic relationship (not sukuna). manipulation (not sukuna). reckless driving. use of alcohol and cigarettes. reader is implied to be short/small mostly in comparison to sukuna but he's huge so. ooc warning for sukuna given that this is modern and i want him to be more realistically human. i probably got some of the bike information wrong.

❦ words ; 24.2k.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

A cool evening wind chills your skin as you hunch over your bike on the side of the road. You’re thankful for your thick leather jacket to protect you from the brisk winds, but it doesn’t make it easy to work when your thoughts continue to stray to the fast-approaching night.

Your Kawasaki motorcycle puttered to a stop an hour ago and you’ve been on the side of the road ever since. Of course it would happen today of all days, where your patience runs thin and you want nothing more than to be curled up in bed.

Your small array of tools that you keep for times like these are finally proving useful, but you can hardly bring yourself to care as you run out of things to check. You’re almost certain the issue is a clogged fuel line at this point but without the necessary tools to check, you’re fresh out of ideas on what to do aside from calling a tow truck.

The sound of another passing motorbike is grating on your ears as someone speeds by on a bright red Ducati and you want to curse them out just for having a working bike, but to your surprise, they circle back a minute later and pull up next to you.

A broad-shouldered figure steps off the bike, pulling a dark helmet off and giving his head a shake, running a hand through his pink hair to give it a naturally windswept look. Tattoos line his sharp jaw and scars litter his right eye. Deep near-crimson eyes lock on you, a mildly cold expression spread over the tall man’s features. He’s just about the textbook definition of what you would think of as a ‘bad boy’.

He looks you over before taking in the state of your bike. The sight of you covered in grease and oil sitting in defeat on the ground is amusing to him to say the least- you don’t much look the part of a biker between your small figure and approachable stature but one look at your bike and attire tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

“Need a hand?”

Unfortunately for the tattooed man, he’s caught you in a bad mood.

“No,” you grumble, picking up your wrench and dipping back into a rhythm of checking everything.

“I’ve got more tools than just a wrench,” he offers. Your intense gaze looks him over again, surveying the black leather hanging off his shoulders and red helmet that matches his bike tucked under his elbow.

“I can handle myself,” you insist, not keen on accepting a stranger’s help, especially given his cold expression.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he retorts with a click of his tongue. “Just askin’ if you want a spanner or pliers.” His eyes flicker to the moon rising in the sky. “Or a flashlight.”

You follow his gaze out to the rising moon, its light not offering enough of a look at your bike to be all that helpful as night begins to fall.

You sigh, wiping perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. The man’s lips quirk upwards in a minute smirk at the sight of the grease you accidentally wipe on your head. He thinks it’s cute.

“A spanner would be helpful,” you give in, pulling a pair of pliers from where you’d set them down beneath your knee to show you did at least have a couple of tools handy.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, the tall man turns to the backpack he’d set on the ground behind him. He sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulls out a spanner, handing it to you in place of the torque wrench you’ve set at your side.

He’s silent as you thank him and begin adjusting the spanner’s size to detach the fuel line. Standing in silence, he does little more than watch given that you don’t seem to want his help.

When the fuel line finally detaches, you groan as you realize you’d been right about the problem the entire time and the line is blocked. Without an air compressor, there isn’t much you can do to get your bike running again and your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Now d’you need a hand?” He asks with a raised brow and a small smirk.

The look you shoot him is fiery and he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t think your attitude is cute. It suits the strange vibes he gets from you in the best of ways.

“I’ll just call for a tow,” you insist, still refusing the help of the stranger you know nothing about, aside from the fact that he has just about the most high-end street legal sports bike in pristine condition and you find it to be pretentious.

“Suit yourself. I can fix it for free, though.”

You press your lips into a thin line, brow furrowed as you look over his features. The man practically towers over you, he’s built like a tank and dwarfs you in every sense. His expression is aloof, giving away very little about him. You have no reason to believe he’s lying though, so with a sigh, you give in and hand him the spanner he’d lent you.

The man lowers himself beside you, disconnecting the other side of the fuel line entirely as he begins pulling apart the carburetor. You sit back, watching your bike attentively as though he might do damage to it, but his fingers move deftly as if this is all muscle memory to him.

“What’s your name?” You ask as the silence stretches on. It’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, as he grabs a rag and water bottle from his backpack. He glances at you as he wets the rag and begins cleaning the carburetor.

“Sukuna.”

“You know your way around a bike.”

“Been riding for a while.”

You nod. Despite his kind actions, his words are distant and frigid, so you decide not to push the subject.

It’s silent for a while as you sit with your hands splayed on the asphalt behind you, watching his actions. Your eyes survey the man hunched over your bike, admiring the smooth lines of the tattoos that line his jaw, more ink just barely visible along his neck from beneath his jacket. His hair looks freshly dyed and his right eye is dotted in long scars that have you wondering what happened.

If the situation were any different, you might be hesitant to accept his help, but in truth you’re too tired to complain.

It’s not much longer before your bike is back together. Wiping his hands with the rag, he nods to the bike.

“Give ‘er.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn the key. The engine flips once, twice, three times, before finally sputtering to life.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you sigh in relief, shaking your head. “I thought the issue was the fuel line,” you groan over the sound of the engine.

“It is. You need to replace it, this should get you a few miles away though.”

You nod affirmatively, reaching down to hand back his tools. Sukuna dumps them in his bag and throws it over his shoulder.

“You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you,” you tell him, your mood no longer sour as your bike continues to roar, thankfully not dead on the side of the road anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He simply shrugs.

“Let me buy you a drink, or something,” you insist in spite of your exhaustion, though his cold demeanor doesn’t give you much hope that he’ll accept anyway, so you figure you’ll be able to get some rest regardless of the offer.

As he turns to grab his helmet, you half expect him to start his bike and drive off without another word, ignoring your offer entirely. It’s just the impression he gives you, but he surprises you.

“Keep up, then.”

Your brow raises and before you have a chance to complain that you’re covered in a layer of sweat and grease and you’d meant at a later date, his bike is roaring to life.

You scramble onto your own bike and follow him closely. Sukuna is half-shocked when you actually pull up into the parking lot of a small bar right behind him, pulling your helmet off and shaking your head in an effort to fix your hair.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find everything about you intriguing. From your bike to the way you ride and your feisty disposition all packaged in such a tiny figure compared to him, he thinks it’s cute. Maybe even something more than that.

He leads the way to the bar wordlessly as you complain about the grease coating your body, but he barely notices the oil marking your skin. He’s used to it, if anything, from working on his own bike.

You aren’t even sure if he’s listening given his flippant attitude and lack of response, but you drone on regardless. It’s better than silence.

Choosing to ignore your frustrated rambles, he orders a whiskey and glances in your direction.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile, waving your hand in the air like you don’t much mind what exactly you’re drinking. It’s your turn to surprise Sukuna.

“Don’t think I caught your name,” Sukuna says as you lean over the bar beside him.

You tell him your name with a sweet smile, your mood clearly improved as you take the whiskey and damn-near down it in one swift movement.

When your eyes land on Sukuna again, he’s smirking. He’s not really sure what to make of you nor you of him, but he certainly likes it.

Though you both elect not to have any more alcohol in favor of driving home later, conversation comes easily for the rest of the hour. At least, as easily as it comes for Sukuna.

“Where’d you get your bike?” You ask decidedly, trying to make conversation with the stoic individual.

“A shop up north.”

“Looks like it cost a pretty penny.”

He hums in approval.

That’s about how most conversations with him go, so when you throw your jacket on and insist you should get home, you’re admittedly surprised when he pauses and holds his hand out expectantly.

You stare up at him curiously. Not once had you gotten the impression he was interested in any of your conversations, yet now he wants something from you? You can’t decide what to make of this, what to make of him.

“Sorry, um,” you stare down in confusion at his expectant hand, mouth opening and closing as you try to decide what to say.

“Your phone,” he instructs and your pretty eyes widen as you stare up at him, the difference in stature between you both now incredibly apparent as he dwarfs you when standing over you.

“Oh!” You stare at him with pursed lips and pull your phone out, opening it to your texts. He sends himself a text and hands your phone back wordlessly, before turning his shoulder as he walks out abruptly, leaving you further confused.

Chasing after him, you just barely catch him as he kicks his bike’s stand up and throws his helmet on.

“Thanks again!” You call after him. He glances over his shoulder and though you can’t see his expression behind the dark visor of his helmet, he smirks back at you before driving off.

As you just barely make it back home on your sputtering bike, you manage to replace the fuel line and shoot him a text.

11:53 PM You || fixed the fuel line. thanks again, youre a lifesaver

11:55 PM Sukuna || thanks for the drink.

In all honesty, you figure that’s the last you’ll ever hear from him, but you quickly find out that the cold disposition he gives off isn’t really all there is to him when he asks if you want to go to a bike show a week later.

He fails to mention that his youngest brother Yuji would be joining you for the show, but as you walk the show floor with him and his younger sibling, you realize his brother likely just got all the conversation genes.

Sukuna is still aloof, he doesn't say much to you outside of comments about the bikes and even though he’s the one that invited you, you still can't tell if he enjoys your company. Although he’s quiet, his presence is surprisingly alluring and you're grateful to have someone to listen to your ramblings, even if he doesn't seem interested.

As you walk the length of the convention hall, weaving between crowds of people that seem to part at Sukuna’s menacing figure, Sukuna pauses to look at gorgeous black Yamaha. You barely catch the way he silently stops, managing to point out the pause to Yuji just in time to keep you all from getting separated.

“Don’t think I’ve heard him talk this much in ages,” Yuji comments with a raised brow. You tilt your head towards him, following his gaze to Sukuna.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” the younger man scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have my license yet but I like lookin’ around. He’s usually pretty snippy about which bikes I should be looking at,” he shrugs. “You guys must have a lot in common for him to be so chatty.”

Chatty, you practically scoff to yourself. The man barely said ten sentences to you.

You do notice the way he shoots Yuji a glare or groans about his chatting on occasion, though. Not once does he direct that at you.

Even still, you don't expect him to keep inviting you out. Ten sentences isn’t exactly something to form a friendship on.

Continuing to surprise you, you still hear from him. Next thing you know, you’re invited to ride with him and his brother Choso, invited out to dinner with a group of his friends and he even accepts your invite to see a horror movie with a couple of your friends.

You’re quick to learn that Sukuna is just like that.

Sukuna’s mild and somewhat haughty disposition is something you grow accustomed to as you learn how to talk to him. Though you find yourself talking mostly at him, you realize that’s just how he likes things. He pays a surprising amount of attention to your words, though you don’t tend to notice until he shows it through actions later.

He shows up to your work with takeout on his lunch break when you mention you forgot your lunch. He goes shopping with you despite his distaste for malls when you tell him you need some new clothes. He’s more agreeable when you’re around and his friends are quick to point it out, insisting you need to be there at all times to make him more tolerable, though they’re mostly joking.

He does treat you differently from the rest of his friends. You figure it’s just because your friendship is new, though.

After being invited along on a ride down the highway to a neighboring small town with Sukuna’s friend Uraume and his brother Choso, you eye up Sukuna’s plate. You’d ordered no side with your meal but god his fries look good. You shoot him a curious glance, met with his typical aloof expression, if not one of mild irritation. Glancing again at his fries, you reach over to steal one, pleased when you pop it in your mouth.

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, muttering under his breath about you ‘being a brat’ and how ‘you should have ordered a side’, but it’s all a show as he lets you steal another one when you smile sweetly at him.

When Choso follows your act, wanting to try the fries as well, Sukuna swats his hand away with a hiss. “My plate isn’t a buffet,” he growls contemptibly. Choso wrinkles his nose, shaking his hand of the harsh slap.

When Sukuna gets up to use the washroom, Choso waits until he’s out of earshot to comment.

“How the hell did you get away with getting some of that asshole’s fries?”

You shrug. “Dunno. He just let me.”

“Grumpy bastard…”

Again, you insist you just don’t know him well and he’s being kind so the action is brushed off.

A week later, Sukuna insists you tag along with his buddy Toji to get drinks, but when you arrive at the meeting spot and pull your helmet off, Sukuna is haughtily arguing with the raven-haired man.

“C’mon, it’s cheap. Their food’s fine.” Toji insists with little more than a raised eyebrow and an unamused sigh.

“What food?” You ask with a smile as you saunter over to the two much taller men.

“Red’s,” Toji responds gruffly, his unamused expression turning to one of intrigue as he realizes you must be Sukuna’s friend. “You must be y/n.”

You grin at him as he smirks.

“Toji,” he introduces himself. “Now can ya tell this asshole that Red’s is cheap?”

Sukuna’s arms are crossed over his chest. “We can do better for cheap.” He all but hisses, his eyes fixed in the distance.

“I’ve never been,” you glance between the two with pursed lips, mentally chuckling to yourself at how much you have to look up to both men. “I think it sounds good.”

Sukuna’s arms fall to his side as his fiery eyes lock on you. He pauses for a moment, sparing a glance at Toji, but those deep eyes return to you with a begrudging sigh as he grumbles something under his breath.

“Fine.”

Toji’s eyes widen as he dangles his keys from his hands, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he fists the keys as he gets ready to get in his car and head to the bar. He pauses before opening the door, a shit-eating grin spread over his scarred lips.

“Think I need ya to tag along more often, y/n.” He catches the tilt of your head and chuckles. “Think ya tame this shithead a bit.”

Sukuna roars something at Toji as he tries to catch him before the door slams and the car speeds off, leaving you giggling at the interaction.

Toji’s not the last to point it out, either.

You don’t think much of it, though. Sukuna just shows he cares through his actions and that’s how you come to know him as your best friend.

Sukuna is, of course, smitten with you. He adores how perfectly you seem to understand him. He loves the way you invite him along to everything with your friends despite his tendencies to scare others off. He loves that in spite of the trouble he gets himself into, your opinion of him never changes. He loves that you text him about stupid things, and that even when his response is inhospitable, you continue to text him like you would any other friend.

Because you’re his best friend. And he won’t admit it to anyone, but you know. He knows you know.

You get him. 

So of course when you excitedly text him about your date, you have no way of knowing that his naturally cold responses are no longer his usual tone. They’re frigid, maybe even mildly snarky, but over text you don’t see the way his brow is knit tightly in contempt.

When he meets your boyfriend for the first time, you notice the strange tension between your best friend and partner. Your boyfriend brings it up but you had warned him in advance that Sukuna comes across that way, so you brush it off as little more than Sukuna being himself.

Yet, you notice the little things. You’ve known Sukuna for a long time now. You notice the way his jaw tightens when he sees your boyfriend lean down to kiss you at a dinner for your birthday a year into your relationship. You tilt your head questioningly at him from across the table, a silent query, but he doesn’t give you a response, that mild expression never once leaving his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

“Kuna?” Your sweet voice pulls his attention down to you when you pull him aside as everyone is saying goodnight outside the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

You cock your brow at his flippant response, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “I know you well enough to know you’re lying,” you insist with an expectant look.

God, that look makes his hardened expression falter. Sukuna is well aware that he’s unapproachable, scary even. His form is built and he towers over most everyone, not to mention his constant disinterested expression and the tattoos he sports.

You often tease him for his ‘resting bitch face’.

Yet here you are, hand on your hip, so small and sweet, a fire lit behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Cute.

“It’s just been a long day, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He knows you don’t believe him, but it’s the best you’re getting and you know that as well as he does. Hurt flashes through your eyes and he does feel a pang of guilt, but he keeps it locked away as he sighs and pulls something from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Your wide eyes look up at him in shock. You’d insisted no one should get you a gift, but when you texted him this morning and told him your boyfriend, so cheerily talking to your friends behind the two of you, had forgotten your birthday, he couldn’t leave you empty-handed in that way.

You gingerly reach out and take the box from him. You know what it is instantly and the way your cheeks redden, the way it shocks you to silence has him smirking, mostly to himself. His hands remain in his pockets, his unamused expression locked on your hands that hesitate as you slowly open the velveteen box.

Lying so beautifully strewn in the box is a necklace you pointed out to him when you’d gone shopping together what must have been years ago now. A gorgeous silver chain lays delicately holding a dainty bejeweled star with your birthstone in the center. Of course he’d been paying attention. He always does.

“You didn’t,” it’s all you can manage as you stare at it in disbelief. To your surprise, Sukuna is smiling softly down at you, a rare sight that you want to burn into your retinas.

“You deserve a good birthday.”

You know it’s a dig at your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that should be a sign, but you’re too caught up in the moment as tears brim your eyes.

“This was so expensive though, I- I- can’t-”

“You can and you will.”

You know when Sukuna demands something, he means it. This is one of those times.

Tears threatening to spill, you wrap your arms tightly around his toned middle. If he weren’t a giant in comparison to you, you might have bowled him over with the force you hug him with.

Sukuna relishes in the moment, memorizing the feeling of your body in his arms, the way you bury your head into his chest, hiding your tears in his hug as they inevitably stain his white V-neck, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap tightly around you, one of the rare times he returns one of your affections.

When you part from him, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, Sukuna takes the box from you, moving to put the necklace on with ease. He moves like every action he takes is practiced as he confidently clasps the necklace around your neck.

“It’s beautiful,” you hum as you look down at it, running a delicate finger over the pendant.

The salmon-haired man hums mildly. “‘Course. You chose it.”

You examine his eyes, your expression unreadable as you contemplate Sukuna’s actions.

He may be agreeable around you, he may be willing to make compromises with you that he won’t for others, but this is new for him. This is sweet, and he knows you’re thinking such a thing too when he meets those pretty eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t care anymore, though.

He wants you to be happy.

When your boyfriend confronts you about the necklace later that night, you tell him the truth. Maybe you hope he’ll realize he fucked up. Maybe you hope he’ll right his wrongs.

Instead, you end up in an argument as your boyfriend insists that his mistake in forgetting the date was honest but that Sukuna overstepped boundaries.

Maybe your best friend did, in truth.

And so as your boyfriend snaps when you defend your best friend and the argument takes a turn for the worse, maybe it shouldn’t be that same best friend that you turn to. Maybe that will just make things worse.

But the phone only rings twice before he picks up.

He sounds tired, his voice coated in sluggish exhaustion as he mumbles a ‘hello’ on the other line. You hear the rustling of sheets on the other end, a pang of guilt clawing at your throat as you know you’ve woken him up.

“Kuna?” The tone of your voice is foreign to him. Meek, strained. Even earlier in the night when you had confronted him about his cold disposition, your tone still held that unwavering strength and fire that he loves about you, so this wakes him up.

Leaning up on his elbow in bed, he squints at his phone.

“It’s three in the morning, y/n.”

“I know.” You pause and Sukuna waits for you to explain. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s listening. “We got into a fight.”

Sukuna sighs, full of disdain, though not towards you. Never towards you.

“You safe?” His voice is surprisingly soft, though you chalk it up to him being tired.

You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “... yeah.”

He hears you sniffle on the other end of the line and has to physically resist the urge to say things he’ll regret about your boyfriend. “Right. ‘M on my way. Stay put.”

He hangs up, wasting no time in throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black V-neck. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, although it doesn’t do him any favors and he isn’t about to waste time styling it. As it stands, you’ve seen him in a worse state after some particularly wild nights that had ended with one of you on the other’s couch.

His bike roars to life outside his apartment and he’s off into the cold night air, barely grazing his skin as his leather jacket and helmet protect him from the bite. He pushes the limits of his bike and of the road as he speeds past any cars he comes across on the short drive to your house, and he’s glad he did when he spots you on your front doorstep, head in your hands in little more than pajama shorts and a tank top.

He’s off his bike in an instant, shaking his head as he takes his helmet off in an effort to fix his hair before he kneels in front of you.

You’re relieved at the sight of him, clearly fresh out of bed and having hurried right over. Your knight in shining armor. Or at least a shiny red helmet.

His brow furrows as he looks you over, spotting the goosebumps that litter your bare legs and arms. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs his leather jacket off, wrapping it around you. It engulfs your figure almost entirely, draping over you like a dress. If the situation was any different he would think it’s adorable.

You look up at him between long, wet lashes, fresh tears streaking down your makeup-stained cheeks. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and you’re sure your exhaustion and defeat are written across your face in bright bold lettering by the way he frowns.

“Did he kick you out?”

“It’s a long story,” you mutter, just barely audible.

“I got time.”

There’s a note of contempt that floats between his words and you know just as well as he does that he’s resisting the urge to beat down your door and knock some sense into your boyfriend.

Your mouth opens then closes enough times that Sukuna grows impatient, muscles in his jaw clenching as he grows closer and closer to busting down your door when you finally find words.

“We’ve been fighting on and off since we got home,” you admit. Sukuna raises a brow. That was four hours ago. “He was pissed about- about-” you stammer over your words, biting your lip as you fiddle with the necklace that sits beautifully around your neck. Beautiful like you.

“Me,” Sukuna dryly finishes your sentence.

You frown and he knows he’s right. Of course. Maybe the necklace was overstepping this time, but he’d watched your shitty boyfriend step on you more times than he could count and hadn’t once said a word. He respected you and your fiery demeanor entirely too much to ever want to see you upset.

Yet no matter what path he chose, it seemed you would be upset regardless.

“He took my phone and went through everything,” you clear your throat as your voice cracks mid-sentence, staring down at the phone in your hands. The screen is cracked and Sukuna isn’t sure if he wants to know whether it was shattered before today or not.

Your words set him ablaze in anger. It burns like an itch on his skin and it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to hold himself back and just listen. The contrasting cold air is nice on his skin, soothing what little fury it's able to with its brisk touch.

“Do you remember that photo we took together on Halloween?”

Sukuna nods slowly. He knows exactly where this is going. It was well over a year ago, before you’d started dating your boyfriend, when you had convinced Sukuna to dress as a king and you his queen. He’d had a surprising amount of fun with it and with enough alcohol flowing through his veins, his words had grown more frivolous. He’d spent all night calling you his queen or his princess, pretty much until the moment he’d thrown up, the words ejecting from his dialect along with the alcohol. Regardless, the proof was in the texts between you from that night.

At some point in the night, you’d gotten a photo taken clinging to his shoulders, a calm smile on Sukuna’s lips as he’d carried you with ease. It made him smirk the following morning recalling the memory, glad it hadn’t disappeared with the words or alcohol.

Regardless, he’d missed his chance to shoot his shot, growing too accustomed to having you around to consider you didn’t see his change in attitude around you as anything more than friendly, so he’d retreated to his usual detached self.

Clearly that detachment wasn’t enough for your boyfriend as you flip him your phone screen. So it is newly broken.

God give Sukuna the strength to sit still.

“And you’re outside now, why?”

“I felt sick, I needed air.” You shrug, fiddling with your phone in your lap. “He got mad that I walked away and we ended up fighting again, then he slammed the door in my face.”

“He kicked you out,” Sukuna states matter of factly, venom dripping from each and every word.

“He locked me out,” you shrug again, but Sukuna doesn’t care for the details. You have no keys, not to your bike or your house, no jacket, you’re in shorts and a tank top… jesus.

“What a fucking prick.” With that, he’s on his feet and you know he’s about to slam his fist on your door. Or through it. Sukuna may be kind with you but the bad boy persona he sports isn’t a persona at all- Sukuna would not hesitate to knock your boyfriend clean out. He’d been to jail before, one more time wasn’t a big deal if it meant keeping you safe.

“Kuna.” He pauses at the plain tone you say his name in. It’s not a warning, it’s not scolding. He doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not now.”

He huffs and clicks his tongue. His jaw clenches as his shrunken, furious pupils stare down at you, but when he notices your legs are shaking from the cold, he relents.

“Fine.” The word is grumbled as his hands reach for your waist and lift you to your feet with little more than a hum when you’re standing at your full height, barely reaching his broad shoulders. He leaves a hand on the small of your back, setting his helmet over your head and zipping his jacket up over your small frame in an effort to keep you safe when you climb onto the back of his bike.

Sukuna glances back at you as you cling to his toned abdomen, his bike pulling away quickly. Riding with Sukuna is familiar. Though you normally follow him, his quick riding pace and not-entirely-legal maneuvers don’t scare you the way they once did, because everything Sukuna does feels practiced, rehearsed.

Pulling into his apartment building, he pulls the bike into a parking spot and lets you hand him the helmet as you follow him up to his apartment.

It’s a bit of a mess, dishes sit in the sink, empty bottles and cans littering the counter and a garbage bag sits at the door, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re safe and it’s not like he’d let you take the couch anyway given the current situation.

Sukuna moves to at least tidy the couch, fully expecting you to make yourself at home like you always do, but when he turns to see you’re staring at the ground in the entrance, his jacket wrapped around you like a blanket, he frowns. That’s not like you.

In fact, in all the years you two have known one another, Sukuna’s never seen you so spaced out.

“Did he hurt you?”

It’s his best guess as to why you’re so out of it, but when you shake your head, he’s simply at a loss.

Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. He’ll watch your favorite movies with you and make you food, but he doesn’t do words of comfort. He’s a man of action, and although the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on is standing in his apartment, he doesn’t dare to act on the stray thoughts running through his mind, even though he knows you deserve to be treated right.

Coming to stand in front of you, he sighs.

“Whaddya want me to do?”

Anyone else would assume he’s irritated with your presence, but you know it’s a genuine question. Your friend doesn’t know what you need and he’s trying his best to figure it out. He’s trying to help.

“Can I have a blanket?” You ask him, shoulders hunched in exhaustion.

There’s silence in the apartment as Sukuna moves to his bedroom to grab a blanket.

“The red one please!” You call after him as though that isn’t the one he’s already grabbing. He knows your favorite.

Returning to you, he drops the red blanket in your arms, his heart twisting as you pull his jacket off and hand it to him in exchange.

“Can I, um, come in?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow questioningly, subconsciously fiddling with the tongue piercing in his mouth. Not once have you ever asked him to come in. You always, always, made yourself at home, even though it was much to his dismay the first few times you’d let yourself into his apartment in spite of his grumbles and irritated huffs.

Sukuna’s reaction is all the permission you need as you realize he must find the whole situation strange, but everything feels foreign to you. It’s not like you haven’t stayed at Sukuna’s before, it’s not like the couch isn’t your second bed, it’s that you feel like you’re betraying your boyfriend by being here.

Not that Sukuna would do anything anyway, you know he doesn’t see you in such a way. You may be his closest friend but he’s never once shown any sort of other interest towards you. Even if he did see you that way, he’s just not that kind of person.

Still, you gingerly sit at the edge of the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself in the massive blanket. Sukuna moves to sit beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you want to do, if you want to talk.

But you don’t answer, and Sukuna is at a loss of what to do. A contemplative silence settles over you as he leans his head back against the couch, eyeing you and hoping you’ll say something.

“Can I ask you something, Ryo?”

The use of the nickname he lets only you call him quirks his brow as he realizes you’re serious.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

That’s… not what the gruff man was expecting to hear.

His jaw tightens as his piercing eyes stare down at you. He rubs a hand over his face as he tries to make sense of the question, too tired to be thinking this deeply over something. He stares at you pensively as though the world rests on this one response.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Your eyes fall to your knees and the way Sukuna’s head tilts, you’re sure he thinks he’s made a mistake.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

“The fuck did that prick say to you that has ya askin’?”

You hesitate, avoiding his discerning eyes as Sukuna’s chest surges with anger. Your best friend’s fist clenches in his lap as he leans forward, examining your expression.

“What the fuck did he say?” Sukuna’s voice is monstrous, but you could never fear his anger knowing he’s never once directed it your way. You know he’s irritated you haven’t answered yet, but even between his irritation and the gruff tone he uses, he could never scare you.

“He told me I couldn’t do better than him.”

“And?” Sukuna pushes demandingly, his fingers clasping the back of his couch so hard you wonder if he has the strength to crush it.

“That he’s way out of my league and should have chosen…” you trail off, not oblivious to the way Sukuna quirks a brow for you to continue. When you meekly whisper your friend’s name, Sukuna’s seething.

Fury practically drifts from his body like smoke and to your surprise you do hear the couch creak beneath his hand.

You’ve only ever seen Sukuna this angry once before.

Sukuna’s closest friend aside from you, Uraume, often accompanied you on your trips to the bar with Sukuna and would join in on your rides with their own bike. The two of them were two peas in a pod, similar in all the ways you weren’t, but if anything it made you closer to Uraume for having an understanding of Sukuna.

For that exact reason, you’d spotted Uraume’s discomfort a mile away when someone began hitting on them. Uraume could handle themself, so you didn’t think much of it until the man’s hand was tightly gripping Uraume’s arm.

Alarmed, you pointed out Uraume’s discomfort to your drunk best friend and he didn’t hesitate to clock the man hitting on them.

So when Sukuna is on his feet with a familiar rage brewing and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, you know you have to calm him down before you’re bailing him out of jail again. It’s not something you want to make a habit of.

“Kuna, it’s okay.”

“No!” He hisses, swinging his hand through the air as he stares at the door.

“Please, I’ll be okay, I promise,” you try to insist, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“It’s not okay for him to say shit like that to you,” he growls, glowering from where he stands over you, eyes on the door. He wants to leave, you know he does.

“It’s not, I know, but it’s not your problem.”

“Not my- What the fuck don’t you get?”

Your eyes widen at Sukuna’s question. His voice is frigid as ever, but for once you feel the shards of ice pricking your skin.

“What?” Your dumbfounded and hurt question hangs in the air momentarily as you try to process this outburst.

Sukuna’s scarred eye twitches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He huffs out a breath as he sees your expression, forcing himself to calm down so as not to make this about him. He doesn’t want to say something he regrets, and he certainly doesn’t want that icy tone to be directed at you, ever again.

“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

Your shoulders fall at his words, his chest heaving as he stares at you with an unidentifiable emotion.

“Where’s this coming from?” Your brow knits tightly over the bridge of your nose. As you subconsciously chew on your lower lip, Sukuna has to do everything in his power not to stare at your lips.

“Look, I just care, alright? Or somethin’.”

You barely know how to react to your best friend’s admission of care for you. Not once has he ever shown an ounce of his care through words. Sure, he’s shown it in other ways, but this is a first for him.

His gaze is fixed on the kitchen, so he barely notices when you stand up and set your hand on his arm, your thumb comfortingly rubbing his arm.

“I appreciate it, Kuna.” You tell him with a tired smile, doing your best to reassure him that you’re okay in spite of the situation. “Just… can we please just watch a movie or something?” You’re too tired, too worn out to handle everything going on right now and you’re afraid the buildup of emotions in your chest will overflow if you don’t distract yourself soon.

Sukuna’s focus fixes on your hand on his arm, the way it seems to burn into him in a way he’d long grown painfully familiar with. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab his arm and drag him somewhere, or hug him each time you said hello. Hell, the Halloween you’d both gotten entirely too drunk, you’d been on Sukuna’s back half of the night giggling and telling him, your King, where to take you.

Yet this time, the burn hurts. It hurts him to see you here with dried tears on your cheeks. It angers him to know your boyfriend had gotten away with treating you in such a way for so long.

He lets out a breath through his nose and takes a seat on the couch again at your insistence, watching as you drape the big blanket over the both of you. And god is it cute when you do, making sure he’s completely covered from the waist down like you’re tucking him in.

When you lean back against the arm of the couch, slinking comfortably back into the cushions and grab the remote, Sukuna feels his body begin to relax too, allowing himself to focus on your wellbeing here and now rather than the fact that he wants to pummel your boyfriend.

He’s not shocked when you flip through options and eventually settle on a Studio Ghibli movie he knows you’ve seen a million times because he’s seen it one too many times.

You know he doesn’t mind although he isn’t the biggest fan of the movie. Either way, it’s nearly five in the morning and you both know you’ll be asleep before you know it.

–

The next morning as cool air pours through a window and birdsong decorates each blow of the breeze, the pounding of your head is a rude awakening. It’s too early for you to be up given that you were awake so late, but your phone seems to think otherwise.

Your eyes flicker open blearily, and you lean up in bed with a yawn, realizing suddenly that you’re in Sukuna’s room and he’s nowhere to be found. Sitting up fully, you bring a hand up to your temple, pressing on it in an effort to ease the pain as you search for your phone, finding it eventually on the floor a small distance away.

Hopping down from the tall mattress, you yawn as you stare at the screen, your heart clenching at the sight of the contact photo on-screen as your phone rings. Your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both grin. With the way your screen is now shattered, it looks almost like a scene from a movie in the way it’s practically screaming a warning at you.

You’d spent far too much time alone with your thoughts the previous night. Hell, even with Sukuna’s comfort, his disdain for your boyfriend had been a bit of a wakeup call. Still, your thumb hovers over the green button.

“Hello?” Your voice is broken as you answer the phone.

“Thank god baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you outside last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You take a couple of steps forward, walking towards the living room as your eyes lock onto the tall man draped over the couch, his limbs entirely too long for the cushions. He must have carried you to his bed at some point and taken the couch.

Your stomach twists as you realize your boyfriend’s words are all lost on you, you didn’t hear a single one. You’re not sure when you tuned him out, or how long you’ve been staring at Sukuna when your boyfriend’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. What did you say?”

He sighs in frustration on the other side of the line and you wince as his tone gains a familiar edge. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you so we can talk.”

“I- um-” you pause, brow furrowing as you stare at your best friend, who begins to shuffle from his uncomfortable position on the couch as your soft voice awakens him from slumber.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the haze again, but you’re at a loss for words as Sukuna lifts his head, irritation written across his face at being awake, but when he flips over on the couch and spots you, his demeanor softens.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Sukuna’s words ring in your head over and over and you bite your lip. He pushes himself up on the couch, moving to stand a small distance in front of you in three long strides.

Sukuna may not have a way with words, but you never had a hard time telling what he was thinking just by the way he looks at you. As he stares down at you with a tilt of his head, you know exactly what’s going through his mind.

Like that, it all clicks. Of course he hated your boyfriend. The signs were always there, you just didn’t pay them any mind. The reason he was colder than usual towards your boyfriend is as obvious as the sun in the sky.

Sukuna thinks you’re pretty. He wasn’t trying to comfort you when he said that. That’s not who Sukuna is. That may as well be an admission that he would move mountains for you.

“Y/n, baby? What’s going on? I want you home, now.”

Your chest twists at his tone and as your eyes meet Sukuna’s, you wonder if your phone is loud enough for him to hear when his lip twitches.

You clear your throat, your eyes never once leaving Sukuna’s from where he stands with tousled hair, wrinkled sweatpants and a bare chest. It’s not unfamiliar to you, you know Sukuna is beyond hot. You know Sukuna could take anyone he wants home and you know he has a streak of doing so, but now that you think about it, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen Sukuna with anyone, and you know why now.

“You left me outside all night in the cold.” Your voice is meek, still mindlessly chewing on your lip as you stare at the tattooed man’s eyes, now lit ablaze with a fire that hadn’t been there earlier. “You know what- I should go.”

“What? Baby, come on we need to talk-”

“I have nothing to talk to you about. We’re-” You pause, your stomach stirring uncomfortably as all of your emotions seem to collide and collapse within you. You feel the tears that threaten to spill, your composure that threatens to break as you ball your hand into a fist at your side.

Sukuna’s hand twitches beside him as he does everything in his power not to lean down and kiss you then and there. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants to show your boyfriend everything he’s about to lose.

He wants to make you his. He wants you to make him yours.

Yet, all he can reasonably do is set a hand on your upper arm. He can’t be selfish. Not when you’ve come to him in your time of need.

“We’re done.”

“Nonono, we are not done, hold on-”

“I’ll come grab my bike and my things soon-”

“-let’s talk about this, I just made a mistake, okay-”

“-goodbye.”

“Don’t hang up, baby, hold on, fuck-”

Your hand falls to your side as you stare up at the taller man.

He doesn’t say a word as a tear runs down your cheek, shortly followed by a sob wracking your body. Sukuna’s hand moves from your arm to the back of your head as he pulls you into his chest, holding you there as you cry against his bare skin, tears wetting his toned pecs.

It’s not his ideal morning, but at least he can shamelessly say now that he wants to rearrange your boyfriend’s face with his fist.

He won’t say it anyway, though. He knows better.

Your best friend doesn’t say anything but his actions speak volumes as he holds you to him protectively, unmoving as he envelops you into his form. He exhales deeply as he holds you tightly to his body, his fingers gripping you tightly. It’s reassuring to know you have him in your time of need and eventually your tears begin to subside.

You blink your wet lashes against his skin as your warm breath fans his chest and abdomen. He shoots you a disgruntled look as your lashes tickle his skin and he jolts at the feeling.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns through gritted teeth, but it holds no malice.

You chuckle through tears. “Sorry, Ryo.”

He rolls his shoulders and holds you again, letting your face fall against his chest once more. This time, you’re careful to keep your eyes closed to avoid tickling him.

He’s surprisingly patient with you as he lets you stand there, only moving to take and silence your phone when he grows frustrated with the vibration.

When you finally settle, he leads you back to the couch, tossing his shirt and the blanket off the couch and onto the floor.

“Did you move me to the bed?”

He hums affirmatively, his chest warming as you smile at him. “Thanks, I could have taken the couch though. It looked a bit too small for y-”

“No.”

You breathe out through your nose in a half-hearted laugh. There’s never any use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind, so you give it up. Oh well.

“Can I stay here for a bit?”

You figure Sukuna will huff and puff and make a show out of it but he nods easily.

“Thanks,” you sigh, sinking back into the couch.

You stare at the ceiling. What a morning. You’ve barely been awake for ten minutes and your heart is pounding in your chest just from sitting beside your best friend, someone you’ve known for years.

Someone you’d long pushed any attraction for down into the depths of your heart in an effort to save yourself the heartbreak of being with someone who seemed to have no interest in you. Hell, you’d once thought he was emotionally unavailable, and yet…?

You can’t help but stare.

He’s exhausted, you’re not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake as his head bobs down onto the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar as sleep settles over his form. You smile softly at the sight, swallowing at the yearning feeling of wanting to settle into his warmth, though you know you shouldn’t.

You’re a mess. You’ve heard your boyfriend- ex- say things you aren’t ready to admit to yourself that leave fresh stinging wounds. Hell, that’s an entire can of worms you don’t want to touch right now. Your belongings, your bike, your entire life is all trapped in his house, in the house of someone that-

God why had you let him step all over you like that? It leaves you frowning as your heart twists and clenches uncomfortably. You loved him. Deep down, you know it’s the reason. You convinced yourself he loved you too.

You curse yourself for overlooking your feelings for Sukuna, for pushing them down. He’d always cared deeply for you, the signs had always been there, yet you never paid them any mind.

Chewing on your lower lip again, you get to your feet and grab the blanket off the floor, draping it over him. Your thumb brushes over the faded black lines that race over his shoulders and down his collar bones as you tuck the blanket over his shoulders.

He hums subconsciously, a serene smile pulling at his lips.

You smile back, turning to get some rest yourself. When Sukuna kicks his foot out suddenly and damn-near trips you, you let out a surprised yelp, spinning around to confront him.

“What the hell, Kuna?” You harshly snarl at him.

His lidded eyes just barely open, your reaction earning a smirk from him. There’s his feisty best friend.

“C’mere, it’s cold.”

It’s not cold, and Ryomen Sukuna is not sly, but your stomach flutters and your heart jumps to your throat anyway. Your shoulders fall to your sides in surprise, unable to be frustrated with him.

He flips the blanket up, his arm extended over the back of the couch. His expression is mild as usual but when you take him up on his offer and plop down next to him, his racing heart tells you everything you need to know.

Pulling your knees up onto the couch, you let him pull you against is chest, your head resting on his broad shoulder as he barely lasts a minute before the rhythm of his breathing steadies and his head falls back on the couch again.

You’re not long for the world of the waking either as you succumb to the temptation of sleep on his warm chest.

When your eyes flicker open again, your head has fallen into Sukuna’s lap and he’s splayed in what looks like an uncomfortable position with his arm and leg hanging off the couch. His head is still leaned back against the back of the couch with his mouth hanging open as soft snores part his lips.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him asleep. You’ve spent many hungover mornings at his apartment and vice versa but now in the gentle morning light with the distant sound of birdsong as the only noise disturbing his snores, he looks peaceful.

You shuffle on his lap in an effort to get a better look at his serene expression, but his strained groan suggests that you may have awoken him earlier than he would have liked.

“Can ya cut that out?” He grumbles without opening his eyes as he reaches down and adjusts your head to lay more on his abdomen.

The irritation in his voice doesn’t hold a candle to the sincerity in which his arm now cradles you against him and you giggle, to which he opens an eye to observe you.

“Sorry,” you hum. He exhales as he closes his eyes again, sliding further down on the couch.

You lay in bliss on his toned and horribly attractive bare chest for what only feels like a few minutes before his eyes peel open and he’s drinking in the sight of you, his gorgeous best friend, smiling at him from his chest.

And oh my god, Ryomen Sukuna is blushing.

Would you really be his best friend if you didn’t point it out?

“Kuna?”

“Hm?”

“You a lil flustered?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows deeply. “I am not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s warm in here, you’re laying on top of me and we have a blanket,” he refutes with an edge to his voice that tells you that you’re poking a nerve.

You also know him well enough to know it’s faux anger, playful if anything.

“Funny, I was told it was cold a couple of hours ago.”

His lip curls, chest rising and falling beneath you as he huffs. “You push my buttons.” You can see from the way a muscle in his jaw works that he’s fiddling with his tongue piercing.

“I could push more than just your buttons,” your voice drips with confidence, lowering an octave at the implication. You pull a hand out from beneath your chin, running a dainty finger across the length of his collar bone.

Sukuna’s pupils dilate in an instant, his attention drawn to your finger. He swallows hard, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk. All signs of his contempt forgotten, warmth swirls in those gorgeous eyes of his, but the smirk on his lips is devilish.

“Careful, princess,” he warns in a gruff voice that has you clenching your thighs together with wide eyes. Sukuna’s brow twitches as he feels your legs shuffle, entirely too happy with himself at getting such a reaction from you all from two words. He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you as you hide your face in his chest, heat radiating from your cheeks.

Tension is ripe in the air between you both when you finally meet Sukuna’s intense gaze and it makes a question pop into your mind.

“How long?” The words are blurted out and Sukuna shifts beneath you to get a better view.

“What are you on about?”

“How long have you liked me?”

Sukuna’s scoff hits the air before he can even register he’s made the noise. “Go get ready or whatever so we can pick up your shit.” His brow is pulled into a tight scowl as he all but shoves you to the ground.

You barely manage to catch yourself before falling on your ass, rolling your eyes as you steady yourself.

“Kuuuna!” You coo with a grin, but before you have a chance to tease him any further, Sukuna lunges at you. “Wait, wait-”

You shriek in protest as he barrels into your legs, effortlessly lifting you over his shoulder. He pays no mind to any of your protests, nor your kicking and squirming against him as he dumps you with little grace on his bed.

“What-”

“Stop complainin’ and go change or shower or whatever y’ gotta do. I want your bike back.”

Sitting up as you attempt to reorient yourself, you blink a couple of times and manage to call his name out just before he’s turning away.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you tell him, staring down at your pajamas.

“You’ve been leaving shit here for years, find something in my closet.”

“Have I?” You wonder aloud, suddenly realizing your hungover mornings passed in his apartment are likely the culprit for many missing outfits. “Wait, why do you want my bike back?” You realize suddenly, but he’s already shutting the door to his room and leaving you in tranquility.

Standing in the silence broken only by distant birdsong and the muffled sounds of traffic, you find your gaze lingering on the door where he once stood.

How long? You wonder to yourself. How many signs, how many signals had you missed or brushed off all these years under the assumption that your grumpy best friend was just that- your best friend?

You set a hand over your fast-beating heart, trying to steady the pace it’s beating at as emotions run rampant through you. Between the shock of realization of Sukuna’s feelings and the shitty night you’d had- your birthday, by the way- you can’t help the shaky exhale that parts your lips.

It’s a lot to take in.

You take your time showering, enjoying the way the warm water rinses away all signs of the prior night. It’s a warm respite from the days that are beginning to grow frosty as winter approaches. Most importantly, the white noise of the water falling drowns out the steady stream of jumbled thoughts flowing like a river through your mind.

Perusing Sukuna’s closet, you do manage to find more of your clothes than you had expected.

“My nice leggings were here the whole time?” You mutter to yourself as you pull them from a pile of pants. Along with them, you manage to find a pair of jeans, more shirts than you’d care to admit, an old jacket and a hoodie.

Pulling on a form-fitting black low-cut shirt and a red leather jacket, you poke your head out of the bedroom door.

“Why’d you never give any of this back?”

Sukuna’s leaning out the window with a cigarette held between two fingers. He blows a puff of smoke out into the cool fall air before turning to you. He’s still in his sweatpants but has pulled his shirt on.

“I used to bring ‘em back to your place when I visited but they always ended up back on my couch,” he shrugs simply. “Wasn’t worth the time.”

“I didn’t know it was this much clothing.”

“Your memory’s shit.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand to your heart, feigning being hurt.

He stubs out the cigarette, waving the smoke out the window with his arm before shutting it. “Done in there?”

You nod and exchange places with Sukuna as he showers. He takes less than a quarter of the time you did and is out with the most effortlessly cool style that you can’t help but be jealous of him.

His typical black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders with a vintage Harley Davidson shirt beneath. He sports ripped jeans on his lower half and blackout shades sit atop his spiked pink hair.

“See something you like?”

You barely manage to utter out a pathetic ‘uh’ before Sukuna’s chuckling at you as he catches you eyeing him from your place on the couch. He makes his way around the couch, patting your shoulder encouragingly.

“Let’s go.”

Shaking your head to clear your mind, you get to your feet and follow Sukuna to the door, stopping him before he can leave.

“Hey. Can you stay on the sidewalk while I talk to him?”

The tall man pauses at your serious tone, examining your expression. “Why?”

You know why he’s asking.

“I’m serious, Ryo. I don’t want you two fighting.”

“He treated you like shit, y/n.”

“I- I know.”

His jaw clenches. “The piece of shit deserves-”

“I know, okay? Please, this is what I’m trying to prevent. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll leave your ass in jail this time.”

His head falls back, eyes closed as he comes to terms with just how serious you are. He rolls his shoulders backwards once before nodding. “Whatever, fine.” His tone drips with exasperation and anger and you can only hope at this point that he means what he says.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, falling into place beside him as he leads the way down to his bike.

Though you rode behind him less than twelve hours ago, somehow it feels different today as he places his helmet on you and pulls you tight to his broad form. His feisty little backpack, so cute in his helmet. He’s not oblivious to the way your hands roam his abs either as a smirk pulls at his features. It’s a sweet momentary distraction from his searing anger.

It takes every ounce of self control that Sukuna has to stay at his bike as he watches you ring the doorbell of your own house. Thank god for the cold air keeping his anger from simmering through his skin. He’s sure he’d be a pile of molten anger otherwise.

You shuffle uncomfortably at the doorstep, knowing entirely too well that this is going to go poorly. You were practically asking for a fight by showing up with Sukuna but what better option do you have? Your wallet and keys are still sitting soundly on the nightstand of the bed you’d spent the last several months sleeping in. At least, that’s where they should be.

It takes a moment before the door creaks open, your ex’s surprised wide eyes staring back at you.

“Shit, thank god you’re home-”

You barely manage to duck from his grasp as he attempts to pull you into his embrace. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you face your ex, whose face contorts to one of pain when you duck away from him.

“I told you-” You mentally curse yourself as your voice breaks. Closing your eyes, you readjust and face your ex with confidence. “We’re done.”

“We need to talk,” he insists, his voice sickeningly sweet, and it almost makes you want to gag the way he swings between sweet nothings and manipulative cords that twist your heart.

“We talked for four hours last night. There’s nothing left to talk about!” You swing a hand through the air for emphasis as your voice rises, staring at him in disbelief. “Just let me in, I need my keys and-”

His arm swings out to block the door, knuckles white as he grips the frame of the door. His brow curls upwards in… frustration? Irritation? Anger? Pain? You’re not sure. “This is your home. You belong with me.”

You swallow the bile in your throat like a stone straight to the pit of your stomach. Once words like that would have made you swoon, now you feel as though you’re a deer in the headlights staring at a man you don’t recognize. A man who holds the barrel of a metaphorical gun.

You spare a glance behind you for reassurance, spotting Sukuna sitting at his bike. If it’s possible for a man to have smoke spewing from his ears, Sukuna is the spitting image of such a thing. His face is red with anger, hands clenched at either side of his body as he tries desperately to hold himself back.

He still remembers the way you excitedly told him about your new boyfriend. About how sweet he was, how kind he was. Although it pained him to know it was someone else making you happy, he was just glad you were happy. But when you had invited him to meet your boyfriend, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel as though the man didn’t match your description.

He’d tried to convince himself he was just being jealous, but the more time he spent around you, the more he noticed.

The last straw for Sukuna was when you had invited him, your boyfriend, and some of your closest friends along to see the latest installment in the Predator franchise. You’d stopped for dinner first and your boyfriend had insisted on ordering for you.

Sukuna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he had found it strange when a salad had been set in front of you. Not once had Sukuna ever seen you order a salad. Well, he had, but as a side. Never as the entire meal.

He’d tried to brush it off but when you’d decided on popcorn at the movie and your boyfriend had insisted you didn’t need it, Sukuna made a point of ordering a large one and sharing it with you.

Now as you look back at him uncertainly, every bone in Sukuna’s body screams to move. Yet his brain tells him to listen to you. He takes a breath in an effort to stay calm, deciding to respect your wishes.

“You brought him here?” Your ex pales as he follows your line of sight.

That seems to give you the confidence to face him again as anger sears through your blood. “You left me outside alone! He came to get me!” You search his face for any sign of remorse. When you don’t find it, tears prick at your eyes. Over a year spent together and he can’t even show you an ounce of kindness.

“I told you baby, it was a mistake!”

“No- No. No, a mistake is forgetting to turn off the sink, not leaving me outside in the cold with nothing but a broken phone.” Your voice drips with venom as the cold of the previous night envelops you in its memory, a reminder that this is for the best.

“Your phone isn’t broken, get over it y/n.” You glance down at his fist as it balls at his side.

“You shattered it.” You deadpan.

“Can we forget about the phone? For fuck’s sake.” He lifts his fist in the air to bring it up to his forehead as he attempts to calm himself down. “Look-” he shoots Sukuna a glance before smiling, his voice growing honeyed. “We’ll figure things out, okay? Why don’t you come in?”

You hesitate. You see the red flags as clear as day now that the fog has lifted, and you know Sukuna is grateful when you pleadingly look at him. His signal to come beat the shit out of your ex. Well, no, it isn’t. But he wishes it was.

Regardless, he’s up the front lawn to the door of the small house in an instant, standing behind you with all the self-control he can physically muster.

“We’re having a private conversation, would you mind-”

“Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” You insist, backing into Sukuna as your ex reaches for your arm. You’re thankful in this moment that your closest friend is nearly seven feet and built like a brick wall as it could never really matter who he’s up against, he’ll always be the scariest one in the room.

Your ex’s mouth curls into a snarl, eyeing Sukuna’s hands that rest easily on your upper arms.

“You’ve gotta be-” he grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand that isn’t blocking you from entering the house. “Come on baby, you know you belong with me and not-” he cuts himself off as he shoots Sukuna an icy glance.

You shift uncomfortably at the tone he uses as he says that you belong with him, growing uneasy the longer you’re in his presence. Steeling your resolve, you straighten yourself and muster as much confidence as you can.

“This isn’t about Sukuna. You left me outside in the cold last night and I called my best friend to get me,” you tell him without missing a beat. Sukuna is practically grinning behind you as your ex’s jaw clenches but you don’t see the exchange between the two men. “Oh, and I don’t belong with or to anyone.”

Sukuna squeezes your arm in reassurance.

“I need my keys and wallet. I’m taking my bike and some clothes.”

Your ex mulls over your words before relenting finally, just as you’re beginning to think you’ll be without belongings. “Fine, but he stays outside.”

You glance up at Sukuna, whose expression is unreadable. “Fine,” you agree, slipping from Sukuna’s grasp and into the house. Your ex goes to close the door in Sukuna’s face, but a steady hand stops him just as you dash out of sight into your old bedroom.

“Let go of the door, man.”

“Leave the door open, man,” Sukuna warns mockingly in a sneer.

“She’s my-”

“She’s not. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Sukuna.” He rolls his eyes, pressing more of his weight against the door, but it’s nothing compared to the bulk Sukuna packs.

“Consider yourself lucky I’m not rearranging your face right now,” his deep eyes blaze as he leans closer to your ex, his words dangerously low. If ever Sukuna is thankful that he knows he’s a scary person, it’s right now as your ex flinches back and relents, leaving the door open and leaving Sukuna at the door.

Your ex disappears from Sukuna’s sight and he stands up straight, turning to the side as he stares at your bike. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still doesn’t love the prospect of you being alone with your ex for any period of time.

Sukuna especially hates how long it takes. He’s not sure how much you need to pack and he can’t make out whatever you’re talking about with your ex but each passing moment he grows less patient and less willing to wait outside.

Just as he’s thinking of stepping inside, he sees your tiny figure with a backpack and a suitcase, keys dangling from your fingers and your wallet held firmly in your hand. The relief on your face when you lock eyes with Sukuna is somewhat heartwarming, but what isn’t is the way your ex tries to grab your wrist as you make your way to the door.

You pull against him but his grip fastens.

Sukuna sees red. He sees red and he doesn’t think twice about stepping into what was once your house.

“Don’t touch her.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of Sukuna making his way towards you with gritted teeth. “No, no, no! Sukuna! It’s fine, I can handle this!” Your hand with your wallet and keys flies up as you maneuver yourself between him and your ex.

Your ex’s hand doesn’t loosen even when your arm physically blocks Sukuna from laying a beating on him.

You take a breath, looking between the two men. “I’m leaving. Please let go,” you say softly, so calmly it almost breaks Sukuna’s heart that your ex’s actions seem so normal to you.

“We aren’t done talking-”

“We are. I’ll be back for the rest of my things later.” You tug your wrist again, sending a pleading look to your ex, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go.”

“Y/n, please. Please, we can work this out.”

“Let go,” you tell him firmly, ignoring his words.

“Please-”

“I don’t know if you’re incapable of listening or if you just want your head bashed in, but I’d listen to her.” Sukuna’s voice is a warning, dripping with malevolence you’ve never heard from him before. His chest is pressed hard against your free hand and you aren’t sure you can hold him back much longer.

“Ryo,” you plead, looking between the two men as you try to pull your wrist again. Your ex’s hand twitches at Sukuna’s words before loosening and falling to his side. You breathe out a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bruising markings his fingers left behind.

“So he’s Ryo now, huh?”

You glare pointedly at your ex, knowing that one wrong word will have him with his face caved in.

Sukuna’s intense stare never once leaves your ex, but he does allow you to hand him your suitcase and gently tug his forearm to follow you out the door.

Your ex watches from the door as Sukuna follows you to your bike. His intent gaze has your hair standing on end but you choose to ignore the feeling in favor of hopping on your bike.

The sound of your bike roaring to life puts both you and Sukuna at ease and you ride down the driveway, stopping next to his bike. He jogs after you with your suitcase still in-hand.

Sukuna is quiet, which isn’t unusual for him but you can practically feel the anger coming off of him in droves like smoke. Kicking your bike’s stand out, you hop off and flip his Ducati’s storage compartment open, pulling out a couple of straps to secure your suitcase to the back of your bike.

“Ready?”

You pull your friend’s attention from your ex finally as your hand comes to rest on his bicep. His eyes travel from your face to your arm that rests on him, where he can see the way your wrist is reddened and sure to bruise.

Realizing the sight of your reddened arm has his jaw clenching with anger, you move it behind your back and out of sight.

“Kuna, please.”

His intense gaze examines yours as the breeze faintly ruffles his spiked hair. He’s completely still apart from the muscle working in his jaw as he thinks over his options at this moment, but his chest heaves as he sighs in exasperation and gives in.

“Whatever,” he growls, shooting a poisonous look back at the door that your ex hasn’t moved from. Sukuna haughtily pulls his helmet on over his head, flipping his visor down before getting on his bike and accelerating quickly.

Based on the way Sukuna weaves through traffic and carelessly speeds through lights, you know he’s furious. You pull your bike into the parking spot next to him a couple of minutes after he pulls in, finding him pacing in the parking garage.

Shutting off your bike and pulling off your helmet, you approach him with angled brows, trying to reassure him. “Thanks for coming with me, I appreciate it.” He’s blinded by rage and you’re not even sure if he hears you. “Kuna, I’m okay,” you insist, reaching out to put a hand on his arm but he still brushes past you.

Sighing, you unload your suitcase from the back of your bike and return the bungee cables to the storage compartment of the Ducati as you let Sukuna blow off some steam.

Once everything is ready to go up to Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to him.

“Can we go up to your place?”

“He hurt you,” Sukuna hisses with pupils the size of pinpricks. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know that anger was directed elsewhere.

“It’s nothing really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Fucking asshole, I should have-”

“Nope, we’re not going into that. I don’t want to know what you think you should have done.”

You grab your suitcase and begin rolling it through the parkade to the elevator, relieved when you hear a frustrated grunt behind you and a pair of keys clinking. The ride up to his apartment is silent, shrouded in anger.

Really, you should be the angry one but if anything, you're more relieved. Relieved that you have someone like Sukuna to stay with, someone who’s so willing to come get you at three in the morning when you need him most.

Sukuna swings the door to his apartment open, slamming against the doorstop loudly before creaking shut. His hand flies to his pocket as he trudges across the apartment, tossing his leather jacket on the couch and leaning out the window as he lights a cigarette.

A puff of smoke leaves his mouth as he swings his head back with closed eyes.

Shaking your head, you decide not to give him a hard time for his bad habit and give him space as you busy yourself with setting the couch up nicely for yourself to sleep on given that you were now homeless, among other things.

Sukuna takes his time at the window, stubbing out his cigarette when it’s barely an inch long and finally approaching you from where you sit on the floor looking through your bag, taking inventory of what you have and what you’ll need to pick up eventually.

Your pretty face smiles up at him when his shadow blocks your view and he finds himself relaxing more from the sight of you than he had from the nicotine.

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head, noting that he seems more calm now and he nods.

“Should be askin’ you that.”

“I’m okay. I mean it,” you insist.

His eyes flicker down to your wrist again but he knows better than to doubt you and he knows you can handle the pain. Sitting down on the couch behind you, he leans back and watches you quietly.

“I got the things that were most important, but hopefully I can go back and grab everything else eventually,” you note, more to yourself than him. He still hums in acknowledgement. “Why’d you want my bike back so bad, by the way?”

Your friend leans forward on his knees. “So I can still go for rides with you.”

“What, do I make a bad backpack?” You tease with a grin that has Sukuna’s shoulders falling to his sides as his anger subsides completely.

“Hard to drive when you’re feelin’ me up, princess.”

Your lips purse as your cheeks redden, caught off-guard by his nonchalant smirk. You’d felt up his abs a bit during the ride to your old place, sure, but being called out still had the tips of your ears heating up.

You stubbornly avoid his gaze, going back to figuring out if you’d forgotten anything. Deep chuckles resonate from behind you as your new roommate ruffles your hair and gets to his feet.

“By the way we’re goin’ out tonight.”

You tilt your head, eyes following Sukuna as he saunters over to the fridge and pulls out an energy drink.

“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask curiously, not entirely sure you’re in the mood to go out.

“That new rom com movie or whatever that you wanted to see is showing tonight. I got tickets.” He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out your favorite beverage, tossing it to you.

You barely manage to catch it, mumbling a thank you. “I don’t really know if I’m up for it,” you admit, staring at the drink in your hands.

“I already bought the tickets,” he shrugs, laying back on the couch again. “Suck it up.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste but you know it’s likely for the best that you’re out of the house so you do, in fact, suck it up.

It quickly becomes time for the movie and you find yourself back in the parking garage a couple of hours before sunset.

“Can you drive?”

“You gonna feel me up again?” Sukuna raises a brow at you, but a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.

“... Can I?”

Your confidence catches him off-guard and he blanches, his lips parting as he stares at you. His eyes flicker to your lips and that single action has your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. The fluttering in your stomach as you wait for him to react is enough to make you wretch and you consider yourself lucky that he seems to pull himself together as his lips tug upwards into a sly grin.

He takes a step forward, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t stray too low while I’m drivin’.”

You’re left choking on air as Sukuna’s tone sends a jolt of electricity straight up your spine, setting your entire body ablaze. Your eyes trail the length of his body, pausing as you watch him pull his leather jacket over his thin white shirt. The way his muscles ripple and tense with each movement has you swallowing hard as you realize just how built and toned he really is.

You’re thankful you aren’t caught and are spared from Sukuna’s teasing as you hop onto the back of his bike, purposefully making a show of feeling up his abs. Moving from his pecs, across the peaks and valleys of each set of muscles, down until you take pause as you feel the waist of his pants connect with the tips of your fingers.

Sukuna groans, looking over his shoulder before he puts on his helmet. “Not while I’m driving, got it?”

You nod at him, batting your eyelashes sweetly. He huffs, adjusting the crotch of his pants before pulling his helmet on. He waits for you to follow suit before pulling out of the parking garage and heading to the theater.

Sukuna’s warmth is both a beacon of hope and a searing flame to your skin. A comfort and an exciting new idea to explore. You hold onto him tightly, your body melting into his heat as he drives much more carefully with you hooked onto him than he had earlier in the day.

Sukuna pulls into a spot by the front door of the theater and waits for you to let go before hopping off of the bike himself.

“Popcorn?” He asks you mildly, hands in his pockets.

“Um, that’s alright.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I don’t need popcorn.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?”

You pause, your brow knit as you silently question what he means, but Sukuna’s seen this play out before with your ex and he wants to break this habit.

“Do you want popcorn, y/n?”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”

Sukuna nods, surprising you as he grabs not your forearm or bicep as he usually does, but your hand. His much larger, veiny hand folds over yours, his fingers tangling with yours. Your hand is so small in his and even the feeling of your hand against him feels like a reminder of just how cute you are to him.

Your cheeks are surely dusted in a red glow, but you don’t mind given the surprisingly pleasant eagerness in your chest.

With popcorn in-hand, Sukuna leads you into the theater, taking you to your seat and relaxing into the reclining chair. He lifts the arm rest between you, not once disconnecting your hands like it’s the most natural action in the world.

And in all honesty, it is. Everything with Sukuna is easy. It feels right. It feels right in a way you’re not familiar with and it’s exhilarating.

Given the cheesy scenario he set up for, you half-expect Sukuna to make a move during the movie, but his thumb simply continues to rub soothing lines over your knuckles.

It’s after the movie that he surprises you.

Bounding down the stairs ahead of Sukuna as you tug him along with you, you’re practically gushing about the movie that you’re positive he barely paid attention to. It isn’t his style of film but he doesn’t mind either way.

“-I mean come on, how can you not love Owen Wilson in that role?”

“Mm.”

“-and it’s so charming watching him start to learn and care about her world-”

“Mhmm.”

“-oh my god and when she realizes she loves him and she shows up at the tournament-”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Despite how little he has to say about the movie, he’s just happy you enjoyed it.

“-and when he gets her flooowers?-”

Sukuna chuckles as you continue to gush over the movie at him. Still hand-in-hand, he tugs you along, quietly listening to your rambles as he makes his way to his bike. His chest swirls with anticipation as you pay his actions no mind when he turns towards the storage compartment of his bike as you continue rambling on.

It takes only a moment for his hand to reach the delicate item he’s in search of, deftly wrapping two fingers around the dainty object. Keeping his hand behind him, he turns to you with a soft smile. Lidded eyes stare at you with mirth, an expression that isn’t typical for Sukuna, so your rambles begin to fade into silence as you tilt your head curiously at him.

“Flowers, hm?” He asks, pulling a beautiful, blooming red rose out from behind him. He holds it out to you, pulling you closer by the hand that’s still intertwined with his as you purse your lips in disbelief.

“I- I-” You stammer over your words as your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed on the gorgeous flower held in Sukuna’s fingers.

It’s almost a strange sight to behold- the same man you’d seen passed out on your couch dozens of times, the man you’d had to bail out of jail on more than one occasion, the same man who grumbled and complained every single time you went to Red’s Bar- now holding a dainty little rose for you.

“W- when did you even have time to get this?” You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. “Sukuna, this is so much I-”

His brows raise as your rambles begin again and although he’s flustered you more times than he can count over the years, he’s never seen you genuinely nervous like this.

“-you really didn’t have to do anything like this for me-”

“Y/n.”

“-taking me to the movies is already a big deal and I know the last day has been a hassle for you-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna chuckles this time, his grip on your hand tightening as he squeezes it in an effort to get your attention.

“-I didn’t get you anything, I don’t-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna leans down, capturing your lips against his. His lips are soft and the kiss is uncharacteristically sweet. His hand slides out of your grasp, sliding up your arm and coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He parts from your lips with a smirk. “Shut up, princess.”

You stare breathlessly at him, eyes flickering wildly between his eyes, his lips, before resting down on the rose again.

“Take the damn flower.”

“R-right!” You gingerly reach out, holding the stem as you bring it up to your nose. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“Well, someone had to,” it comes out as more of a grumble as his brow furrows, but his fingers curl into the skin of your waist as he speaks, betraying the meaning behind his words.

“Mhmm, someone.” You agree teasingly, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Kuna.” You rise up onto your tiptoes, resting a hand on his chest as you lean up to kiss him, just barely able to reach his jaw.

His chest vibrates in a content hum. “So short,” he mocks, tilting his head to meet your lips again. Pulling his other hand from his pocket, he pulls the flower from your fingers, setting it in the storage behind him and finding your waist to bring you flush against him.

Your hands slide up the length of his hard musculature until you find his neck. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at his nape and another hum slips from his lips, swallowed by your kiss.

He leans down to meet your height better as the kiss gains urgency, years of pent up emotions flooding from Sukuna’s every movement. His fingers curl into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Kuna?”

He grunts into the kiss, smirking against your lips when he slides a hand from your waist down to your hips.

“Can we-” you breathe out between kisses, “-go home?”

Sukuna parts from your lips, examining your expression with blown pupils, so wide you can barely see the deep color of his irises. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling fast as he nods silently.

You let out a surprised squeal when he grabs you by the hips and effortlessly lifts you onto his bike.

“-can do it myself,” you insist but Sukuna doesn’t register your words, too caught up in the intoxication of your smell, your feel, your taste. He wants more.

Hopping on the bike in front of you, he waits for your helmet to be on before he starts his Ducati and throws his helmet on. Your hands take their place around his toned abdomen, sliding down without a moment’s thought.

“Behave,” Sukuna hisses loud enough that you hear him even over the sound of his bike’s engine. He doesn’t need your visor up to know you’re smiling innocently at him.

He clicks his tongue and speeds out of the parking lot back towards his apartment. Though he’s still more careful driving with his sweet little backpack clinging to him, you’re not oblivious to the fact that he is driving quicker than usual.

Relaxing against Sukuna’s toned back brings with it a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s strange, despite him speeding through traffic and the sparking tension between you both, it’s easy to close your eyes and relax against him.

It’s not a feeling you’ve had with your ex for a long time. Although you ignored the flags throughout your relationship and defended him when he didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t always that way, but Sukuna has always been a safe and worry-free escape from the world for you. Since the first day he drove into your life, since you first realized that Sukuna enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

He’s a hard book to read and an easy presence to be in.

Your eyes flicker open, not realizing you’d grown so relaxed holding onto him that he’d already pulled into his parking spot, parking beside your Kawasaki.

Sukuna instinctively moves to get off his bike, expecting you to follow him, but pauses when you move rather sluggishly behind him. Pulling his helmet off, he shakes his head in an effort to fix his hair before he eyes you over his shoulder.

“You gonna get off?”

To anyone else, it might come across as aggressive, but his tone is mild as ever.

“Sorry, Kuna.”

You exhale and push off the bike with a hand resting on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. He watches you curiously, tucking you under his shoulder and leading the way back up to his apartment.

Pulling out his keys in the elevator, he ducks his head to get a good look at your expression.

“Tired?”

“No! … Well, yeah, but I was just relaxing,” you tell him and he hums, his eyes swirling with mirth. You cross an arm over your chest, your breast pressing against your arm. His eyes flicker to the sight, pupils dilating as he swallows hard. “See something you like, Sukuna?”

Your lidded eyes and purring voice has the taller man teetering on the edge of self control. His mind reels with thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the elevator and the moment the door opens, he’s making his way to his apartment like a man on a mission.

Desire pools between your thighs at his eagerness, made more apparent in the way he fumbles at the door with his keys.

It’s not even a second after the door is closed and he maneuvers you against the door, helmets on the ground as his fingers move to flip the lock behind you before they travel up the side of your body, admiring your curves before he cups your face.

He captures your lips, hungry to taste you again. He wants to devour you, he wants to mark you and make you his. Your lips move in tandem with his, matching his fervor with equal eagerness.

Your fingers rake his chest, thumbs sliding over the length of his collarbones. The feeling of his broad chest beneath your hands drives you crazy and you press back against him, your breasts pressing against the expanse of his chest.

“Kuna, wait,” you breathe, chest heaving as you part from him. Vermillion irises lock on you as he pulls back, his fingers gripping your waist almost bruisingly. “This isn't…” You pause, your mouth opening and closing hesitantly.

“Out with it,” Sukuna encourages hoarsely.

You shoot him a wry smile at his blunt impatience. “This isn’t just a hookup for me, you know.”

He raises a brow at you. “You think that’s what this is for me?” You might even assume he sounds offended.

“No! No,” you clarify, shaking your head as your pretty eyes go wide. He rolls his shoulders, leaning his face closer to yours as he intently watches you. “I just… I-” you pause again, avoiding his intense gaze.

“It’s not a one night stand, y/n.” Sukuna’s pupils shrink as he speaks solemnly. He feels you relax in his grip, your eyes coming up to meet his. “Relax n’ let me take care of you.”

Your cheeks redden at your best friend’s boldness and you shuffle as you press your thighs together.

“I better not be your rebound, y’know.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, the elbow holding him up against the door sliding down as his face grows closer to you. God, he’s tall. He’s tall and built like a monster, and between the size of his hands, his muscles, not to mention his height… Your wide, almost timid eyes flicker down to his crotch. He catches the action and smirks. “Don’t get nervous now,” he leers.

“I’m not!” You squeak, the blush spreading to the tips of your ears. “And… you’re not a rebound.” You grab his shirt collar as you pull him in for a kiss, much sweeter than the covetous one you’d shared a minute ago.

Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself relaxing into your touch when you slide your hands up his neck and into his dark, undyed undercut.

“I like you, Ryo.” You admit when you pull back just enough for the words to reach his ears. His smirk can be felt against your lips.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” In true Sukuna fashion, that’s his way of reciprocating your admission, because he doesn’t do feelings. But you know. You know exactly what he means.

You grin against his lips, giggling like a giddy school girl who’s just seen her crush smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles at your sudden timid delight.

“You’re such a loser,” he chuckles, his hand moving from your waist to hold your chin. He kisses you softly, your giggles persisting against his lips. Your fingers curl gleefully in his hair when he pulls back with impishly narrowed eyes. “You’re makin’ it hard to kiss you.”

“Sorry,” you chirp, your eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s just cute- you’re cute.”

“Me?” He pulls back, standing at his full height and making a point of showing off his broad shouldered stance. “Cute?” He tilts his head quizzically as if to prove a point but if anything, you find the strands of hair falling out of place over his forehead cute.

“Yeah, you.”

“I’ll show you cute,” he grumbles, and suddenly you’re lifted off the ground effortlessly. You shriek in surprise in his ear as you grasp at the back of his leather jacket. He mumbles something about you being a brat before dumping you on the couch and crawling over your body.

His form looms over you and you’re both suddenly very aware of the immense size difference between you both, something which might be one of Sukuna’s favorite things. He loves how tiny you are, how easily he can handle you.

Sukuna takes pause, his usually dour gaze filled with longing, admiring what he’d wanted for so long as you stare back at him with wide eyes. He loves the fiery attitude you always sport, but this flustered side of you is new to him and he drinks it in like a drug.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from his arms that cage you in, down the expanse of his chest that peeks through his V-neck, back up to that alluring tattooed face. His sharp jaw, his ever-present smirk, his intense stare, it’s all so goddamn sexy and you’re flustered to silence like a deer in the headlights being hunted by a wolf.

“Funny, you seem to have lost your bark,” he comments tantalizingly, dipping down to kiss your jaw. Now with your body trapped beneath him, he feels the way your hips twitch. “What happened to the brat from earlier?”

You swallow down a moan as his voice sets you ablaze. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, fingers gripping him tightly. You take a breath to readjust and bat your lashes up at him as you push through the sudden nerves that seem to chase you. “Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuna.”

Sukuna grins, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “There she is,” he hums, bringing himself down to his elbows to kiss you wholly. His lips move urgently against yours, tongue swiping your lower lip almost immediately. He groans when you grant him access by parting your lips, drinking in your taste. You gasp in surprise as his tongue piercing grazes your tongue, a strangely pleasurable new feeling.

Your hands slide from his biceps up his neck, keeping him close, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. When you shift beneath him to clench your thighs as heat pools in your lower abdomen, he groans.

“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth, catching you by surprise when he nips your lower lip. He pulls back for only a moment but in that split second the look on your best friend’s face tells you everything you need to know. You’re his prey, and he’s about to devour you.

“Kuna-!” You gasp in surprise when kisses down the side of your neck, leaving behind purple bruises as he sucks and nips at the side of your neck. Reaching the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, his teeth graze your skin before gently sinking in, testing the waters with a glance at your face.

You whine, squirming beneath him.

Sukuna withdraws with a smirk, running his tongue soothingly over the reddened skin. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling his hips against you so roughly you whimper. “Shit,” he mumbles and returns to his ministrations, his hips rolling against yours like a dog in heat.

“Sh-shut up, Kuna…” you groan, rutting your hips up into him. His movement stutters with pleasure and he nips your skin again in response. “Darlin’, hold onto me,” his husky voice commands against the skin of your ear.

“Hm? Ah-!”

Sukuna slides a muscular arm beneath the small of your back, pressing you to him and urging your arms to cling to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, holding your small frame to him in one arm.

He carries you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as you press kisses to his collarbone, leaving behind marks of your own. He hums, plopping you down onto the bed and standing to shrug his jacket off and unbuckle his belt, letting it and his jeans drop to the floor.

You’re sure your face is red as a tomato, pupils dilated as you admire his body, your gaze landing on the boner that’s pulling the fabric of his black Calvin Klein boxers taut. You swipe your tongue out over your lips, bringing your lower lip between your teeth.

Your best friend grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You let out a surprised gasp, gripping at the sheets at either side of you.

“G’nna take my time n’ treat her right,” he purrs, falling over you as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He could be talking about you or your pussy, it doesn’t matter either way.

He lifts your shirt up over your head and you arch your back to make it easier. You’re so pliant for him and he adores your obedience, adores the desperate, lustful look in your eyes.

“Shit, girl,” he mumbles, his eyes eating you alive on the spot as he admires your body. You’re so small in comparison to the way his figure looms over you.

Catching your gaze, he squeezes one of your breasts, slipping the other from the fabric of your lace bra to press the warm flat of his tongue to your nipple. You jolt as pleasure buzzes through your body, moaning when he sucks the hardened bud between his lips. The cool metal of his piercing intensifies the pleasure when it grazes your skin and causes goosebumps to raise on your arms.

Your hands find his hair, tugging enough that Sukuna smirks against the plush of your skin.

“So needy,” he hums. Your thighs clench around his waist as the vibration of his voice against your skin rocks through you.

Your lidded eyes stare down at him and you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off. He complies, tossing it across the room. His heavily tattooed chest, abdomen, arms- he’s gorgeous and you can barely believe he’s standing over you right now, eyes for only you.

“Kuna,” you mumble between moans, jerking as he flicks your nipple with a smug grin.

He mutters out a ‘what’ before sinking his teeth into your breast. You gasp, eyes widening and bucking your hips against him as your head swings back into the mattress. As you arch your back for him, Sukuna deftly slips your bra off.

“Stop being a tease,” you plead, the hard length of his cock twitching against your core as you tighten your legs.

“A tease? What do you want then, hm?” His voice is cocky, knowing. He wants you on your knees begging.

“Kunaaaa,” you groan, laying the back of your arm across your eyes, suddenly timid.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling your arm away from your face. He grabs your other arm and holds them both down above you with one large hand. “What do you want, brat?” His face is inches away from yours now and he rolls his hips against your core teasingly despite the ache he feels.

“I-” you pant, pausing to look at his intense stare. “Wan’ you to eat me out.”

“Yeah?” He hums, lowering his head so that his lips brush yours. “Thought you had manners?”

“Please, Kuna,” you beg in a whiny voice. Sukuna smirks, getting to his knees at the edge of the bed and draping his arm over your hips to hold them down as he sprawls your legs out before him.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he groans, his breath warm against the fabric of your panties. He wastes no time hooking his fingers through the fabric to pull them aside. His digits brush your folds as you buck your hips in a desperate attempt at friction.

Chuckling softly, Sukuna languidly licks up your cunt, savoring your taste with the slow movement. You squirm beneath him, raking your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips towards his tongue.

“Patience,” Sukuna hums and flicks his tongue out to circle your clit. His piercing grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes go wide with pleasure.

“Such a- hah- asshole- ah-!” Sukuna doesn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he pushes his long tongue into your dripping chasm, your walls clenching around the muscle in ecstasy.

Sukuna groans as your fingers tug his hair. He lets you buck your hips into his mouth and ride his face, relishing in the sound of your moans and pants.

The feeling of his tongue inside you is already so intense that when he brings a thumb up to flick your clit, the sudden desire that pulses through your body straight to the knot tightening in your core has you bucking your hips in surprise. His grip on your hips fastens as he holds you down again, keeping you from squirming out of his grasp.

The desire and heat pooling in your core quickly grow in intensity as Sukuna’s experienced tongue plunges through your folds, drinking up your arousal.

“K-Kuna- I- I’m gonna-” your words are mere babbles as you try to speak through the bliss, your orgasm steadily approaching.

“Let me taste it, princess.”

The feeling of his voice with his tongue within you, the way his piercing suddenly flicks your gummy walls, his thumb on your clit, the way he calls you princess, it’s so much that your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, causing your body to jolt and jerk against the mattress.

Sukuna’s thumb leaves your clit as he holds down one of your thighs to keep you from crushing his head as you moan and pant out his name while your body spasms. He slows his ministrations to drink every last drop of your orgasm before flicking your clit with his tongue one last time, pleased when you jolt.

He pushes himself up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Shit, you’re hot,” he mutters. You barely have a moment to come down from your high before he’s pulling you to the floor by your waist, dropping you on your knees. His hungry expression and throbbing cock tell you everything you need to know as you look up at him through your lashes.

Your fingers curl around the waist of his boxers as you pull them down his thighs. His rock-hard erection slaps against his abs as you free it from the confines of the fabric. Sure, Sukuna is a monster of a man at nearly seven feet tall of solid muscle mass and you’d felt him grinding against you, but your eyes still widen at the sight of his cock.

You feel your mouth water as you stare at the angry red tip, veins protruding and pulsing with desire on either side.

“Think you can take it?” He asks and although it’s a teasing and husky tone he uses with you, he is genuinely asking as well. You nod eagerly and he grins. “Good girl,” he purrs.

Bringing a hand up to his cock, you wrap your fingers daintily around the thick base, looking up at those glimmering vermillion eyes as you run your tongue from base to tip, eliciting a heavy groan from the man.

“Christ,” he groans, his head flying back in pleasure. You smirk and take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit before teasingly pulling back with a pop!

His hips shudder as he does everything in his power to stop himself from using your mouth, to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat with no warning.

“Needy, Ryo?”

You don’t expect the way that sets him off, lights his desire ablaze anew as he fists your hair and leans down with a clenched jaw to look you in the eyes.

You whimper in surprise, closing your thighs from where you sit on your knees as your cunt pulses from the way he handles you so roughly.

“Let’s get it straight right now which of us is needy,” he growls with a smirk, eyeing the way you shift your thighs. “You gonna be a good little slut for me?”

You nod up at him, pupils dilating as he tugs your hair. He grins, narrowing his eyes. “Words, woman.”

“Yes, Kuna,” you purr back at him. The wild look in his eyes intensifies as he receives your consent and pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. His jaw goes slack in pleasure as you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up his precum.

“Shit,” he groans out, watching as you take his cock without breaking eye contact while he thrusts further into your mouth. You gag when he reaches the back of your throat, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes and you shut them as you take his length. “Ah ah, look at me. Takin’ me so well.”

Sukuna knows you can’t take his entire cock in your mouth, he knows there’s a fairly large size difference between the both of you. It doesn’t stop the way he pushes your head down on his cock watching the way tears run down your cheeks as you so obediently let him handle you.

Saliva runs down the length of his cock and you bring a hand up to the base, pumping what you can’t fit in your throat. His hand pulls your mouth off his cock, adjusting his hand to hold your head back against the bed so that he can relentlessly fuck into you, massive cock hitting the back of your throat and gagging you with each thrust.

He throws his head back as you pump the base of his shaft while he fucks you, being his perfect little doll. His abs flex and twitch when your muscles tense as you swallow around him.

“Such a nasty fuckin’ throat.” He barely gives you any time to breathe as his pace increases, along with the pace of your hand to match. His chest heaves as he moans, letting you dig your nails into his thigh for purchase while he uses your throat.

His cock twitches as you moan when he hits the back of your throat and his eyes shut tight with pleasure, jaw going slack. When he jolts again with the next thrust, you know he’s close so you hum contentedly, sending vibrations up his shaft and causing his hips to jerk erratically as he chases his high.

“F-fuck,” he groans out before his hips stutter and your eyes widen when his cum unloads down your throat, thick ropes of salty sweet arousal swallowed as he keeps himself warm within your mouth. You move your lips slowly around his girth, milking every last drop of his orgasm. You pull back after a moment to allow yourself a chance to breathe, panting as you stare up at him.

His chest heaves and his cock twitches every few seconds, telling of the orgasm he’s just had. Still, his eyes burn with desire when he finally opens them.

He reaches down to pick you up and sets you at the edge of the bed on all fours roughly.

He squeezes your ass before slapping it once. Your body jolts in surprise as you gasp.

“Princess, you on any birth control?”

“Mhmm, you can go raw.”

You hear him mumble a curse beneath his breath. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he tells you, catching the way you glance over your shoulder at him and nod.

In spite of the rough way he uses and handles you, he’s still very attentive to your pleasure and comfort.

He pays no mind to the fact that you actually liked the panties you’re wearing as he physically tears them off of your body, tossing the ripped fabric aside. You whine in complaint, shooting him a look from over your shoulder.

“I’ll buy ya new ones,” he huffs, returning his attention to your body.

Squeezing your ass in both palms, he leans down and buries his face in your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. He hums at how wet you still are, moving a hand up your spine to hold you down and keep you arched for him.

His teeth sink into the plump of your ass and you squeak at the sudden burst of pain that quickly twists to pleasure when he soothingly laps over the mark he’s left.

He slides his hand down from squeezing your plump ass to glide a finger through your lubricated folds. You lean into his touch, gasping when he suddenly plunges one long finger into your lubricated pussy.

Your walls are tight as they pulse around his long finger. He eases another digit in, pumping them slowly as he realizes just how tight you are.

“Relax, darlin’,” he hums soothingly, curling his fingers against your walls a couple of times before he finds your g spot. His voice is such a stark contrast to his rough tendencies, but it’s soothing to have him so worried for your comfort.

“Ryo, f-fuck-” you moan out as his fingers languidly curl against your gummy walls which gradually relax against his long fingers. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing around nothing and craving his touch as you shift your hips in search of friction with a whine.

Sukuna grunts when he lines himself up with your plump cunt, pumping himself a couple of times before he slowly eases his tip into you. Your eyes widen at the delicious burn of the stretch, fingers curling in the sheets as you adjust to his massive size. And god this is only the tip.

You cry out, the feeling of his girthy cock filling you up blurring your vision as the pain transitions to pleasure before the process begins all over again with each movement he makes. His cock throbs, making you feel impossibly full.

Sukuna wants to ruin you, he wants to tear you apart on his cock, but he doesn’t want to hurt his sweet little best friend, so he watches the way your face contorts in mild pain, waiting for your expression to relax as he slowly feeds you his cock, inch by inch.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” Sukuna purrs, his thumb stroking your back in contrast to the fact that he’s still holding you down and keeping you arched for him.

His cock head brushes your cervix, pressing against it as he bottoms out, fingers curling against your back at how tight you’re squeezing him as he waits for you to adjust.

Your shoulders relax beneath his touch and you whimper as he slides his cock out to the tip, setting a moderate pace so as not to shock you. The feeling of his thick, veiny cock is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, his size just so much to take that you moan and whine with each thrust of his cock into your tight hole.

You grip at the sheets beneath you, gasping as Sukuna speeds up his thrusts and presses you hard into the mattress, muffling your moans.

“Kuna- mmph,” you let out a muffled whimper, jolting when he slaps your ass roughly, no longer holding back.

“F-fuckin’- shit-” he groans, his fingers gripping your skin bruisingly as he holds you in place. He leans forward, sliding his hand from your back to your neck, restricting your airflow subtly. Pleasure tears through your spine as he leans forward and pushes in deeper with each thrust, pulling moans and screams of his name from deep in your throat.

“K-Kuna, I’m- hah- close,” you whimper, words muffled by the sheets beneath you. He loosens his fingers from your neck, grabbing your waist with both hands as he pulls your ass closer to him, pounding into you faster as he chases his own high.

“Shit, y’r such a good lil slut for me,” he groans, feeling your walls tighten around his thick length with each thrust.

Pleasure tightens deep within your core, knotting and curling as he fucks you so deliciously that your juices are already dripping from your cunt around his hilt. His eyes lock on the sight and he throws his head back in pleasure, his own high not far behind.

With one last hit against your cervix, your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before as your entire body shakes and jolts, your knees and legs giving out.

If Sukuna wasn’t holding you up, you surely would have collapsed as stars cloud your vision and you moan his name like a mantra. Your eyes are glossy and your mind delirious as he continues to fuck you through your high, your walls milking him in a way that has him quickly climbing towards his release.

With only a few more erratic thrusts that have you whining under him in overstimulation, his cock twitches suddenly as his entire load fills you up, mixing with your juices and dripping out of your swollen lips down your thighs that Sukuna is still holding up.

He moans as he slowly lets your body go and you sink to the mattress, panting beneath him as his cock slips from between your thighs. His eyes flicker to your pretty pussy, his cum leaking out with each pulse of your walls. His chest heaves as well as he slowly gets to his feet and walks to the side of the bed, sliding up against the headboard.

Sukuna pulls your body up from where you’ve collapsed, wrapping his arms around you as his sweat-slicked skin sticks to yours. He’s much gentler now, looking you over for any signs that he might have hurt you accidentally, but when you finally open your eyes, they’re glossy with pleasure and filled with adoration.

He can’t help the way he genuinely smiles, not a common thing for the tepid biker, but when you grin and giggle in return, it makes his heart jump.

He practically turns to putty in your hands and as you silently bask in the afterglow of the best sex of your life and lean into Sukuna’s embrace.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” He asks after a moment and you’re surprised by the way his fingers softly graze your skin.

“You were great Kuna, don’t worry,” you answer, yawning afterwards.

He hums in relief, leaning his head back for a moment before taking it upon himself to get you cleaned up before you pass out. Grabbing a towel, he wipes your thighs and tosses the towel in a hamper at the edge of the room before pulling the covers over your figure and crawling in behind you.

“Ryo?”

Sukuna hums quizzically.

“Do I get to know how long now?”

“You’re a brat,” he growls in your ear as he pulls you flush against his chest, his arms folded around your middle.

“Yeah yeah, just answer the question,” you grouse, rolling your eyes. You have an inkling of a feeling that you know when he realized his feelings for you, but you’re curious nonetheless.

He sighs, knowing you’ll never let him live this down. “Dunno. It’s been a while,” he avoids the question.

You flip in his arms to face him with raised brows. He groans, avoiding your gaze.

“I guess around the time you got with your ex,” he admits, his eyes locked on the wall behind you as he tucks your head under his chin to avoid your intent gaze.

“Is that why you stopped seeing people?”

“You noticed?”

“Kuna, you had a new girl under your arm every time I saw you for a while.”

He grunts, pulling you tighter to his body.

Giggling, you kiss his collar bone. “That’s sweet.”

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as he lets out a long sigh. You can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up as you tease him, something that you’d only managed a handful of times in all the years you’ve known him.

“Sorry, am I embarrassing the big bad motorcycling bad boy?” You push, squeaking in protest as Sukuna wastes no time in shoving you away from him in an attempt to push you off the bed. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” You insist, looking to him for mercy as you cling to his arms, clutching desperately at the flexed muscles.

“And?”

“And…” you search for the words he’s looking to hear in his eyes, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t do it again?”

“And?”

“I’m sorry I ate the rest of your leftovers this morning?”

His brow furrows. Oh shit.

“I mean… no I didn’t. They’re still there,” you mumble, avoiding his judgemental gaze guiltily.

Sukuna’s hold on your shoulder begins to lax as you teeter at the edge of the bed, threatening to drop you to the floor. You scramble to try to grip him tighter.

“I’ll buy you new food!”

Sukuna sighs and drags you back to him. You let out a relieved puff of air against his chest, snuggling back into his warmth. “Jus’ wanted you to say when it was for you.”

You tilt your head up at him, only able to see his chin. “When what was?”

“You know. When you realized what you think of me or whatever.” Sukuna’s gruff tone is telling that he isn’t used to such sincere conversations. Although you’ve known him a long time and he’d told you about damn near every sexual encounter he’s had, Sukuna’s most record-breaking relationship was a shocking three months.

Of course, Sukuna isn’t a romantic, and she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was putting in effort, so it didn’t last long.

“Oh. When I realized I like you?”

He grunts.

You hum in thought, moments throughout your friendship scrolling through your mind like a slideshow.

Of course, your forefront thought is when Sukuna first stepped off that stupidly well taken care of Ducati and surprised you when he managed to not only get you home on a running bike, but let you buy him a drink. He’s always been ridiculously attractive, but no, those weren’t feelings.

You think of all the times you hung out with friends and they would point out his change in behavior. You’d always think on the statement, watch the way that aloof look of his turns mild when he faces you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.

You ponder on the time you’d called him on a whim early in your friendship when your date had bailed on you. Sukuna did not want to see the cheesy romance movie you had tickets for, but he’d sucked it up and shown up. You’d offered to buy him dinner as a thank you, but he paid regardless. It was the kind of thing a real date would do, but he’d complained so much you brushed the thought away.

When you were entirely too obsessed with Game of Thrones and insisted he be your king in a big fur cloak for Halloween, maybe then something had changed.

“You want me to be some guy from the show you like?” He’d grumbled and guffawed over having to dress up at all, insisting he’d been planning to put in minimal effort.

“Pleaaase, Kuna?” You were practically on your knees by the time he’d agreed with a roll of his eyes. “You’d make a good Robb Stark,” you insist before second-guessing yourself. “Well, if he was grumpy and kind of a dick.” You shrug, grinning up at him as he shoots you a begrudging look through narrowed eyes.

It only takes you a few days to put together the costume given the abundance of medieval king and knight costumes around.

His arms cross over his rugged chest, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut by the movement. “You can’t be serious.” He stares at the tight faux leather coat you hand him with a scowl.

“He wears something similar!”

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Please, you said you would!” You pout at him as you sport your best puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

You jut your bottom lip out, taking a step towards him as you shove the leather top to his chest. His eyes narrow, gears turning in his head until he shuts his eyes, giving in.

Your eyes light up as he pulls the top from you, groaning as he pulls it on over his shirt. It’s tight on him, which you expected given Sukuna’s sheer size, but it’s a strangely hot look on your rugged best friend. Even more so when he lets you drape the cape over his shoulders and set a cute little crown on his head.

“No, absolutely not,” he hisses, slapping your hand away when you try to clip the crown in place with a bobby pin.

“You’re such a pain,” you tease as you try again, holding an extra pin between your teeth.

Standing back, you admire your work as you receive a very unamused look in return. Sukuna’s build makes for a very kingly stature in spite of the contrasting tattoos and it makes him hot. In fact, you’re half afraid someone will whisk him away at the Halloween party given how nicely he’s cleaned up.

Your lips twitch downwards at the thought. You don’t want him to be whisked away. You want your king by your side.

“So?”

Snapping you from your thoughts, your eyes light up again. “You look great,” you tell him with a grin. His eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize.

He hums, examining your expression. “Well, go get ready then. Gonna sweat through all this leather n’ shit.”

“Oh like you aren’t used to leather,” you roll your eyes, but you oblige, getting your matching Talisa Stark outfit on.

When you return to Sukuna sitting on his couch, you muster your best impression of your character. “My king?”

Your best friend’s attention turns to you, eyes widening as you approach him in a floor-length queen’s gown with a matching gray cloak and a crown pinned into your hair. “Shit, y’ look good,” he breathes out.

Your cheeks heat up and you scratch at the back of your neck. “Thanks, Kuna.” You clear your throat and your mind to the best of your ability as you offer him a hand. “Ready?”

He hums, taking your hand before grabbing his keys and offering you his arm. “My queen?”

You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the first spark. The first real spark. As he loosened up throughout the night and repetitively called you his princess, you knew you were spent. Each and every time he used the name had you giggling up a storm and while you’d brushed it off as intoxication at the time, you knew the truth deep down.

So when he’d returned to his aloof self the following morning, you swallowed down your feelings.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend and he didn’t have a good track record with relationships. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared, even now.

“Halloween,” you utter finally, unsure of just how long you’ve been silently contemplating an answer in his arms.

“Figures,” his chest rumbles in brief laughter.

“You knew?”

“Nah, thought it was the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. That’s why I started dating other people.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond but he buries his face into the crown of your head, drinking in your warmth, your intoxicating scent, and your soft skin against his as he closes his eyes.

No more other people, you’re his.

“Was it me callin’ you my princess?” He asks of the night you realized you’d caught feelings.

“That, and you make a good Robb Stark.”

He snorts. “I remember being told I was a dick.”

You shrug, smiling against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t retract that statement.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and warmth spreads through your body as you relax against him, eyes closing as exhaustion spreads across you like a warm blanket. You know the kiss is a sassy retort, but it shamelessly works on you.

“Fine. I retract my statement.”

“That’s my princess.”

–

“Can you stop moving so much?”

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna’s got an attitude today and he absolutely plans on making it your problem as he huffs.

Your gloved hands work carefully to thoroughly cover every last strand of his short hair with dye. You know very well the only reason he’s being such a menace today is because you’d suggested a change in color and he’s afraid it’ll look bad.

In all your years of knowing him, he’s always had the same pink hair, so you were thrilled he was allowing you the honor of dying it back to its original color, black. You’d actually insisted on orange or red, but black was the only thing he was willing to compromise on.

You make your way back around him and find his scowling face looking up at you. Covering the last few strands of hair over his forehead, you boldly sit on his lap.

His demeanor changes in an instant as you straddle him and his hands eagerly find your hips and begin roaming up your waist and back down to your thighs. You shoot him a warning glance as you accidentally smudge some black dye on his forehead, but he pays you no mind as he continues his ministrations.

“Kuna,” you warn sternly, trying to wipe off the black marking before it leaves a stain, but it’s too late. You sigh and look over your work.

“Just a quickie, c’mon,” he insists with a grin.

“I don’t want to be covered in black dye,” you retort and Sukuna groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “How long do I gotta wait?”

“Thirty minutes.”

He frowns, eyes following your movements as you pull off your gloves and throw them in the trash of your shared apartment. He can’t for the life of him tear his eyes from you as you proceed to wash your hands before grabbing a damp towelette to wipe at his forehead.

Suddenly feeling like a child as you take care of the marking on his forehead, he swats at your hand.

“You’re a menace,” you mutter, avoiding his hand with practiced precision as you wipe away any traces of hair dye from his face.

He smirks, he likes the way you tease him and if anything it only makes him want to bend you over the table more.

Still, when you pull back to inspect his face and leave a gentle peck on his lips, he knows you don’t mind his attitude.

You know it’s all a ruse of sorts. Not around others, but around you it is.

Dating him for so many years came with its fair share of complications, especially given that Sukuna’s communication skills were about as good as those of a rock. He often didn’t pick up on small signs that you were bothered by things and vice versa, as he’s a tough book to read.

Regardless of any small arguments, nothing ever got out of hand surprisingly. You can’t imagine your life if Sukuna hadn’t shown up to get you the night your ex kicked you out. What Sukuna lacked in the department of emotional understanding, he made up for with his actions.

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

Each and every ‘I love you’ is met with a kiss, a squeeze of your arm, a tug towards him.

Sukuna has his own way of showing you he loves you.

He picks you up from work with flowers, shocking those around you when the grumpy-looking tattooed man hands you flowers that surely won’t make it home in great condition on his bike, but it doesn’t matter.

He runs you a bath when he fucks you into oblivion and your legs give out. It may be his own hand that inflicted your weakness, but it doesn’t matter because he shows you just how much he cares for you through his aftercare routine.

He makes your coffee with far too much milk and sugar for his own taste and complains about it the whole time, but it doesn’t matter because he still does it every morning for you.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

When it comes time to wash his hair, he closes his eyes when you help him wash it in the sink. Your fingers move so delicately, taking care to wash out all the dye.

When he dries his hair with a towel and sees the way you delight at the sight of his freshly jet-black hair, he chuckles.

“Why do you never grow your hair out?” You ask, running your hands through his spiked hair. The color suits him and brings out his eyes in the most stunning way, you’re sure you have stars in your eyes from the way you’re staring at him.

“Dunno. The other color looks good,” he shrugs.

��It does!” You agree with a grin, “but so does this!” You insist. “It’s hot.”

He hums, looking himself over in the mirror. In truth, he doesn’t mind it. He only really indulged you because you’d insisted, but it worked out given what he had in mind for the night. It would look good in photos.

“When is Shiu getting here?” You ask curiously, interrupting Sukuna’s thoughts as your short arms wrap around his middle from behind.

“Hour from now.”

You gasp suddenly. “I need to clean up.”

“I can clean you up,” Sukuna smirks, lifting his arms in an attempt to see your face from where you stand behind him.

“Kunaaa,” you whine. “I need time to get ready.”

He groans dramatically. “Fine,” he grumbles, watching as you prance away happily to get ready.

You, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Shiu, and Uraume were all going out in celebration of Toji’s newest addition to his family, a young boy. It was surprising that he was the first to settle down, but when you’d met his wife, you could see that she was his world, the way he relaxed at her touch and his own edge calmed in the same way Sukuna’s does around you.

Sukuna lays on his bed, watching as you choose a gorgeous black dress that hugs your curves so delectably that he wants to tear it off of you then and there. The whole time, he fumbles with something in his pocket, grateful when you don’t notice the small box accidentally fall from his grasp and onto the bed.

You chat with him about your work the whole time. Sukuna’s mind is elsewhere but given that he’s never all that chatty, you don’t notice. Looking yourself over in the mirror, you let out a relieved breath when you manage to be ready with only a couple of minutes to spare.

“Y’ look gorgeous.” Sultry words are whispered in your ear, followed up by a kiss to your neck as your boyfriend comes up behind you. His hands rest softly on your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, bending down to your height.

You watch his actions from the mirror, the way his lidded eyes look over the curves of your figure, the way he slides his arms so delicately around your middle to envelop you in a tight hug, it’s these moments that you treasure the most.

The quiet moments where you simply enjoy one another’s presence.

Your lives are so busy that you don’t always get time to yourselves, so melting into his arms in that moment, you wish it would last forever.

Of course forever is a long time, and Shiu certainly doesn’t have the patience to wait in his car that long for you both. You’re not entirely sure why Sukuna doesn’t want to take your bikes, but you don’t push the subject. Your boyfriend’s mind is a mysterious place.

Your group gathers at a restaurant that’s a bit fancy for everyone’s tastes, but Uraume had insisted on it given the occasion. The real surprise was that Sukuna had dressed up a bit as well, sporting a sleek black pair of slacks, a black long sleeve button-up, and a red tie. His ensemble went well with your black dress.

Over the years, Sukuna’s friends had become your friends, long before you started dating, even.

Choso and Yuji were like your little brothers, and Uraume and Toji your closest drinking buddies. They got along surprisingly well with your friends too, especially Choso and Yuji who, unlike Sukuna, seemed to have a talent for getting along with everyone. Shiu generally only tagged along when Toji was around, but their banter was always welcome.

As Toji shows off photos of his son Megumi alongside his daughter Tsumiki, you notice Sukuna whispering something to Choso, casting oddly uneasy glances in your direction. Frowning, you glance over yourself once as though there’s something wrong with your outfit. No… it looks fine. So what’s Sukuna being so secretive about?

You brush it off as nothing, sure you’re overthinking things… until he pulls Toji aside after the man finishes showing off photos of his son.

You tilt your head quizzically to Uraume as you lean over towards them, ensuring Sukuna can’t hear you.

“Is Kuna acting weird to you?”

“Yes,” Uraume follows your gaze, narrowing their eyes. “Perhaps he misses Toji?”

“Are we talking about the same person?” A small smirk quirks up the corners of your lips.

Uraume laughs lightly with you. “You’re right,” they agree, but the thought doesn’t leave your mind.

It’s not like Sukuna doesn’t have off days like everyone else, but this is a strange change of demeanor for him. He seems strangely fidgety, as though he can’t sit still. His leg had bounced under the table throughout most of dinner and he was strangely eager to get the bill.

He had been horny all day, the best guess you have is that maybe it’s that and he wants to get home.

Still, it doesn’t explain him being so secretive throughout the night. In fact, he’d barely spoken a lick to you. Which isn’t entirely uncommon, but in place of words he would normally find comfort in your touch. Yet tonight it felt as though you’d hardly seen him despite sitting next to him most of the night.

You resort to asking him about it later, though an uneasy feeling tugs at you the more you notice it.

You’re almost grateful the dinner is over when it is as you intertwine your fingers with Sukuna like nothing is wrong. Shiu leads the way across the expanse of grass by the restaurant to his car one lot over, chatting with Toji as you and your boyfriend trail behind.

With Choso and Uraume a short distance behind you, you figure now is as good of a time to ask as any.

“Is everything alright, baby?” You tilt your head to look at your boyfriend.

Something glimmers in his eyes, an emotion you don’t recognize. That’s odd.

“‘Course.”

Well, that’s not reassuring.

“Okay… Nothing’s wrong?”

He shoots you a small smirk, kissing the top of your head.

“Nothin’s wrong, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

You sigh, unable to help the feeling that he has something up his sleeve, but also able to recognize that whatever he’s plotting, he clearly has no intention of telling you. Regardless, you’re relieved that his nonchalant attitude seems to have returned. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about after all.

You miss the way he glances between the two groups, nodding to both as you sigh and give in.

“Alright, Kuna. I love you.”

Sukuna stops to face you and you blink at him perplexedly. Time seems to stand still as his chest rises and falls so quickly, he’s sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he fumbles in his pocket for a moment.

You open your mouth to question him but your words die on your tongue when your boyfriend swallows hard before making a quick movement down onto one knee and your eyes go wide, your heart pounding in tandem with his.

It’s just the two of you in that moment, all sounds drowned out by beating hearts, lights and movement a blur behind you both. Everything is just Sukuna. Just you.

“Y/n,” he begins hoarsely. His voice shakes slightly and he curses himself for it but he doesn’t dare look away from your gorgeous wide eyes.

Your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. It feels as though it could choke you and you swallow hard but it only seems to encourage the tears you had yet to notice welling in your eyes.

“I had this whole speech planned,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Practiced n’ everything.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you bring one up to your mouth to suppress your shock and awe when he pulls out a small red velvet box.

“But I don’t think that shit's for me. So I decided to keep it simple.”

Nestled delicately within the box is a gorgeous silver ring with a beautiful diamond held delicately in the center. The ring splits into three separate parts just before the gem that all twist with smaller jewels around the metal.

“Marry me?”

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

From the way he holds you to the way he listens and kisses you between words. From the way he brings you lunch at work when you forget to the way he drives more carefully when you’re cuddled behind him on his bike.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

And you love him too.

“Yes!”

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; please follow/like/reblog/share if you enjoyed ♡

writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight and © cafekitsune.

[selineram3421]

can I make a request for an Alastor x reader? Where y/n is Husk's sibling and Alastor won't stop flirting with y/n and Husk is just not having it? (And the rest of the HH crew are just in the background shipping Alastor and y/n)

*swipes up* Cat Demon Reader!!!! FUCK YEAH!

Hissy Kitty

Prologue

Alastor X Reader

Warnings⚠

⚠ cussing, protective older brother Husk, Alastor loves annoying your brother, italics = thoughts ⚠

Husk was very protective of you and made sure you were taken care of. In Living and afterlife, he kept you out of his "business" to keep you safe.

Of course you surprise him by showing up at the hotel.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?"

"Surprise!", you cheered and gave your older brother a hug.

He didn't want you anywhere near his work. It was too risky. You would have been made a target. He didn't want HIM to know about you.

"Answer the question.", he grumbled but hugged you back.

"I haven't seen you in a while and I just wanted to-", you began, pulling back a bit from the hug, taking a look around the hotel lobby that was behind him.

"Look, I'll call you and tell you all about it but you need to go before-", he tried to get you to leave quickly.

"Husker!"

Shit.

He was pissed that he was too late.

"What are you doing trying to chase a guest out?", the demon in red walked over and pulled you into the hotel. "We are trying to invite them in."

"This one ain't looking to stay in the hotel!", your brother hissed and tried to pull you away from the red dressed demon.

You were suddenly spun and dipped by the man in red. It shocked you so much that you held onto the red demon tightly.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I am Alastor the facility manager.", Alastor grinned as he gazed down at you. "And who might you be?"

Such an adorable thing. He thought when seeing your ears pinned back and eyes having turned into slits, his grin widening when he noticed Husk getting angrier.

"Um..can you let me up now? This is a very weird way of greeting..", you squirmed, your tail flicking in annoyance.

After letting you go, Alastor took note of how bristled up the fur of his acquaintance was.

How interesting..

"Forgive me dear, I can get quite theatrical.", he laughed and fixed his bowtie. "And your name?"

"I'm-"

"Not staying.", Husk cut in. "They only came to see me, now back off."

"What the hell, can't I greet a demon?", you huffed.

Your brother pulls you away to speak in private.

"Not this one! This prick is someone I don't want you hanging around with.", he whispered growled, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Go home, put some wards or some shit for protection and don't come back here again!"

"Damn it Husk!", you slapped his hands away. "I came here to check up on you!"

Alastor stays where he is to enjoy the show. Glancing to the side when seeing Angel step into the lobby.

"Its been years! I haven't heard from you until two weeks ago about this place. Where have you been!? Do you know how worried I was!?"

"Psst! Smiles! Who the fuck is kitty whiskers?", the spider asks.

"Haven't the faintest idea but this argument is getting amusing.", he responds.

"I told you that I moved! That should be enough!", Husk gestured to the hotel.

"Yeah, its nice to know you're alive but you could have at least told me how you've been! Did you make any new friends? Did you drink until you blacked out again? Something else for fucks sake!", you yelled.

"I'm alive!", your brother yelled back. "I drank yesterday!", he pushed you towards the door. "I don't have friends!", he opened the door. "Now leave!"

"Tsk tsk!", Alastor tutted and used his shadows to pull you away from the door, moving you into his hold. "They are our guest, even if they are just visiting Husker~"

The Radio Demon's smile growing bigger when he saw the cat clench his fists.

"You are welcome to visit anytime to see this-", the red demon gestures to your brother. "-hissy kitty that you know."

"Ha!", you quickly covered your mouth to keep your laugh silent.

"A smile! Finally!", Alastor leaned closer to you. "I'd like to see it if you don't mind."

"Back off!", Husk pushed the red dressed demon away and took your hand. "Come on, I'll show you around."

"I can stay!?", you asked your brother.

"Only for a few hours!", he replied.

You stayed longer than a few hours.

Charlie had caught wind and was excited to meet you.

Husk drank from his bottle, watching as you talked to the Princess and Vaggie. The two were hooked on whatever story you were telling.

"So Husky~", Angel slid over.

"Don't you fucking call me that ever again.", the cat grumbled before continuing to drink.

"Who's the new cat strolling about?", the spider asked. "I've never seen you so pushy with someone before~ Are they an ex?"

"None of your business and ew. Fuck no.", Husk wiped his mouth after he finished the bottle. "Forget about them. They need to leave anyway.", he said before walking over to you.

.

"Hi Husk!", you waved as you entered the hotel.

"Fucking shit. What did you not understand about staying away!?"

You had a smug grin and pranced over to him.

"Can't really stay away from where I work~", you said and showed your employment papers.

"What.", your brother growled.

"While I was talking to the Princess during the tour, you stepped out for a bit and I told her I wanted to work here!", you beamed, cat tail swaying calmly. "So now I can't leave! Yay!"

"Are you fucking stupid!?", Husk yelled.

"Now Husker.", Alastor appeared from the shadows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "That is no way to talk to your fellow coworker."

The Radio Demon smiled cheekily when seeing the cat demon's fur bristle in anger.

"Let's show you all of the staff rooms!", he said suddenly and turned you towards the stairs. "There are quite a few closets littered about for cleaning supplies! For now that is what you'll do with Niffty until the Princess can think of where to put you."

"Is there any cleaning supplies?", you asked a little suspicious.

"Haven't a clue! But let's find out!"

You were near Alastor most of the day.

Husk actually followed you both until the "tour" ended.

"And that is all of the cleaning closets so far!", the red man grinned.

All of you were now standing in one of the many hallways. The fourth floor if you remember.

"Thank you for pointing them out.", you removed his hand from your shoulder. "Little less of that if you don't mind."

"Oh! I didn't even notice.", Alastor held his hands behind his back. "Do remind me if I slip again."

Husk quickly took you away from the red demon and walked you towards the lobby.

"Look, I'm glad you're here. Really. But its not safe for you to be around that smiling asshole.", your brother hissed.

"Husk, I'm not as clueless as you think I am.", you sigh and shook his arm off. "I'll keep myself safe.", you finish and walk away.

The cat demon stayed behind, groaning as he slides his hand down his face, feeling on edge, tired, and annoyed all at once.

"I've never seen you around a demon like them~", Alastor appears from the shadows. "And you're so protective!", he walks in front of the cat demon. "What a good older brother you are.", he leans back and spins his head to look at the demon.

"Don't you fucking try anything!", Husk threatens.

The Radio Demon laughs and stands up straight. "We'll have to go over our deal again!", he says while fixing his coat. "I hope you added their protection in."

"You piece of shit-!", Husk extends his claws and opens his wings up.

"I must be off! Who knows what trouble the guests have gotten into already!", Alastor walks away from the angry cat.

The Radio Demon hummed as he walked down the hallway, a slight skip in his step as his smile grew wider.

Oh how entertaining~

I love cats💕 Also this is turning into a short story because Husk is gonna be hella pissed.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @+?

ML for Alastor🎙 | ChL for HK😾

[pomefioredove]

a-yo there, Claudette! how ya' doin'? could I ask a request with the overblot gang like this: they are flirting with reader, in some case is more boldly, another is smoothly or a 'smart'/well thought out flirt, (because i'm SURE that leona and vil don't flirt the same, or blue and idia, for example). reader blushes a lot and looks away. after a second of silence, reader flirts back just as smoothly, slyly or boldly. how do the 7 primors react? 💗💗

thanks in advance! take care<3

oooh- yes, of course!! I had fun with this. it also occurs to me how bad most of them would be at flirting...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the boys do a flirt

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

anyone here familiar with Victorian courting rules?

well, Riddle is

he is alllll about etiquette

literally "no hand holding before marriage"

the boldest he gets is with... flowers

for what he can't say or do outright, he can convey in floriography

daisies for loyalty, pink camellia for longing...

if he's feeling bold, he may add a lavender sprig or two

now, imagine his surprise when you send him a red orchid...

his face blushes the same color as the flower and he gets all giggly

going around Heartslabyul, saying he's got to send you a red rose back

...as if anyone knows what that means

(everyone in his dorm thinks you're both crazy)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is the god of avoidance

he would rather crawl on his hands and knees through sewage than be honest with himself about his feelings

so, what does he do when he knows he's falling for you?

bullies you

like, lovingly

it's just easy for him to banter and push you around

he will call you short no matter what your height is, let himself into your room to sleep on your bed and make direct eye contact with you while he knocks your things off your desk

like... petty cat behavior

he was not anticipating you to reciprocate

man, you have a mouth on you

the things you say... color him impressed

honestly, he likes you even more than before

...which now makes avoiding his feelings impossible... crap

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unfortunately I think Azul's best attempt at flirting is staring at you across a crowded room

he's a flatterer by default, but, like, he actually likes you

he knows how to get someone into a contract, but not how to ask you out on a date

funny, right?

well, not for him

it takes all of his courage just to say you look nice

Sevens, what is wrong with him?

you make him feel like an utter fool... so, of course, he has to compensate

now, when he's around you, he becomes smarter, more interesting, and about three times as pretentious

to impress you. obviously

then you match his energy and he's right back to square one

who knew he could get so easily flustered?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil doesn't "flirt"

...at least, that's what he tells himself

before you, he'd simply never had a reason to. now...

how hard can it be, right?

and, well, he's not half-bad at it

Jamil knows how to keep his cool, and flattery is his second language

and he gets a chance to show off a little...

perfect, right?

well...

he can never seem to surprise you

every hint he tries, every subtle compliment and little smirk, you have something equally as crafty

...not what he had in mind, but, hey

the psychological warfare makes flirting much more interesting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is, perhaps, the only person here who actually knows what he's doing

not that he's used to flirting

he just... knows how to talk to people

he's always quite subtle about it

forward advances are tasteless, if you'd ask him

he tends to flirt in subtle, but meaningful ways

that is, he makes his intentions known through touch

nothing aggressive, of course

a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, a brush of his hand against yours, an arm around your waist...

just enough to fluster you (which he so enjoys doing)

imagine his surprise, then, when you start touching him back

wordlessly holding his hand, sitting close enough to him to feel your shoulder against his...

he'll admit, he admires your boldness

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the only "you" that Idia is flirting with is a chat bot he programmed to talk like you

I mean WHAT who said that

he DEFINITELY does not have that. haha... that'd be like, super creepy...

on that note, he also definitely DOES NOT obsessively study your words and mannerisms to better understand you

...well...

listen, he just doesn't know how to approach you!

you're so... you! and he's so... him

so, he'd much rather watch your every move and fantasize about being able to actually... talk to you...

he is, understandably, terrified when you approach him

...even more so when you seem to know about him and all his interests...

???

...you know what? he's not even going to think about it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus can be a little... old-fashioned

and by that I mean Briar Valley old-fashioned

he was taught how to court by Lilia, of all people, so you know whatever he's doing is...

...strange

and he's somewhat aware of it, too

he just thinks it'd be even stranger for him to flirt with you like...

well... you get it

everyone else

he is, however, pleasantly surprised when you seem to know what he's doing

you've been reading up on Briar Valley customs, and recognized his courting rituals pretty much right away

...not that you're going to tell him that

reciprocating his flirtations is more fun when he doesn't see it coming

he makes that one surprised face every time

like this -> o_o

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 21.5K pregnancy kink, a LOT of dialogue ngl, third person pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, daddy kink, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, dad! toji, sweet! toji, talks of self-image, aggressive toji, daddy toji, baby megumi, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑧𝑒 ; 𝑆𝑍𝐴

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i don’t wanna get all self deprecating, this didn’t feel like my best work, but this is the second part to the first fic ever wrote, and i missed my seioni, toji + megumi pairing. it’s kinda long. sorry. i had to. enjoy, love you. 🫶🏽

AN INTERNAL THUMPING DRONES ALONG HER EARS AS HER SLENDER EYES GLANCE UP AT THE SCREEN. The gel along her stretched belly is cold against her skin, the hand of the doctor continuing to rub gently as she stared at the life growing inside of her. 

Her mind had been everywhere to say the least. This was the first time she’d been to an appointment by herself, having her friends hold a trembling hand as she got news about the journey of her pregnancy. She was trying to keep her attention along the doctor's voice as her anxieties whipped around her body like a tornado. But as the nurse walked in with a forced smile, purposely flipping the paper over into the doctor's hand, her attentiveness peaked. 

Her heart could’ve dropped as the same nurse gave her a rub to the shoulder, thoughts immediately going to the worst. Those worries pulled all together in preparation for an anxiety attack as the doctor placed his glasses down to look along the words, giving a hum at the results. 

Although she wanted to scream, she pulled it together and filled the silence within the room as she politely asked, “Uh…is something wrong, Doctor?”

The doctor glances up at her, giving a small smile to reassure her with a shake to his head, “No, nothing’s wrong, Seioni. The baby is fine as well,” he pats her thigh, seeing as that causes her to release the breath she’d been holding before he continues, “The only… hiccup would be that your blood pressure seems to be higher than normal.”

“Oh,” she says softly, “I didn’t realize.”

What was she supposed to say? She felt like she was in trouble, unsure of how to process that information. She hadn’t been feeling too bad—a couple of headaches here and there—she figured it was just her lack of eating. 

The doctor hums as he glances back at the paper, “How have you been feeling lately? How has the pregnancy been on you so far?” He asks, looking back at her.

“Good! I mean—as good as I can be,” she watches as the nurse comes to wipe her stomach, softly thanking her as she sits up. She knew that she might not have been telling the entire truth, but this also wasn’t a therapy session. Rubbing her belly had become a nail-biting replacement, seeing as the doctor then asks, “Do you still own your tattoo shop?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t work anymore. My fiancè takes care of everything, but for the most part the shop runs itself,” she briefly explains. 

The doctor nods understandingly. This still wasn’t a therapy session, but being her primary doctor and having that relationship with her, he couldn’t help but pry just a bit. 

 He hums, “That’s good to hear…” glancing at the ultrasound before looking back at her, “How has your home life been? How is your fiancé?”

That was the burning question. Officially being in a relationship with Toji taught her what it was like to be with a man, it scared her to open herself up to someone in a way she hadn’t in years. Not only did she never expect herself to actually end up with him, she damn sure didn’t expect to become a maternal figure to his son—Megumi—who was now freshly two-years old, hopping along for the ride of the relationship between his father and ‘Oni’’ as he’d call her. They all experienced a love between one another that blossomed as months passed—but that didn’t mean it didn’t have its…faults. 

Seioni sighed, tracing her fingers lightly against her belly before she replied, “My fiancé has a son, he just turned two. We’ve been potty training him and it’s been…a mess, no pun intended,” she lightly giggles, “He fusses a lot now since we’re trying to get him off of his pacifier, and he has trouble sleeping. I’ve also been trying to plan a wedding and baby shower by myself because my fiancè wants to make sure I have everything my way. On top of that I feel like a beluga whale, I can’t keep food down because I vomit at certain smells since my nostrils are similar to a dog now—do you know what dirt smells like? Seriously, I mean, have you smelled it? It's awful—but uh—As far as me and my fiancè, he’s been working a lot so…I don’t see much of him at times,” she realizes as everything sounds overwhelming, muttering a soft, “Sorry.”

The doctor gave a sympathetic look, understanding her situation. He sighs before he speaks again, giving a gentle smile to her, “You have a lot on your plate. You know what you’re experiencing are symptoms of stress, correct? That’s what’s causing your high blood pressure.”

Seioni knew that she could be a bit neurotic, but she didn’t realize that these things were genuinely putting her in a state of distress. Megumi’s growing pains, Toji’s lack of interest within the wedding and baby shower, and their lack of intimacy whether it was in the bedroom or out of it. Maybe she just needed some dick—or a box of tissues. 

“What does your husband do for work?” 

She blinks, not ever having an answer for that question. She then convinced herself, “Uh—contractor. Yup, contractor.” 

“Maybe you should suggest for him to take some time off of work then. But regardless, this is a beautiful situation. You have a baby girl coming, you're planning a baby shower, and your wedding will be soon, correct?” 

“Yes, I’m thinking Italy,” she nods, seeing as that makes the doctor warmly smile. 

She thinks to herself, this is a happy time. So why the hell did she feel so…mundane? 

She blinks, raising her eyes up to him as she nods, “I guess I didn’t realize I was stressing myself out that badly. Am I…harming my baby?” She worries, eyebrows furrowing as she lets out a deep breath.

“No, no. You’re not harming your baby in any way. I’m just worried for you. Both mentally and physically.” He reassured her, “It seems your blood pressure is fine now and everything else is normal. You just need to make sure you don’t stress yourself out anymore as your pregnancy progresses. Let me ask, are you and your fiancè intimate?”

She raises her eyes, feeling her face go lightly warm as she repeats, “Intimate as in…sex? Is that really okay during pregnancy?”

He gave a small laugh, a little flustered that it was even a question as he soothes, “Yes, dear. It’s perfectly fine, healthy for you and the baby. It also increases the production of oxytocin—“ he pauses as he sees her face fill with confusion before he explains, “The ‘love’ hormone, essentially. It reduces pregnant stress, improves sleep, and temporarily masks aches and pains. Sex, bonding, and an increase in endorphins help a pregnant woman sleep better to combat exhaustion and other griping pregnancy symptoms.” 

When he sees that she still has a hesitation along her face, he gives her a gentle touch along her shoulder as he says, “No stressing, okay? How about I prescribe you some Lexapro? You can take them as needed, not anything you have to worry about fitting into your schedule.”

Seioni immediately knew that if Toji wasn’t such a damn workaholic, he’d be under her like a baby attached to a nipple—already having a small disagreement about her taking anything that wasn’t her prenatals. He’d dealt with a pregnant woman before, wanting to make sure she was as healthy as possible. But shit, he didn’t know everything, did he?

“…I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have. I’d just be worried if taking anything other than my prenatal might be harmful,” she tells him honestly.

He nods, understanding her concern. He sits down on a stool after he pulls it near her before breaking down, “That’s normal. Let me reassure you that Lexapro— a SSRI—Selective-serotonin-reuptake inhibitor— is safe for both pregnant women as well as their babies. It’s been shown that only 1% of the medication is passed on to the fetus during delivery, and that is an extremely small percentage. It’s deemed completely safe.”

She lets out a deep breath, realizing that she’s once again stressing herself out about things that don’t have to be overwhelming to her. This should’ve been the time where she rested, being seven months pregnant made her feel like she was going to explode. 

She then nods her head as she exhales, “Thank you so much, doctor. Me and my little boo boo feel so blessed to have you,” she gives him a soft smile, rubbing her belly happily.

 “It’s my pleasure. You’ be sure to take care of yourself, okay?” He teased her a little, standing back up on his feet, “I’ll call that prescription in and the pharmacy should have it ready for you by the time you get there,” As he goes to help her off the table, he adds on, “Oh, and your fiancé should be expecting a call from me as well.”

“Uh, why? If you don’t mind me asking?” She places her hand along the bottom of her stomach, letting out a tired breath as she pulls herself up to stand.

The doctor chuckled lightly as he saw the small struggle and helped her stand, saying, “It’s nothing worrisome. Just gonna let him know about your prescription,” He tells her, “He’ll need to know about your blood pressure as well.”

Shit. She was hoping that she could at least talk to him about the prescription first, knowing that when he meant something, he meant it. She pulls her smile lines up to hold a happy expression on her face, nodding as she repeats, “Yeah, of course. Thank you again.” 

The moment she leaves the doctors office, she soaks in his words, taking them into consideration. This should’ve been the happiest time for her. The only stress should have been picking out names, choosing colors for her bridesmaids dresses, and creating a registry for the perfect gifts. Another issue she’d been facing was the insecurities she felt within her own body changing. Her nose was wider than usual, her hips were now actually child bearing, and her belly walked in the room before she did. What if she wasn’t attractive anymore? 

On the opposite end, Toji drowned in her scent, wanting to eat her alive each time he saw her—if only she knew that. She wasn’t sure why her face was warm as she clutched the olive green baby doll dress, standing within Victoria Secret as the cashier rudely eyed her belly more than she needed to. 

“‘Fuck are you looking at?” She said before she thought about it, the cashier quickly dropped her eyes back to the lingerie as she shoved it into the bag. 

Finally making her way back home, she thanks the babysitter as she sends her off for the rest of the day. She thinks to herself as she’s within the kitchen taking out the steak that she plans to cook, realizing these issues wouldn’t feel as big if she had Toji’s full support. 

It's not that he wasn’t trying to help. He just wanted everything her way, she was his princess. He assumed that letting her handle these tasks would keep her busy since she complained about not working. She hoped that once Megumi went to bed, she could have some…alone time with Toji. But as she was now sat across from Megumi who refused to pee in the toilet, her track of time was off, and she wasn’t sure if her mission would be a success. She sat on the phone with her mom, listening to her complain about her older brother’s constant circle of women he presented to their father and aunt.  Even through her amusement, she couldn’t help that she deeply missed them all, although they could sometimes be…something. 

“Your stupid-ass-big-headed ass brother has brought the second girl over here this week, talking about ‘This the one for real Ma’,’ boy, please. And the girls be’ cute, too! If only they had a brain. I tell them to run! Shoes off! Barefoot! Why didn’t you just let me ship him off to your place and move into your old condo?”

“Because he would have to pay rent, which would require him to have a job,” she emphasizes, “You let Nova eat, sleep and shit in your house for free. If you gave his’ ass responsibility he’d explode.”

“What you’ tryna say, lil’ girl? Don’t make me smack you through this phone.”

“Hitting a pregnant woman? Have some decorum,” she chuckles, “But you know exactly what I’m saying, momma. That’s your pride and joy, you need to take him off the nipple and kick him out, have him shack up with his thousands of bitches. I love my brother to death, but he can’t be living under you his whole life.”

“How about you worry about the baby in your belly and the one in front of you who refuses to pee?”

Her eyes immediately met with the familiar gray ones she saw within her fiancé’s. His fat olive cheeks are currently a tint of red as his arms cross below him, dark hair spruced all around his head as he frowned across from her, sitting on his teddy bear decorated makeshift toilet. 

“Have you been taking the fish oil pills I sent?”  her mother asks.

Seioni frowns, “Yuck. Everything except those. I can barely keep food down, do you want me to vomit?” 

She then turns her head back towards Megumi as she sighs, “C’mon, Sweetface. You said ‘Oni, pee!’ earlier.”

Another issue that they faced, with Megumi being two, in comparison to other children there was a…slowness to his ability to speak. They thought he’d be farther in his journey, understanding more than he could reply. But it wasn’t an end of the world issue. It was something that was brought up in conversation when it came to Toji’s ability to teach him, but that conversation quickly ended. One thing everyone knew—Toji didn’t play about his child. 

Megumi shakes his, saying, “No, no, no!” as he wiggles his way from the toilet. 

Her mother hears their little argument as she asks, “Meg’ giving you a hard time with potty training again?” 

“As always,” Seioni sighs. 

“How about you give him treats for it?” 

Seioni frowns, “Jesus, he’s not a dog, momma. And I don’t want him thinking that the only way you accomplish things is immediately receiving an award for them.” 

She sighs as she looks at Megumi, “I wish you were here, mommy. You had me and Nova potty trained before we were even counting. How’s Dad? And Aunt Celeste?”

Her mother heard the longing tone of her daughter’s words and immediately sympathized. Her daughter always had a close relationship with her family, so it was expected for her to miss them. 

“Your father’s fine. He’s in the backyard tending to the garden like he says he’s going to do every summer,” she replied, slightly amused by her over-the-top husband, “And Celeste is somewhere in her room caked-up on the phone with her many boyfriends. Probably where Nova’s slutty ass gets it from.” 

Seioni laughs lightly as she smiles, just envisioning her father out in the garden every summer with a ridiculous sunhat and shorts, a gardening shovel in his hand as the sweat glistens on his body. She also envisioned her aunt, boisterous laugh as she twirled her hair to any man’s attention. This conversation was only aiding her home-sickness, she felt her stomach beginning to ache.

She brings her eyes back to Megumi, staring over him as he sits silently along the toilet. She then says to him, “Megumi, pee?” 

Megumi gives a pout, his chin quivering as he mutters out, “No-potty!” his little hands curling up into fists. He refused to use the toilet, and only wanted to use his pull-ups. 

Seioni huffs, running her hand through her hair, “Oh my hell, just pee, Megumi,” she told him as her mother laughed through the call.

“Eat-eat!” He then soundlessly calls out. 

Seioni raises an eyebrow as she crosses her arms, “No eat-eat, Megumi doesn’t want to pee!”

“He sounds just like his father. Stubborn as hell,” her mother laughs as she hears her daughter and grandchild from the phone. 

Seioni sighs as she rolls her eyes, but with a slight laugh as she agrees, “Yeah, exactly like his father…” She sighs once again before saying, “Megumi, you get no food until you pee!” She told him.

“Does he do this all the time?”

“Girl, yes. He only listens to Toji. Probably cause’ he’s scary. But he wanna take advantage of his ‘Oni’,” Seioni rolls her eyes. 

Megumi’s eyes were wide as a look of horror came across his face. He refused to pee, but he also wanted to eat. He’d only just recently gotten rid of his bottles and had been eating actual, solid food now. 

He began to pout heavily, tears slowly gathering in his eyes before he replied with a quiet, “Oni’, Hungry.” as he held his belly, as if to further his point.

Although she tried to get better with not allowing his cries to defeat her, she couldn’t help but soften at that olive toned face going red in the cheeks, swelling as his doe eyes dropped tears. 

She then muttered into the phone, “Fuckin’ hell, Momma, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Seioni’s mother chuckles over the line, hearing the annoyance in her daughter’s voice. “Okay,” she replies, “You better make sure Toji’s big headed ass is sitting with Megumi by the toilet the minute he gets home, you shouldn’t be the only one doing this. You acting like more of a parent then he is!”

“Mom, please don’t start,” Seioni sighs, rolling her eyes as that was probably the twentieth time her mother told her that, “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” her mother replies as if she didn’t just throw shade at her fiancè, “Talk to you later. Bye, Megumi.”

The sound of her mom’s soft voice nearly makes her want to begin crying like Megumi, missing the warmth that she brings around her. She could be a pain in the ass at times—especially when it came to her feelings about Toji’s constant absence as of recently—but that was her mom regardless. 

Megumi’s attention is pulled away from his tears as he hears her voice through the phone, calling out a small, “Bye, Bye” before Seioni hangs up the call.

Seoni places the phone down, raising her arms as she sighs, “C’mon. Oni’ is sorry, okay? Just need you to pee without your diaper one of these days.”

Megumi slowly lifted himself up from the toilet and pouted more as he muttered, “No potty,” he wasn’t going to give in to her just yet.

She had her own transgressions with the fact that Megumi had a hard time listening to her when it came to potty-training, and it was even more frustrating that the only person he listened to at times was his father. She loved Megumi like he was her own, but she knew that her not actually being his mother might’ve clued into their issues. 

“Eat-eat?” She raises an eyebrow, pulling his pamper up along his hips as she kisses him against his tear filled cheek, standing with a groan as she places him along the side of her hip.

“Eat-eat,” Megumi nodded heavily. 

His little hands clutched along her shirt as he began to sob softly, his pouts becoming more intense. His face began to become more red as tears fell more down his cheeks, staining a part of her shirt.

Seoni let out a sigh—this was gonna be a long night. 

She was halfway successful with her mission of cooking for Toji before he got home, making a wagyu steak with garlic buttered mash potatoes, only able to make a small salad for herself as she couldn’t handle anything too heavy on her stomach. Another thing she couldn’t stop crying about, nearly vomiting anything heavier than salads, sandwiches or liquids. She wasn’t sure what time he was coming home tonight, knowing that his job delved within ‘mafia/criminal’ activity, but never asking what he exactly did, just hoping he got home safely in the process. 

Once she fed Megumi and got him to finally go to sleep, she took the final step in her plans. She took a long shower, shaved her entire body, and lathered herself with baby oil and vanilla scented perfume. 

But as she stood in the baby doll dress, her breast spilled out the sides of the lace fabric, her round belly large  under the sheer gown—all of her insecurities came flooding in the warmth of her cheeks. She felt…unattractive.  

Once she changed into one of Toji’s oversized jerseys, she spent the next hour crying her eyes out, seated on the sofa as she bored into old pictures of herself. She cried so hard that she ended up knocking out, dozing off along the pillows unknowingly that she never took into account how late Toji finally came home. 

He was always terrible at entering the house. Heavy boots thumped along the floor, a low curse echoing along the walls as he stepped on one of Megumi’s toys trying to come inside. Due to her being a light sleeper, Seioni’s eyes slowly blank open, reflexively holding her belly as she looks at her fiancè. Toned arms, muscles bulging through his shirt as that dragon tattoo trailed around his left hand, now crawling under his shoulder and down his back. Dark hair and matching furrowed eyebrows frowned as he appeared behind the door, scarred lip twitching as his eyes fell over her figure. 

Seeing this man was like seeing him for the first time. Its like he’d almost gotten bigger in height and broadness, almost having to slouch for her consideration. Steel gray eyes were deadly, glares and stoic appearance making her want to melt within a constant.  A small scowl plays along his mouth—per usual—eyes flickering from the toy he just stepped on to the woman sleeping on the couch, journal nearly falling from her grasp as she begins to wake up. 

As soon as his eyes met hers though, his heart warmed a bit, relaxing slightly as his deep voice gruffly called, “Baby... What are you doing sleeping on the couch? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 

He takes his leather jacket off and slings it over the table, pausing as he picks it back up to hang along the coat rack by the door before Seioni can choke him out about it. He's already making his way over to her flawlessly beautiful figure, dark hair sticking along her toffee face as she adjusted to reawakening, feeling as her legs are being gently pulled over his lap. 

Her voice is soft and immensely quiet, “I…dozed off, uh…writing baby names. Remembering what the doctor told me,” she runs her fingers through her dark hair as she sighs, “Hi, Daddy.”

He gives a rumbling chuckle as he glances down at the journal, looking at her words before he glances back up to her, pulling her more onto his lap instead, “Hey, Mama,” he muttered back, his large hand lightly resting against her belly. 

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, aren’t you?” 

“Today was by default. Megumi gave me the blues trying to potty train him again, but I did end up making dinner for you,” she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his palms on her hips.

Toji lets out a small huff, “‘Boy is just as hard headed as I am, you know that. You’ll tire yourself out more trying to get him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” He gently pulled her closer, her legs on either side of his lap, wrapping an arm around her hips. 

“What’d you make? I’m starving,” he grunted out, his hand rubbing her hip, massaging it lightly.

“Wagyu steak and garlic mash potatoes, how Muffin likes it,” she playfully rolls her eyes, giggling as she feels his palm lightly smack along her ass from the nickname.

In regular fashion, he quickly grumbles, “I keep telling your ass I’m not your damn Muffin.” 

He then chuckled, “Smartass, but you know me so goddamn well, beautiful,” he teased nonetheless, giving her a grin as his hand rested comfortably along her hips. 

“Just like I know that you like being my Muffin, hm?” 

“Stop talking to me. Anyways, you know if you’re going to go through the effort of cooking, I need to go through the effort to reward you afterwards,” he travels his hand upward as he digs his fingers into her hair to clutch her forward, lips sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth. 

It made her sigh breathlessly, her face warm as a small giggle pulled from her lips, “Don’t I get a reward for just being the love of your life?”

He chuckled as he pulled away from her neck, his lips just centimeters away from hers as he told her, “It never ends with you, does it, woman? Always needing more from me.”

The constant realization with their lack of intimacy hits her again, a chill coursing down Seioni’s spine at the thought. But another chill came as she remembered not feeling as attractive as she usually did. She can tell that Toji feels her body tense, hoping he doesn’t press her reaction—she really didn’t want to end the night off in an argument about her own self conflicts. 

She nearly sighs in appreciation as he slows his movements down, hearing as he asks, “How was the doctor?” 

She raises her eyes as she squints, “The doctor called you today, Fushiguro. I’m assuming you missed it due to work.”

Toji nearly groaned at the news of her saying that the doctor called. He’d meant to answer them, but as of recently work had been busier. 

“Damn it, I knew I forgot something.” He muttered out, lightly pinching his nose, “What did they call about?”

“He wanted to tell you about my high blood pressure,” she lightly trails her finger along his arm, the dragon along the veined skin shining under the living room light.

His head raised up, “What’s causing you to have high blood pressure?” 

“He said I could just be stressing myself out, which—I know I am. He prescribed me Lexapro, I think I might try it out for a couple of days, see how it makes me feel.” 

She can practically feel the frown on his face before she sees it, keeping her eyes away from him as she attempts to move herself off of his lap. Key word, attempted. 

“You’re not taking those.”

She raises her eyebrows, “The doctor told me they were safe, Toji. I don’t think he’d give me anything if he knew I couldn’t take it.”

“You think I give a fuck about what the doctor said?” 

She rolls her eyes, not ready to go back and forth with him as his arm tightens around her hips, his fingers digging a bit harder into her curves as he speaks, “If it’s not a damn prenatal, I don’t want you taking anything else. I’m not risking shit happening to you. There’s better ways to control your blood pressure.”

“Like what? Not stressing myself? That’s easier said than done. Who else wouldn’t be stressed if they had a baby in their terrible twos, a baby in their belly—then planning a wedding and baby shower all at once?” She raises an eyebrow.

“What the fuck does that have to do with you taking some dumbass shit like Lexapro? You can do all of that without medication, Seioni.” 

“Oh bite me,” she snarls, “Don’t go all government on me. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“These are issues that can be easily resolved. I’m waiting for your point.”

“Easily resolved?” Her hand quickly latches to pull his arm off of her, his hand becoming more firm as he holds onto her before his mouth fires off, “Seioni. Don’t fuckin’ play with me right now, move your hand.” 

“Boy, fuck off! Who the hell are you to tell me what I can’t take? My father?”

“Boy?” He raises his own eyebrow, full lips and scar twitching in her defiance. 

When she’s finally able to get him to loosen his grip,  she tries to hide her grunt as she has to hold her back and belly all at once to properly stand, struggling as she does so before successfully coming off of his lap. 

The minute she began getting up, his hands went immediately to her hips to hold her in his lap, a very deep frown on his face as he spoke in a dark tone, “Don’t give me that bullshit, woman. I’m your goddamn husband, that’s why I’m saying it—And you can’t even get up to stand by yourself, you can barely even move without grunting in pain, sit the hell down.”

“I can do stuff on my own!” She exclaims, crossing her arms, “Don’t act like I’m helpless, bastard. I’m just saying that maybe Lexapro wouldn’t make me so neurotic.”

“I’m not saying you’re helpless. I’m just saying that your body is not the same as it was before you were pregnant,” he grumbled back, the vein in his forehead throbbing as he spoke. He looked directly down at her arms, seeing how she crossed them across her chest as he continued, “We don’t need anymore side effects happening to you or the baby because you’re wanting some antidepressant. You don’t need those, you need to sit your ass down and take a damn break. This is why your blood pressure is high.”

“Well how about you make me less stressed by helping me out? You wanna be tied up in your stupid ass job all the time, how wouldn’t I be stressed?” She narrows her eyes.

There it is, the argument he’d been avoiding this entire time. He knew that she was upset about the time he’d been spending at work, but work was important to him. He wanted to be able to take care of her and Megumi in more ways than imagined. 

“Don’t act like I just work for shits and fuckin’ giggles.”

“Don’t make me feel like I’m supposed to be satisfied with that ! I’m asking you to at least seem interested when I talk to you about these things. Wedding, baby shower, baby names! Anytime I bring it up you blow me off about it—using the excuse that you just want to make sure I do everything I want for both events, but in reality you just don’t wanna do shit for them!” She clocks him, swatting his arms away in an attempt to touch her.

The vein in his forehead turned into a headache as she continued speaking, her words hitting at his pride. He was beginning to get incredibly pissed as she continued.

“I don’t want to do anything for it because those things aren’t about me, it’s about you and the baby. What kind of man do you think I would be if I didn’t allow you to plan your own gender reveal, your own baby shower, your own wedding, your own goddamn baby gifts? I don’t do anything to help but I’m giving you the reigns here.”

“Well maybe I’d like my fiancè to seem slightly excited about these events, to just give me some type of showing that you care!”

“You’re really doing this right now?” He blinks, “You know I care. If I didn’t I wouldn’t give a fuck about all this stupid-girly shit,” he blows a breath, sucking his teeth, “Shit. Maybe you do need the goddamn Lexapro.” 

Similar to Megumi, another newfound part of her pregnancy was the way that she could instantly cry on cue, almost like a baby. To hear his words instantly hurt her feelings. 

She didn’t mean to give the reaction she did, but everything began hitting her all at once. His words, the doctor's words, her own words. A pout came to her lips, her eyes welling with tears as she pressed her hands to her face, “I just feel so …overwhelmed.”

The minute she began to cry, Toji tensed immediately. He absolutely hated it when she cried, and her pregnancy definitely didn't help him on that end at all. He was about to respond but another sniffle came from her, and then followed by another, and another, he groaned.

"Oh jesus... Stop crying, please, you know I hate this shit..." he grumbled softly, his large hands lightly rubbing at her hips to try and soothe her.

That made her full on sob, her face red as her cheeks swelled, her hands over her face as she cried, “I c—can’t do this alone. I miss my family, I wish they were here to help me with these things. Megumi is giving me a hard time, I—I can’t keep any food down, I can’t fit any of my clothes, I feel like a fucking ugly fat whale.”

He could feel how his shirt got damp, tears staining it from her crying, but he couldn’t care less as he held her against him. Despite the pregnancy, she still felt so small in his grip, and it reassured him that although his words could be mean, he was always there to comfort her.

His head laid against the top of her head as he muttered softly, “You're not alone. You have me, okay? You have me—your…Muffin,” he almost vomited at his words, “ And Meggie, we’re here. You're not alone, babydoll.”

“But you’re always workinggg,” she sobs, hiding her face within his chest as she cries even harder, nearly unable to breath as tears drop heavily from her face.

“Baby, you gotta calm down.”

He tried soothing her as his hand began gently trying to brush away some of the tears falling down her face. Her sobbing was beginning to worry him, she was crying too damn hard. 

“I know you’re upset about the amount of time I’ve been working but—baby, I’m just tryna’ handle shit for us,” he was trying to rationalize with her, but it was very difficult to do so when she was crying.

“M—Maybe y—you just don’t want me or this baby,” she trembles.

Toji quickly grips her face, pulling her tear streaked cheeks to stare up at him as he pulls her forward, “Cut this shit out,” a firm, dark tone, “I want you more than anything with this baby. Quit saying bullshit like that. I think you’re the prettiest, Oni’. You’re lucky I can’t fuck the shit out of you right now.” 

She takes another deep breath, unable to stop herself from crying. The waterworks flowed, keeping her face in her hands as she quivered, “‘M sorry. I’m just so scared. I can’t even get Megumi to pee in the toilet. How am I gonna be a good mother? W—what if I can’t do this?” more tears appear along her face, nearly having to catch her breath from her tearful attack.

He could feel the way she was shaking and quivering from crying, and it only continued to make him feel guilty. Her words hurt, but it hurt even more when she began doubting herself.

“You’re going to be a great mom,” he muttered with an assurance, his hand lightly moving across her face, trying to brush away the tears. “Megumi’s just stubborn, baby. You’ll be able to get him eventually, it just takes time. 

You’re doing great. You’re doing just fine, okay?”

His words make her feel slightly better. She knew that she was doing better than most, and maybe being so critical was another cause of her stress. She knew she was going to be the best mother she could be, she just had to believe that. Especially with Toji’s support. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as she shoves her face within his neck, sniffling as she tries to control her breathing. 

She then muffled, “I—I love you.”

He placed his chin along the top of her head, his hand gently clutching at the back of her hair. “I love you too, beautiful. I love you so damn much.”

“Even when I’m a crying mess?” She mutters, feeling the grumble of his chuckle along her body.

“Even when you’re a complete mess, I still love you. You’re still my gorgeous, loveable mess, baby,” he reassured, placing a gentle kiss along the top of her head, “I meant what I said. You’ in my jersey is gonna get you fucked up,” he grunts, the arousement of this man never failing.

She rolls her eyes against his damp shirt, lightly swatting his arm as she utters, “Hush.”

The comfort and reassurance of this man was like no other— she couldn’t ask for a better upcoming husband. Through all of that, she feels her body becoming tired again after the waterworks, laying herself deeper into him as she lets a moment of silence go between them. Despite their disagreements, she loved him endlessly. 

“Baby?” She asks softly. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have some of your steak?” 

“Is it gonna make you vomit and then cry after you vomit?”

“…Yes.” 

“Then no.” 

                     ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

AS A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAD PASSED, Seioni had  come to the revelation that the only thing she’d do from now on was enjoy this pregnancy. With that, she requested instead of taking Lexapro to receive something for her morning sickness. Toji’s stubbornness subsided at the thought of her being able to eat, to which he painfully agreed on the medication.

All this man wanted to do was make his woman happy. He wanted to withhold the surprise he had for her and Megumi, but knowing that not allowing his fiancè to do her ‘girly-shit’ in preparation for an upcoming vacation to Maui, Hawaii, she’d go into labor if she couldn’t buy a whole new wardrobe.  

She was like a child when it came to her excitement—if only her fiancè and his son were as equally elated in her process. She enjoyed every single swipe of his card, outfits, getting her hair done, pampering herself in preparation to be along the beach. She dragged Toji and Megumi all around the mall with her, finding outfits for them as well—ignoring the looks shared between the son and father, impatient and only wanting to be curled up next to her at home. But as he watched her stare within the mirror as she tried on two-piece bikinis, not giving a damn about her round belly, shopping wasn’t as bad as he made it to be—he was now excited. 

The day finally came as they were at the bustling airport. Seioni pulled her bohemian braids behind her ear, more human hair than anything flowing in between the individuals as her brown skin was lightly russet within the face, her freckle’s almost making her look sun kissed. She wore a ballerina pink baby tee, matching yoga pants and her hello kitty sandals, trying to carry her own personal bag on her shoulder as she gave a polite nod to the airport worker after showing her passport. Toji could’ve nearly snatched that bag off of her shoulder, almost glaring at her for attempting to carry something as heavy as her bag. 

“I had it,” she said softly, rolling her eyes.

He grumbled, raising an eyebrow at her eye-roll as he shifted the strap along his shoulder, allowing her to walk in front of him. He was like a guard dog, ready to pounce at any moment as she spun around in her dream land.

“And you say I’m stubborn,” Toji mutters. 

She raises an eyebrow, “You’ talkin’ shit over there?” Taking Megumi’s small hand within hers, pulling him as he waddled down the line towards TSA. 

“Do you want me to repeat myself in a louder tone?”

She shot daggers at him, eyebrows frowning down as she nearly flung Megumi to turn towards him, “You know what, as a matter of fact, I do!” 

“You better waddle your ass to TSA and stop talking to me.” 

“I don’t wanna have to smack your ass in this damn airport, Fushiguro,” she glares.

“That’s even if you could get to me in time!” 

“Oh! You’re tryna’ be funny! How about I roll over to you?! Bastard!—“ 

“You better stop talking to that man like that, Seioni!” 

She halts. Her attitude is on high alert as she thinks—who the hell is talking to her and why did they know her name?

 Her body fully turns as she searches for the voice that becomes familiar the more it echoes in her mind. Her heart nearly falls in her ass as she sees the familiar smile that she holds within her own face, her mother standing on the other side of the airport as well as her father, brother and aunt.

 Her eyes go wide as she shockingly calls, “Momma?!” 

Her eyes turn to Toji, seeing the smile that suppresses within his face. He knew that she was having a hard time with this pregnancy, so he thought surprising her with her family joining them on the trip would make her smile. He knew she hadn’t seen them in a while due to them living in a different city. 

She releases Megumi’s hand as she takes off for them, Toji calling, “Oni’!” scared she would fall, watching as she waddles quickly over to them, gripping her mother into the tightest hug she could’ve given her. 

“Oh my god,” she cried, tears immediately coming down her face, “What are you— when did you—how are you guys here?” She cried, looking between all of her family members, unable to stop herself from the waterworks.

The minute she began crying, her mother was shushing her gently with a light laugh, “Oh no, no, don’t cry, babygirl. We just wanted to surprise you, since we know you’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Her mother was lightly rubbing her back as her father spoke up next, “Your fiancé told us that you could use some moral support right now, we were more than happy to come see you. He paid for our flights here and to Maui.” 

“You didn’t tell us your fiancè had all this damn munyun, sis,” her brother calls from behind, a smirk along his face.

She scrunches her nose at her brother as she fires, “Don’t be ghetto, act like you’ve been around some money before.” 

“Yo’ daddy!” Nova rebuttals. 

“Aye! I’m nowhere near broke!” Her father, Noel protests. 

“Did you pay for this trip, broke-boy?” Her mother playfully insights to her husband, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, “I recall you only buying a neck pillow for the flight.” 

“Saanaá, please. You bought a matching one!” 

“And did! Celeste bought a third!” She points out. 

“And did! In my business? Mind yours, anyways, he does seem to have heavy ass pockets. What he do’ for work?” The aunt playfully instigates, Toji and Seioni quickly replying in an exhale, “Contractor.” 

Toji’s instantly amused by her family dynamic. He was unable to do anything but chuckle as she turns towards him, “You really did this?” Sniffling as she smacks his arm, “You did. You bastard.” 

Toji now had Megumi along his hip, nearly stumbling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pecking his lips multiple times while still crying throughout her happiness.

“Is this the little Megumi?” Her aunt playfully gasps. 

 Megumi giggles as he raises his arms into hers, surprisingly going right into her embrace which makes her happily cheer. Toji almost had to blink twice. 

“Well come on people, our flight is gonna start boarding soon!” The mom calls, taking the hand of her husband as the aunt giggles excitedly with Megumi in her hands, Seioni’s brother helping with the bags as he follows behind.

 She turns to Toji as she wraps her arms around his neck, “You’re such a sweetie when you wanna be, y’know that? Always putting on this scary act and you’re just a little teddy bear. My muffin.” 

“You think I’m a teddy bear, huh?” He teased lightly, one of his hands lightly resting along the small of her back, holding her close to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ cute. I’m only soft for you.” 

“Looks like somebody's tryna’ get on my good side, hm?” 

She stood on her toes, dragging her tongue along his jaw before sucking his lips into her mouth, making him grunt lowly, “Don’t get me put on the no flight list, Seioni.” 

She giggles, “Bad boy. We’re with my family!” She teases, giggling as she tries to pull away, “The baby can hear you,” she places her hand along her belly.

“She’s gonna feel something if you don’t stop playing,” he threatens along her lips, hearing as she shockingly giggles, swatting his arm before she begins pulling him towards their gate, “Let’s go!” 

The flight had gone by quickly—at least for Seioni, she fell asleep before the plane even took off. Toji spent most of his time hovering the phone over to Megumi to keep him quiet, seeing as he became fussy from having to be stuck in one place for a long period of time. Her mom and aunt were also asleep, her brother and father engrossed in a movie they were both watching at the same time.

He couldn’t help but sigh as both Seioni and Megumi gripped along his body to comfortably sleep, Toji barely unable to move at this point. The tired laugh that fell from his lips was inevitable.

The minute that he felt like he’d dozed off, they arrived in Maui. His jet-lagged physique made him feel like his eyes were shutting by themselves, but to see the excitement of his fiancè as she pulled him through the airport, he figured he’d sleep another time. The sun was shining brighter than they’d ever experienced as they made it outside, the flowers were blooming and the trees were vibrantly green—it was almost overwhelming.

“We were only on the plane for an hour but yet my ass feels like it’s been sitting in a seat for hours,” he mutters, his voice tired. It felt like his chest had been filled with concrete; the only thing keeping him focused was the pure, raw excitement that his fiancè showed. 

“Awe, you need a massage?” Seioni questions, rubbing the side of his neck as he attempts to pick up her luggage, his and Megumi’s. 

“Don’t be tryna’ soften me up and shit” he points out, Seioni pouting as she says, “Moi? Softening you up? How dare you.” 

Toji huffs as she continues to rub at the side of his neck, the action making him want to just collapse into her body and fall asleep. 

“What do you want, woman?”

“Your love and affection?” She bats her eyelashes, “You've been working  so hard. Nova, come get these bags before I punch you! My man is doing all the damn work!” She calls for her brother, wrapping her arms around Toji as she pecks his jaw.

“Stop yelling at me, fucker.”

Both siblings raise their middle fingers to each other, Toji having to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the sight. 

He feels her arms wrapping around his body, subconsciously holding her a bit tighter against him as he grumbles, “Yeah, okay.”

When they walked into what essentially seems to be a villa, the sight was beautiful. The inside walls were brown, minimalist beige furniture with a large kitchen. There were multiple rooms, an opening that led out to a personal pool, fruits, finger foods plastered around the kitchen island to welcome the family in the house.

“Dammnn, Toji. You’ did good!” Saanaà calls, the aunt agreeing, “This shit is bougie. You’ must really love Oni’!” 

“She’s aight!,” her brother Nova comments, the dad intervening, “Don’t be mad cause you don’t have a woman to do this for.”

“That’s if he had the money!” Aunt Celeste clowns on him, everyone laughing as Nova smacks his lips, carrying their bags upstairs.

“Let’s go to the beach! I need to see the sun set.”

“Ooh, and to see the fine men on the beach!” Her aunt agreed with her moms statement. 

“That too,” Saanaà nods her head, Noel then saying, “You’ tryna be funny, married woman?” With a raised eyebrow.

“Oh boy, don’t start. Y’know I love you…but I also love  looking at fine men!” 

Seioni rolls her eyes with a soft laugh, then saying, “As much as I’d love to watch you two act an ass on this beach, I’m feeling a little nauseated from the plane ride,” she places her hand over her belly, feeling her feet becoming heavier as she stands. Toji immediately wraps his arm around her, steadying as he knows her feet hurt at times.

“You alright, baby?” Toji is immediately concerned, having the urge to pick her up to keep her feet off of the ground.

“Do you need us to stay with you?” Her mom asks, now becoming equally worried. 

She shakes her head, “No—actually, take Megumi with you, if that’s okay. I’d love for him to see the water. Let him spend some time with y’all, Toji can stay here and make sure I don’t roll down the stairs,” she weakly jokes, pulling her hair behind her ear tiredly.

Her mom nods her head in agreement, looking over at Toji with a curious look, “You don’t mind?” 

Toji shrugs his shoulders, “Nah. I can stay here and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” he half-jokes, shifting so her body can lean more so on his own.

“Okay, we’ll be back soon. Let’s go, Meggie!” Her aunt picks up the small two-year old, watching as he giggled, wrapping his arms around her neck. 

All in her plan. Once the family exits out the house, Toji looks down as he notices the grin she tries to suppress. He raises an eyebrow, realizing she had been trying to find a reason to get her family out of the house without actually having to ask.

“You’re a terrible actor,” he hums, “You just wanted me all to yourself? Selfish ass.” 

“Mhmmm,” she hums back, happy as can be, tugging him towards the master bedroom. 

It was more beautiful than she imagined. A crisp white bed next to a walk in shower, green marble in the structure of the walls. As they look out to the balcony, there’s a clawfoot tub that looks out into the beauty of the green trees, a sight that she could look at forever. 

She felt a pang in her chest as she was now alone with him, as if this wasn’t her fiancée that’d she’d been with for the past two years. He knew every part of her body, so why was she afraid to show it? 

She faced the wall of the shower as she undressed. Toji instantly notices how she refuses to look at herself, but says nothing. He didn’t wanna cause an argument— at least for now. 

The tub is now filled, flower petals drenched beneath the warm water, multicolored and ethereal to their eyes. Seioni leans against the top of the tub as she stares out at the horizon, her long bohemian braids claw clipped out of her face, skin bare of makeup as her freckles tattoo against her cheeks and nose. The sunlight beamed against her brown skin, she couldn’t look away from it. Toji was the opposite—he couldn’t look away from her. 

She continued to ramble, “So, I was thinking about baby names again. I had been looking into some Japanese names for a girl, and I saw the name Kiyomi—I thought it was so cute. It’ll fit into our little family, everyone ending in ‘I’s’. Megumi, Seioni, Toji, you get what I’m saying? And then I can give her a little nickname like ‘Omi’ cause it sounds like me! ‘Oni’! Yeah?” 

When she hears no response and realizes she might’ve been talking too much, she stops, noticing the way he leans his head slightly as he stares at her. 

She leans herself into the water as she gives a small 

smile, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His gray eyes continued to stare at her, tracing every dip and curve of her body with his gaze as he spoke, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

She rolls her eyes, “Were you even listening?” coming closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she comes onto his lap. The warm water engulfs both of their skin.

Toji allows her to adjust herself onto his lap, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist once she is situated. He hums as he buries his face into the crook of her neck, his lips attaching to her warm throat.

“I was listening,” he murmurs, “Kiyomi is a nice name, perfect for a pretty little girl. Just like her momma.”

He continues to press kisses against her skin, teeth gently nipping at the skin of her shoulder. She sighs, feeling that she wanted to have a conversation about what was going on in her head. But she knew that Toji wouldn’t be too happy to hear the unhappiness she felt, and she didn’t want to ruin the trip. 

“You’ve been all quiet on me since we got here,” she says quietly, “I miss you. Are you feeling…overwhelmed with my family?”

He chuckles, “Nah, I’m good, Mama. I’m just a little tired. We’ve been traveling for hours and your family is on ten at all times. It’s just different.” 

He presses a gentle kiss against her exposed collarbone, “Plus, I’ve been looking forward to being alone with you.”

Her mind wracks at that. She knows they need some time together, without Megumi’s constant whining and crying, without her family regardless of this trip. She thought back to the doctor's words of intimacy, the thought feeling almost virginal to her. She felt…not like herself. She wasn’t looking for a pep talk about confidence. But this belly and the changes in her body, she wasn’t used to it. 

She pulls him closer, letting the petals flow around them within the tub as she asks, “You’d tell me if they were getting on your nerves, right?”

Toji allows her to pull him closer, his arms fully wrapping around her back as he presses a kiss against her shoulder. He chuckled softly at her question, “Your family is cool as fuck. But this conversation isn’t gonna stop you from saying what’s actually wrong with you.” 

She feels the intensity in his stare. Blowing out a breath at the question, her eyes fall back down. This was the time to be vulnerable, but as said before, she didn’t want a scolding in response. 

She shakes her head as she lies somewhat, “Just nervous about the family thing. They can be kinda…controlling?”

His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not,” she lies again, “So you aren’t worried about getting into it with them? You have a mouth on you.”

Toji gives her a look, knowing that she was bullshitting him. There was definitely more to what she was saying than she was letting on. 

“Nope,” he responds instead, “I do have a mouth on me, but I’m a grown ass man, I know how to— what do you’ be saying? Keep it cute? I’m hip as fuck!” 

“Oh god,” she giggles, wrapping her arms tightly around him, ignoring his chuckle that buried into her shoulder blade. 

Another thought passes of wanting to be upfront with him. But the atmosphere, their moment together—it was too beautiful to ruin. She just hoped he didn’t push about it, knowing that he could read anything on her face. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” She questions, kissing his jaw, pecking his nose, even along his cheeks.

His eyes dart over her face as she begins to pepper all over his cheeks with kisses. She attempts to act cutesy in order to distract him from the question, knowing all too well that she’s doing so. She was good at it too. 

He sighs as a small smirk forms on his face, “Nah, do you know how I love you?” he responds.

“Mmm, as much as the moon loves the stars within the sky?” She cheekily responds, pressing her forehead against his, feeling his hand press gently along her stomach.

Toji chuckles and rolls his eyes at her dorky response, one of his hands gently rubbing at her stomach while the other rests on her hip. He smirks at her, “Corny ass. I love you more than that.” 

When he kisses her, it feels breathless as he holds her jaw while sucking his lips into her mouth, as if it had more meaning behind it. When he pulled back, the warmth against her face and the dumb smile along it wouldn’t falter. She loved this man. 

“Now, back to the name game. I’m thinking Toji Jr, or Megumi-Toji-Jr, or, Toji-Megumi-Jr, yeah?” 

Seioni rolls her eyes. She loves him, even if he was a damn idiot. 

As the sun sets along the island, Seioni and Toji meet the rest of her family out towards the beach, a family dinner now taking place. Her black baby tee and a long matching skirt that draped down to her ankles, orchid sandals and a matching flower along the side of her hair made her feel somewhat decent—even if she kept glancing down at her stomach— She waved excitedly as everyone cheered when they arrived, Toji holding her hand behind her to make sure she didn’t trip within the sand. 

He was like a baby, wanting to have a tantrum when she asked him to wear a Hawaiian button up, the man wanting to die before he put on patterned clothes. Instead she got him to wear a pair of black and white flowered swimming trunks, white long sleeve clinging to his broad frame—he still wasn’t entirely happy about it.

The group had set up a makeshift table on the sand, chairs and a checkered picnic blanket set out. The sun was setting, the ocean and sky turning into a blend of oranges and pinks, the scene quite breathtaking. 

The family sat around the table, eating and making small talk. Toji leaned into the seat, his body relaxed and his hand rested on Seioni’s lower back. Despite them being his soon to be in-laws, Toji found her family entertaining enough, able to keep him interested with their banter back and forth.

Hula dancers suddenly appeared as they all talked, their villa's host also appearing as he welcomed them to Maui. The family was amazed as some of the girls performed fire tricks, their hips moving in ways that were more than talented. It wasn’t too long before Megumi stood from where he sat next to Seioni and Toji and played in the sand, running up to them as he began to dance—which was jumping around in a baby’s attempts to find rhythm, giggling as the hula girls smiled at him.

The family laughed at the adorable sight before them, Toji chuckling at the little dancing Megumi, jumping around and babbling. It was extremely cute, the hula dancers all smiling and waving at the little boy. 

“Don’t think you got those moves from your non-rhythm ass daddy, huh?” Seioni’s aunt giggled. 

“Not too much! I have rhythm!” Toji defends himself, Seioni giggling beside him. 

Everyone was now up— her brother flirting his way into getting one of the Hula girls' numbers, her mom pulling her dad up to dance with her, and her aunt recording Megumi as she shouted, “Go Meg! Go Meg!” 

Seioni hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As she turned her head to kiss Toji, a hula girl came forward, pulling her up off the sand to dance with her, trying to teach her the movement of her hips. 

Seioni giggled, her cheeks warm as she followed, raising her hands above her body as she twisted her hips to follow the music that played.

Toji couldn’t help but smile at her as he watched her follow along with the hula girl. Her body moved in a fluid motion, hips twisting and swaying. Toji’s smile only grew wider, the joy and twinkle in her eyes making his heart skip in his chest. She looked so happy and so free, as if nothing in the world could get in her way. 

His eyes darkened in a different way as he watched how she looked in her tight skirt and top, the way it hugged her curves. He loved her in more ways than one, but at times it felt like he was digging his nails into the surface, trying to hold back a side of him she knew the first night she’d met him. He was becoming impatient, and he was an extremely patient man.

Seioni was now dancing with Megumi, spinning him around playfully. When her Aunt Celeste wanted the baby all to herself, Seioni brought her attention back towards Toji as she leaned down with her arms out, gesturing for him to dance with her.

Toji rolled his eyes slightly as he was pulled to his feet, his hand gripping her as their bodies pressed close together. He chuckled, wrapping one arm around her hips while his other hand gripped hers as they began to sway, his eyes gazing down at her. 

“You really just can’t get enough of me, huh, woman?”

“Never. It’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” 

She sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck, giggling as he pulls her sandals on top of his shoes, twisting her around and holding her up by them. He leans down as he brings his lips to her neck, a small gasp leaving her lips as she feels his palm slam on her ass, pulling her eyes up as she shrieks, “Fushiguro!”

“Don’t act like that. They know how you got pregnant in the first place.” 

“I’m putting a muzzle on you for the rest of the time here,” she tells him, “You’re not being good.”

His eyebrow raises, mischief glistening in his eyes as he chuckles at the threat. He leans in closer, his nose almost bumping against hers. 

“Let me start barking then.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning her face up to kiss him, “Keep talking shit, maybe I’ll put a muzzle on my mouth and you’ll be using that hand all week.”

He raises an eyebrow, “A muzzle on you, huh? That’s some freaky shit. Ooh, girl, you’re nasty.”

Seioni giggles as he fully picks her up and spins her around, kissing away their entire conversation. The family spent hours along the beach, the night nearly going into dawn when they made it back to the villa. Toji felt like he’d been hit by a train, the jet-lag and overall tiredness he felt hitting him all at once as they made their way to bed.

 Megumi was sleeping with Celeste, while Nova and her parents had their own rooms, leaving Toji and Seioni alone to themselves. His hand rubbed her stomach until she fell asleep, finally allowing his own eyes to close once he knew she was comfortable. 

…But just as he was deep within his rest, a knock came pounding at their door. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes. 

“Good morning Love Birds, we’re all going to breakfast!” 

Her mom calls through the door. When she doesn’t hear anything, she knocks again. Still silent. She then makes the decision to open the door without asking permission, walking towards the bed as she tugged at the covers along their feet.

“I know y’all hear me!”

Seioni groans softly, her eyes blinking open to see her mom standing at the end of the bed. She says to her softly, “Hi, mommy.”

As she turns, she sees Toji is also awake—practically giving her mom the death stare, his eyes only peeking above the covers, pulling Seioni closer to him. 

“The fuck?” he grumbled, still glaring.

“Toji,” she scolded softly, tapping his chest at his reaction, “We’ll be down there in a minute, mom.”

“‘The fuck I am,” he disagreed under his breath, deepening himself under the covers.

“Hurry up! I love me some French toast, it’ll be gone in seconds!”

With that, her mom slams the door, Toji almost wanting to throw something against the wall at all the loud sounds imploding his ears.

Seioni sighs, running a hand over her face as she murmurs, “What time is it?”

“Too early to be having motherfuckers slamming the door open talking about some dumb ass French toast,” Toji mutters back, immensely irritated. 

“Hey, that’s my momma you’re talking about, jackass. Tighten up,” she flicks his nose, “Why are you so grumpy? You’ literally get up at the ass crack of dawn to go to work. What’s so different now?”

“Because? I’m not at work right now?” His voice held a grumpy tone, obviously not amused by her mother’s sudden appearance. 

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her, “How the hell can you even act so calm right now? You hate your sleep being interrupted.”

“Because we’re on vacation and should enjoy every moment we have together, Fushiguro,” she pulls his face up to meet hers, squeezing his cheeks as she says, “Lighten up, Muffin?” 

His hands reach up to take a hold of her wrists, his irritation only building, “No.” he says firmly. 

“Mean ass,” she insults, “Maybe you do need some breakfast.”

His eyes peek open at that. When he glances down at her appearance, scarf around her hair and in his jersey, the vanilla spray she spritzed on herself before they went to sleep inhaled his senses—this is when he found her most attractive. 

Maybe he did need to relax. His eyes darken as he comes closer, his lips along her neck as he sucks at the skin, coming up as he latches a kiss against her mouth. 

He grunts, “You’re right. Open your fuckin’ legs, I’m hungry.” 

Her body tenses up as he kisses her, his hand along her belly making her want to squirm. What if she wasn’t as seductive as she used to be? 

She was doing her best to keep up with him, that much he knew. He could feel it in the kisses, the way her body reacted to his touch. But she wasn’t fully giving herself to him. He wanted more from her. He needed that hunger that he knew she was holding back—He needed her to be as desperate as he was. 

He let out a low growl between their kisses, clutching her hair within his fingers as he tugged her head back, licking the skin of her throat. She whimpers softly, “Toji…”

“Quit holding back,” he murmurs against her skin. He can feel her breath hitch again, her body trembling in his grip, “Let me make you feel good.”

A soft moan comes from her lips as she grabs his hair in her fingers, head falling back as she tries to relax her body. For a moment she felt okay. But when she notices how he has to hover over her to not hit her belly, her insecurities come crumbling onto her. 

It was also right on time, another knock coming to the door as her mom calls, “I know y’all don’t want me to bust in this damn room again!” 

She stopped him. Pressing her hand against his jaw to push him back, she says softly, “Maybe we should just go get breakfast.”

Knock, knock, knock. 

His eyes narrow, irritation returning, this time for a completely different reason. This was the last thing he wanted. He was finally getting somewhere with her, she was finally letting herself go, and now they were being interrupted again. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

She sighs, “I don’t need the house cussing us out, everyone has to eat together in my family,” she briefly explains, “Plus…my belly is kinda…in the way…” 

She brushes her self deprecating thoughts away as she sighs, “Lets just go.” 

“‘The fuck are you talking about?”

She ignores that question. Now standing from the bed, she removes her scarf as her braids come falling around her face, edges still sculpted perfectly as she pulls on some house slippers, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

His eyes follow her as she stands, his mood now more than just sour. She really thinks that his thoughts have changed because of a baby bump? He loves her, and nothing about her looks or her body would ever change that. 

But just like her—he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He swings himself off the bed, running a hand through his messy black hair. His irritation grew the more he thought about her comment.

When they finally make their way into the kitchen's dining area, Seioni politely greets the workers as they place their food against the table, Toji glaring behind her as he sits, quickly greeting the family, “Morning.” 

He sees Megumi sitting at the table with Celeste, rubbing his eyes as he whines softly. When he sees Toji, he raises his arms up, the first time of him wanting his father’s attention since they’ve been here.

He looks to her aunt, “Did you wake him up?”

“We did. Eating together is tradition, that includes sleeping babies! We woke Seioni and Nova up every morning around this time to eat breakfast, tired or not. You have to get used to getting up early,” Saanaà tells him. 

“He has trouble sleeping, I don’t need him waking up if he’s finally asleep. That makes him irritated throughout the day, and he won’t stop fussing,” Toji says, voice filled with annoyance from what Seioni could read. She lightly places her hand over his.

Her touch manages to calm him down a bit, although his irritation was still there. He was just happy that at least she was calm, he didn’t want her stress levels to go up.

“He’ll be okay, nothing a pacifier can’t fix!” Her aunt then chimes in, an uncomfortable tension now in the air. 

Seioni then lightly passes, “We’re trying to get him off the pacifier, Aunt Celeste.” 

Her mom takes a fork, digging it into her toast as she shrugs, “He’s a baby. No need to do all that extra shit and go by his schedule, you’re the parent. He’s gonna cry regardless. Let him.”

Seioni presses her lips into her mouth. Here they go, she thought.

 As she went to respond to that, Toji leaned forward as Megumi still had his hands out for him, the two year old whining as he cradled into his fathers arms. He leaned his head against his shoulder with his thumb now in his mouth.

How was she going to tell him how to raise his own fucking kid? 

Seioni looks to her father and brother, knowing how her aunt and mom could be. They thankfully catch her quiet call for help as Noel says, “So, what’s the plans for today, Oni’?” 

“I was thinking me and Toji could look at some venues in Maui, I really am thinking about a wedding along the beach, as long as it isn’t too hot,” she tells them with a soft smile, clutching her fingers in Toji’s that’s under the table, feeling the tense in his body. 

“You’re doing that today?” Her aunt blinks, “Girl, we have plenty of time for that. Why don’t we go jet-skiing! Or swim with the turtles?”

“Ooh! Jet-skiing sounds nice as hell!” Her mom agrees, the both of them clinking their mimosas together.

Nova then chimes in, “Yeah, momma. That sounds cool. But you wouldn’t wanna go see some beach venues?” He tries to reel both women back in, seeing as this is what his sister wants, and Toji’s eyes narrow as they try to force their itineraries on her.

“Not really. A beach wedding is simple anyways, honey,” Seioni’s mom shakes her head, “Your father married me in a beautiful cathedral, with angels, cherubs and renaissance paintings all against the walls. You should want more than that.”

That makes Seioni blink for a moment, her hand going lax in Toji’s. She knew how her mom could be, wanting things for herself and putting them onto her daughter, she just wished this wasn’t the time she did that.

His fingers twitch under the table, his irritation only growing as the conversation continued. How could they just disregard her? Didn’t they care about what she wanted?

“Well, um—maybe you guys can just go jet-ski and me and Toji will look for venues?” She then suggests, “You can take Megumi, I’m sure he’d enjoy the water way more.”

“Girl, this is a family vacation, meaning we’re all supposed to be together. You’re coming,” her mom finalizes, her aunt then saying, “Toast to that!” The both of them once again clinking those stupid ass mimosas. They were obviously tipsy. 

Eyes fall onto Toji who then stands from the table, holding Megumi as he says, “I’m gonna go try to feed him upstairs and put him down for a nap.” 

Seioni could feel her fiancées annoyance. She could feel the frustration radiating off of him. But she knew he was trying to hold his mouth for the sake of her family. 

She gives him a weak smile as she says, “Okay,” accepting the peck of his lips against hers before he makes his way upstairs.

“Toji can be a grumpy ass man it seems,” her mom points out, not realizing how irritating she’s being. 

“It’s just hard for us to get Megumi to sleep at times, Momma. Him being woken up this early dismisses the schedule we have him on,” she tries to explain.

“He’ll be okay,” her mom waves her hand, “There’s a lot we’re going to be doing, you both just need to relax a little bit.”

"And it's not all about Megumi," her aunt adds, "You have to think about us. We want to spend time with you, too."

Her eyes narrow slightly as she tries not to get riled up, "I know…”

Her mom takes a sip of her mimosa, her voice lowering, "But just think, is your fiancée seriously gonna be happy with a beach wedding?" 

Seioni can feel her shoulders tense as her mom puts doubt into her mind. She can see what she’s trying to do—maybe it’s starting to work.

“He’s happy with whatever I want, Mom,”  she pulls a braid behind her ear, “The whole reason we came to Maui was because he knew this was one of my places I wanted to get married.”

"Really?" Her aunt's voice is a mix between disbelief and surprise. "That man is happy with whatever you want?" 

Her mom shakes her head, "You really have him whipped, huh?"

“I need to get my husband like that,” her mom then laughs loudly, her aunt then chiming in, “I need all three of my men on my knees like he is!”

“Saanaà,” Seioni’s father scolds, Nova pulling out his phone to dismiss himself from this entire conversation.

Seioni blinks back and forth between them, feeling herself becoming irritated as well. If she let them go on for too long, they started berating everyone around. It wasn’t fun. 

Seioni presses her lips into her mouth as she says, “I’m gonna go take my medicine, we can meet back down here in the next hour for jet-skiing…or swimming with the turtles, yeah?”

Her mom gives her a sly smile, taking another sip of her mimosa, "Mhm, sounds like a plan, honey. Take your meds and we'll see you soon." 

Seioni's dad places his hand on her shoulder, Nova looking up from his phone, giving her a nod, agreeing that everything would be fine. Hopefully.

She could hear her mom and aunt both say, “Beach wedding…” another laugh, another clink of those fucking mimosas. 

As she makes her way upstairs, she opens the door to see Toji sitting at the end of the bed with Megumi as he holds a bowl of eggs towards him, the tv along the wall playing a cartoon that they usually watched together. 

Toji raised the scrambled eggs in his hand as he gestured to the baby, “Eat-eat?”

Megumi stares at the bowl in front of him, his eyes wide as he glances between Toji and the eggs. There's hesitation on his expression, as if he isn't sure if he wants to eat the food or not. Then his stomach growls, and he makes a face.

“No, Eat-Eat,” he pouts, rubbing his eyes, getting eggs within his hair as his tiny fingers rub his face. 

“Eat, eat,” Toji says again, a hint of impatience in his voice. He tries to guide the spoonful of eggs closer to Megumi's mouth, but the little boy turns his head away, refusing to open.

Seioni sighs as she closes the door. Toji looks at her, watching as she crosses her arms over her chest, a blank stare in her face as she keeps her eyes against the floor. The entire tables conversation replays in her head—she felt like this trip was slowly taking a turn. 

“No hungry, Oni’,” Megumi says to her, pushing the spoon away that Toji holds to him. 

Seioni sighs, “Eat-eat, Meggie. Then, go to bed? Yeah?”

Megumi blinks again, a deeper pout coming on his olive cheeks, skin deepening in red as tears gloss his eyes. He pouts, “Paci,” his own way of trying to say Pacifier. Toji shakes his head, “Don’t want you to cry, papa. Please eat-eat.”

He sniffles, leaning forward as he opens his mouth, Toji making a blowing sound with his lips to gain his attention, pushing the spoon within his mouth as he finally accepts the eggs. He watches as Megumi then takes the small bowl he has, beginning to mush the eggs together before shoving them into his mouth, crumbs falling all along the bed.

“You’ good?” Toji then takes his attention towards Seioni. 

She presses her lips in as she nods, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

"You don't look fine," he says bluntly, his eyes lingering. He knows her better than that.

“I’m just…my mom and my aunt are just drinking too much,” she brushes off, “That’s all. I don’t want Meggie to be irritated and sleepy all day, I just…wanna go look at venues.”

"We'll go look at venues," he assures her, his voice gentle. "We can go to every fuckin’ venue on this beach, baby. Whatever you want.”

Seioni takes in another breath. She wanted this vacation to be perfect, and for everyone to be happy. She didn’t want to be a pregnant bridezilla. 

She shakes her head, giving a fake smile as she sighs, “We’ll go jet-skiing, and swim with the turtles. It’ll be fun! We can check out the venues tomorrow.”

It’s unfortunate he could see right through her. 

"You sure about that, sunshine?" he asks, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and you can tell your family that. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

She glances over to Megumi who’s now laying on her side of the bed, slowly dozing off as he keeps his eyes upon the show he watches. 

She crosses her arms again as she frowns, “Who said I was scared? I’m a grown ass woman, Fushiguro.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. But you don’t have to let them walk over you.”

“And I’m not?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, so drop it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

With that, she ignores the smack on his lips, Toji standing to shower, going around her as he pulls his shirt off of his upper body. She doesn’t even jump as the door slams behind him. She keeps her arms crossed, feeling like this was their first argument since they’d been here. This wasn’t going as well as she thought it would.

The disagreement between her and Toji made her feel weird. She didn’t like fighting with him, and now silence filled the tension for the next hour as they got ready for a day at the beach. She thought about her family, her mom, her aunt, she just wished that everyone was on one accord. But more importantly, she didn’t want to be at odds with Toji. 

She watched as Megumi was now fully dressed but asleep on the bed, Toji still within the shower as she was left alone to stare at herself. She stood in a royal blue bikini top and bottom, golden seashells clasped beneath the material under her breasts. She turned to the side, seeing her belly poking out in a way that made her feel huge. She could feel her eyes watering. 

Why couldn’t she stop feeling like this? Why did she wish she was within her regular body, feeling confident and sexy? For herself? For her fiancée? For herself?

She pulled her hair behind her ear as she heard the bathroom open, now feeling Toji’s broad frame beside her, his arms coming around from behind. Her body immediately leaned back against him.

She said softly, “I feel like…I don’t belong in this bikini.”

His muscles flex as he pulls her in closer to him. He leans down, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looks at her through the mirror. 

"Why do you say that?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle. "You look fuckin’ perfect, baby."

She keeps her eyes down, not wanting to make herself cry, “I don’t know…maybe I should put something else on.”

"You don't have to put something else on," he says, his voice low. He brings his arm around her shoulders and neck, kissing her ear as he says, “You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” 

She holds onto his arm, “You have to say that. You’ll be my husband soon.” 

“And I’ll say it a million times until you know I mean everything I say. Cut that self-deprecation shit out.”

She jumps lightly as she feels his palm slam along her ass, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she rubs the tears that are trying to form in her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she convinces herself, bringing her eyes up as she says, “You look nice.”

Toji smirks as she glances up at him through the mirror, her eyes raking over his bare chest and the towel hanging low on his hips. It’s obvious how she’s trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t mind. 

“Don’t start flirting with me now, I’ll blush like a school boy,” he teases, his eyes glimmering with mischief as he grins at her reflection.

She laughs softly, leaning her face into his arm, inhaling the scent of his cologne. She then whispers, “I don’t…I don’t like when we fight.”

“Neither do I,” he agrees, his voice quieter now. “You’re not scared of your family,” he says, repeating the point he made earlier, “But don’t let them walk all over you, yeah?”

She nods her head, tilting her head to look back at him, “You love me? You won’t throw me into the ocean with the fish?”

Toji grins down at her, his eyes sparkling as he leans his face closer to hers. “I love you, momma. More than you know,” He then chuckles lightly, pretending to ponder over her question. “I may throw you in the water later, though.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning up as she kisses him again. 

The rest of the day had gone more pleasant than either of them expected, assuming the chaos of this morning would roll over into the day. Instead, the family enjoyed their time together. They went out to the water to jet ski, Seioni’s mom and her father on one, Nova by himself, and Toji pulling a fearful Seioni on his own while Celeste and Megumi watched from the boat—Celeste taking videos, per usual. Seioni shrieked as they sped on the vehicle, holding onto him tightly as he perfectly maneuvered throughout the crisp water.

He gunned the engine, causing the jet ski to leap forward, Seioni’s screams and giggles piercing the air. Everyone cheered as they coasted along the water, exploring the sight of the island, seeing the beauty of it from this perspective. When they were back on land they tried out Hawaiian snacks, Seioni for a moment seeing her mother and Toji getting along, cracking jokes with one another in a way that made her happy. She knew him, her brother and her father would immediately click. But to see Toji become close with her mom and aunt, it made her feel warm.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned brilliant hues of orange, pink, and gold, Seioni's family gathered for a barbecue dinner on the beach. They had cooked burgers and hot dogs on grills and set out side dishes and beverages on a long table. Toji sat next to Seioni, one arm around her chair as they all enjoyed the meal together.

In the soft flickering light of the torches and the glow of the sunset, Seioni found herself feeling a sense of peace and contentment that she hadn't expected to feel on this vacation.

They laid out along the sand as they were in a vicious game of Uno, her aunt and mom on their third fruity drinks, giggling as they talked shit to each other. 

Seioni rolled her eyes as she put down her card, “The color is…red!”

Toji laughed as Seioni declared the color, her aunt and mom groaning with frustration. The game had been going on for a while now, with all of them getting progressively more competitive as the drinks continued to flow. 

"You guys need to pay attention," Seioni teased, unable to contain her smirk as she watched her mom and aunt pout. Saanaà rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink as she said, "We're trying."

Her aunt chimed in with a scoff, "Yeah. It's not our fault that the colors are confusing, especially at night."

Toji chimed in, his voice laced with amusement, "Or maybe y’all are just tipsy as hell.”

“Red looks orange to me!” Celeste shook her head, Nova saying, “Orange isn’t even a color!”

The group burst out laughing at that. As they continued to place their cards down, Megumi sat beside Toji, playing in the sand. He stood on his small feet to get a better leverage on the castle Toji had helped him make earlier, but as he leaned against the sand, he began tugging at the shorts he wore, reaching for his diaper.

Seioni notices him tugging at his bottoms, calling him as she asks, “Meggie, go potty?”

He looked at her, nodding vigorously, “Potty.” 

He attempted to get up, but his small feet immediately sank back into the sand, causing him to lose his balance and stumble back down. Toji chuckled, reaching out to scoop him into his arms as he swiftly tugged his diaper open, catching a waft of stench in the baby’s pants. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Meg. Why didn’t you say potty? You don’t want to get a rash,” he talks more to himself, knowing Megumi couldn’t actually respond. Megumi babbles, wrapping his arms around Toji’s neck to hide himself, always becoming shy when he had an accident, knowing they’d been trying to get him on the toilet. 

“That’s because he can barely speak to say he needs to shit. Maybe y’all should’ve taught him that,” Seioni’s mom says, and it almost feels like an insult. With the way everyone went quiet,  it probably was. 

“Mom,” Seioni warns, “He’s two. He’s not gonna speak like the rest of us. He makes gestures when he needs something.” 

“Oh don’t give me that age bullshit, you and Nova knew how to speak perfectly at two. Knew colors. Even could count to fifty. It’s about the parent, and their lack of teaching to their child.”

Toji narrows his eyes, letting his mouth draw first as he questions, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Toji,” Seioni scolds.

“My kid is doing perfectly fuckin’ fine, last time I checked,” Toji sharply replies, “We’re good as fuck over here.”

"The toilet exists yet he still shits himself!" Her mom retorts back, and Toji has to bite his tongue, holding back the urge to curse this woman out. 

“Just say he isn’t fully developed. You don’t have to give excuses, we can teach him something you might not be able to,” Saanaà finalizes, taking another sip of her wine cooler. 

Luckily, Seioni’s dad interrupts the growing tension—before Toji can rip this woman’s head off—his gentle voice trying to diffuse the situation. "Hey, hey. Let's not start fighting. Meggie's just fine.”

Seioni then agrees with a frown, “He’s doing just fine for his age. You’re tipsy.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I am, little girl! I’m a grown ass woman, I can drink when I wanna drink!”

“Don’t think ‘cause you got a lil’ family you can start talking to us crazy!” Her aunt pipes in. 

Seioni presses her lips together, watching as Toji then stands from his spot, taking Megumi as they begin making their way back towards the villa. He was upset with her for not only saying anything back to her family, but not defending him, knowing if he defended himself it would cause problems.

Her brother helps her stand from her spot before she follows Toji back into the villa, making her way upstairs as she finds him changing Megumi’s diaper. 

“Baby—“

“Nah. Don’t do that, Seioni. You know that shit was disrespectful as fuck.”

“I know that,” she says back, stepping farther into the door.

“You just sat there and let them say that about Megumi? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Seioni’s eyebrows lower, “‘The fuck do you mean by that? I can’t control my mom’s mouth, nor my aunts. I didn’t expect them to say any of that, Fushiguro.”

“It ain’t ‘bout your mom,” Toji snaps, his jaw clenching as his tone gets louder. He hates how she’s now addressing him by his last name, and with an annoyed grunt, he adds, “You could’ve at least said something about it. Defend us. Me. Something.”  

“You’re a grown ass man, Fushiguro. You could’ve told them something, you didn’t seem too afraid to start snapping up on my mom the minute she started talking about Megumi. Let’s talk about your disrespectful, big headed ass!” She insults, coming closer to him, her head tilting up as he towers over her frame.

Toji scoffs, the corner of his lip lifting up in a sneer. “My disrespectful, big headed ass? My disrespectful ass??”

“How about your disrespectful ass not saying anything when your mom insults our family. That’s what has me pissed. You didn’t stick up for your own motherfuckin’ so-called husband.” 

They’re going back and forth, not realizing that the rest of the family has entered the house. Her aunt and mother are too in their own world to hear the argument, her father trying to sober them up as her brother overhears. 

Nova quickly comes upstairs as he then says, “Hey, uh—I can take Megumi downstairs, I’m gonna make some smoothies, I think he’ll like it?” Trying to make sure the baby wasn’t within the room for their argument.

Toji’s eyes dart towards her brother as he appears, watching as he extends his hands towards Meg, reaching to pick him up. Toji nods and hands the child gently over to him, watching as he leaves the room. 

When he’s out of sight, Toji’s attention turns back to Seioni, focusing his scowl back on her. His face is stern, his hand running through his hair as he speaks, his voice quieter. 

“You should’ve said something. Anything, Seioni.” 

“So all of this is my fault? Let’s not act like you don’t have a fuckin’ mouth on you that I have to constantly put on a leash. What she said was wrong, but to point fingers at me? Fuck that, and fuck you!”

Those words hit right where he didn’t want them to, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips as he shakes his head. 

“This is what the fuck I was talking about. I’ve been so patient with your family. Your mom. Your aunt. Waking me up early as fuck as if I’ve slept, letting them walk all over you and tell you what to do as if you aren’t a grown ass woman. My fuckin’ woman. And now, telling me how to raise my kid? I’ve really been sparing your ass on the civil fact that I don’t want to get into it with your people. I love you too much to do that.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be thankful on account of that? For not cussing out my mom and aunt? Man of the fuckin’ year, aren’t you?” She tilts her head, her body practically fuming as she becomes more pissed off, “You’re right. They’re a pain in the ass, I know that. You’re smart as fuck to not fix your mouth to say some slick shit to my momma. But instead of taking your lashings out on me, be a man and tell them that yourself! You can use your words without talking out of your neck, Fushiguro!” 

“I am a fuckin’ man!” He shouts, “A man wouldn’t talk out the side of his neck to your family! I’m trying not to act an ass, but you’re taking me there. They’re taking me there. Stop talking to me like I’m stupid as fuck, Seioni.” 

Seioni nearly flinches back at his tone, the anger seeping between them implausible. It's evident he’d been feeling like this for a while, and the reaction was worse than she wanted it to be. When she goes to open her mouth, it’s cut off by the sudden sound of screaming coming from downstairs—they belonged to Megumi. 

The both of them take off without question. When they take sight of the living room, they see Megumi standing in the middle of the marble, holding his arm that’s welted red.

“What happened?” Toji snarls, Seioni immediately picking him up, her heart beating as she says, “What happened to your arm?”

“I looked away for two seconds and his little bad ass put one of his toys in the toilet, and now it’s overflowed!” Her aunt shouts, the look on her brother and father’s face full of shock.

“Did you hit him?” Seioni’s eyes go wide, Megumi’s heavy crying filling her ear as he leans into her chest.

Toji thought he was going to have to kill someone. He saw red, only focused on the welt within his child’s arm. He looks to her mom as he squints, “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Why would you hit him? My fuckin’ child? Are you fuckin’ stupid?”

“He needs to learn! Y’all don’t seem to be teaching him shit! putting goddamn toys in the toilet—“

“That's for me to teach him!” Toji yells, deep voice having the entire villa shake, “You don’t get to tell me what the fuck to do about my kid! You and your insolent ass sister have too much liquor in your fuckin’ systems to have some sense!” 

“Aye, watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talking to my mom,” Nova warns, Seioni’s brother now glaring at Toji.

Toji was done.

“Or what, huh? ‘The fuck are you gonna do?” Toji’s fists clenched, his muscles becoming tense as he looked at Nova. “You wanna throw hands over your mom, you go right ahead. I’ll make you swallow your motherfuckin’ teeth.” 

Chaos ensues at this point. Megumi was still crying, Seioni tries to hold back Toji who lunges at Nova, and Seioni’s father holds back Nova who cusses out Toji right behind her mom and aunt that do the same. She feels overwhelmed, her worst fears coming to life—her entire family was falling apart. It gets so bad that the villa’s host had heard them from his part of the house, coming in and taking hold of Megumi who nearly falls in Seioni’s arms from tugging at Toji. 

“Stop it!” 

Her voice screams out, gripping Toji fully, tears masking in her vision, her cries catching the attention of the entire family—they’d never heard her raise her voice like that.

They all go silent, even Toji, who is breathing heavily. They all look at Seioni, and Toji is just surprised to be witnessing her on the verge of tears. She’d never looked so distraught. 

The room is filled with silence before her voice speaks up again, this time much less aggressive, much more vulnerable, almost like she was begging to be heard.

“This trip was supposed to be about me. I’ve been all over the place with this pregnancy, and the one thing I wanted was the support of all of you, and to enjoy my time here with my family, and yours all about to fuckin’ kill each other!” 

She raises her voice again, the entire room flinching, shocked to see her like this. She places her hand over her face as she sobs, trying to calm herself as she begins hyperventilating, “I didn’t…I didn’t even get to see one venue…”

The sight of her crying like this makes Toji’s heart want to drop. He frowns, becoming more pissed off at how upset they’ve all made her.

“Baby—“

“No, Fushiguro. Everything’s just…fucking ruined…” she continues to cry, high pitched as she gasps to try to control her breathing.

Toji swallows the lump in his throat, his chest feeling heavy as she speaks. She’s right, this was supposed to be about her, a time for her to get away from all the stress of pregnancy and relax. But instead, they all got wrapped up in their own emotions. 

Everyone feels a pang of guilt. The silence is heavy as Megumi blinks within the hosts’ arms, seeing Seioni’s tears, trying to understand her emotions. 

“Oni’, sad?”

She hears the small voice, her focus now going back to him. He shouldn’t have had to see the bullshit of this situation. 

With that, she politely takes him into her arms, cradling him as she begins making her way out of the villa. Toji’s deep voice calls for her, “Seioni—Seioni!”  going to go after her when her father then says, “Just let her go, Toji. She’ll be fine. She just needs time.”

Toji grinds his teeth at those words, wanting to go after her. He hates leaving her alone when she’s upset, but her father was right. She just needed some time. But that didn’t make leaving any easier. 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he looks back at her family. Nova looks upset, her mom and aunt looking somewhat guilty. No one dared to speak after their outburst, so the living room remained tense.

Seioni makes her way out onto the beach, going farther than she planned for herself to. She walked for what felt like almost twenty minutes, finding a small patch of rocks, a seating area with flowers surrounding it. She sees from afar as children play by the water, placing Megumi beside her as she clumps the sand up for his attention, just needing the comfort of him knowing he wouldn’t have much to say. She then sighs, watching as the sun sets, placing her hands over her belly, rubbing gently. 

“You’re causing havoc before you even get here, Y’know that?” She looks down to her stomach.

The evening wind blows as the sun slowly falls, washing over Seioni’s face, which is puffy and red from her previous tears. As she sits on the little rock, she speaks to her belly, the sound of her baby’s heartbeat filling her ears as she touches her stomach. She finds herself surrounded by tranquility, the soft waves of the water and the laughter of children bringing her comfort.

She then looks at Megumi, leaning her hand out as he wraps his small fingers around her index. She says softly to him, “Oni’ love Megumi. And Papa.”

Megumi takes hold of her finger, his tiny hand around her index. His large round eyes look up at her, a look of curiosity within his gaze. His little nose scrunches as he tries to say something back, but nothing comes out aside from a few babbles, making his little pink lips pursed together.

She giggles, opening her palm as he pats his hand against hers a couple of times, blowing raspberries into his other hand. All of her guilt hits her, despite everyone being the cause of their own issues. She wished her mom and aunt hadn’t been so rude at times, she wishes Toji wasn’t so easy to anger, but she also wishes that she had stood up for him, for Megumi. She loved them both so much, and this was now her family as well. With that, she decides to sit in silence with Megumi, watching as the sun goes down.

                        ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆

A COUPLE HOURS HAD PASSED, and the family was becoming more nervous. When they realized that Seioni wasn’t anywhere near the villa, they also found out she didn’t have her phone. They sent the host to go look for her, Toji nearly about to have a nervous breakdown as he thought the worse.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Toji,” Noel tells him, trying to get him to relax.

“She doesn’t have her phone, and she’s on an island she’s never been to. Pregnant. With fuckin’ Megumi,” he’s angry, he’s unsure why, he just wants to see her. Make sure she’s okay. Was she lost?

“Talking to her while she’s still upset won’t do anything but make shit worse,” he reminds.

Her mother and aunt sit along the couch, now drinking water instead of their usual mimosa or wine cooler. They both feel bad about the way they’ve been speaking to Seioni and her fiancè. 

Her aunt sighs, “Look—we’re so sorry, Toji. Everything that happened was just—wrong. Our control issues, hitting Megumi, trying to tell you what to do—You’re a good father, and will be an amazing husband.”

Her mom then nods her head, “She’s right. We’re happy to have you in our family, Toji. We’re so sorry about everything that’s happened.”

Toji exhales deeply, the words from her mother and aunt bringing him a sense of comfort, though he's still anxious as to when she'd return. He glances out the windows, the sun fully falling now in the distance. 

"We can talk about this later, but I appreciate it. I just wanna make sure my wife is okay.”

“We’ cool too, right? I only was about to fight cause you were talking crazy to my momma, although it was fair. She get on my damn nerves too, you’re cool as fuck, though,” Nova finds his way of apologizing, his mom smacking the back of his head for his words.

Toji lets out a gruff sigh and turns to Nova, giving him a small nod. He didn't blame the guy for being protective, he probably would've done the same thing. His words get a small laugh from him. 

"We’re good. You were trying to look out for your mom. I can't blame you for that.“

Tension comes off of everyone, and the room feels lighter. But one thing remained the same—Seioni was still missing. 

Another hour and a half passed, and Toji was now frustrated, still worried, but even more irritated. She entered back into the villa without saying anything, holding Megumi’s hand as she let him walk.  

The minute she closed the door, Toji was the first one to speak up, “And where the fuck have you been?”

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but he missed her greatly. He was scared shitless for anything to happen to her. 

Seioni lets go of Megumi, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at Toji, not replying to his aggression. 

Her mom takes that notion as she stands, “How about we all go take a walk on the beach and let these two talk, hm?”

Nova swoops Megumi into his arms, everyone practically flying out of the house—including the host—closing the door behind themselves. Seioni then begins making her way upstairs, Toji nearly breaking his neck as he watches her walk away from him, saying nothing. He of course follows behind her.

“So I’m not talking right now? ‘The fuck am I being ignored for?”

“I’m fine, Toji. Okay? I’m fine, you see? I’m here,” she clarifies, “I just needed space.”

"You've been gone for damn near three hours. Excuse me for being worried.” He snaps back, his worry slowly becoming anger. He steps closer towards her, his voice still low. 

“What if something happened? You didn’t have your phone, alone on an fuckin’ island—“

Her usual response would’ve been to snap back at him. But she can see the tense in his shoulders, the drain in his face. She comes forward, bringing her hands to his face as she pulls him down, “Hey,” she says softly, “I’m fine, Fushiguro.” 

She knows he’s not angry at her— he was terrified—and didn’t know how to show it. She can feel him nearly shaking, wrapping her arms around his neck as she inhales his scent.

 She says quietly, “I missed you too.”

When she grabs his face, he almost flinches, not anticipating the action. But as soon as she speaks, his shoulders slightly relax. 

He feels her arms around his neck, and his arms instinctively go to her waist, his hands grabbing her hips as he tugs her body against his. He buries his face into her neck, breathing her in as he feels himself shake. His voice is hoarse as he talks, not pulling away from her just yet. 

“I was scared as hell.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “I just…needed time to think.” 

Her tone makes him replay everything that’s happened on this trip, and he feels guilty, wishing he would’ve been more upfront about his feelings, wishing it hadn’t gotten this far.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, his voice quiet. His hands tighten around her hips as he moves his face close to hers. “I should’ve been honest.”

She then pulls him back down, clutching him as if she feels like he would pull away at any second. She muffles into his shirt, “You’re a great dad—please know that. You’ll be an equally amazing husband, baby.”

He closes his eyes and buries his face back into her neck, his chest rising and falling as he tries to slow his racing heart. Her words bring comfort to him, and they make him feel better, but he can’t stop feeling guilty about what’s happened. 

“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he grunts into her neck.

“I love you too,” she says softly, “I’m sorry I’ve also been…distant. I’m just—I’m not used to this whole pregnancy thing. I feel like…I’m not as attractive as I used to be.”

He listens intently as she speaks, feeling her breath against his neck. He pulls back to look at her, seeing the look of vulnerability across her features. It makes his chest clench tighter, seeing the insecurity in her eyes. 

“You are,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, “You’re sexy as hell, baby. You couldn’t change that even if you wanted to.” He gently touches her face, his eyes staring into hers.

Here go those tears she’d been trying to hold. Seioni gives a weak laugh as she quickly tries to wipe face, Toji brushing her cheek as he drags his hands down to her throat, clutching her forward, his eyes growing dark as he can feel she doesn’t believe his words.  

He grunts, “C’mere,” clutching her lips under his mouth. The aggression makes Seioni’s breath hitch, her tears spraying along her cheeks as she feels his body radiating a feeling she hadn’t endured in a while—lust. And he had been so patient with her.

“Toji—“

 Her voice is of a desperation he hadn’t heard in a while, her legs feeling weak as his lips are against her neck, quipping a match along her skin, blazing a fire within him. God, he’s missed the sound of her.

The way his body heats up as he kisses her, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed with desire, and it only gets worse the more tears fall down her cheeks. He has to show her what she means to him. 

She squeals lightly as he effortlessly wraps her legs around his hips, carrying her over towards the bed. Her eyes stare right across from the large mirror within their room. Her reflection. A heart beat thumps in Seioni’s chest as he raises her legs over his shoulders, dropping down onto his knees, ache, hunger within his eyes as hers are closed. 

“Keep your fuckin’ eyes open. Look at me.”

Her gasp could’ve shaken the house. He shoved her dress back, his tongue instantly dragging up her core, moaning against her like she was a desert he hadn’t tasted in a while. 

“Been wanting your pussy in my mouth since we got here, Baby. Fuck.” 

Seioni legs tremble to where she couldn’t control them, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she gripped his hair, kneeling back as her chest faltered. His head bobs up and down, slurping against her pussy in a way that makes a loud sound against the room. Her body quivers as she whimpers, “O—Oh—f—fuck, baby.”

Toji growls against her, the vibrations sending shudders through her body. His hands move to grip her thighs, holding her in place as he continues to devour her. He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he looks up at her. "You're so fuckin’ wet," he groans, his fingers tracing circles on her inner thigh. “I missed the taste of you." 

Seioni’s body buzzes as his head quickly dips back down between her legs, his tongue delving inside of her once again. He uses one hand to spread her opening wider, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of her. He licks and sucks at her clit, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh before moving lower to lap at her entrance.

She feels flustered, her face warm as she looks at herself within the mirror. Her large belly, her flushed cheeks. She closes her eyes again. Her heart skips a beat when she feels one of his hands snake up through her body, pulling her face right to the mirror across from them, spreading her legs wider. 

His free hand reaches around to cup one of her breasts, thumb rubbing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he whispers, "So beautiful... I want to fuck you everywhere..."

Her breath hitches in response, “Baby, I…” 

“That’s not my name,” Toji grunts, bringing his face back down, sucking her clit into his mouth, groaning as he shakes his head from side to side, digging his lips deeper against her arousal that begins collecting against his jaw. 

He holds her leg up by the ankles now, “Look at me eating your pussy, fuckin’ love every second of it. You taste like heaven. Can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.” 

She nearly throws her hands over her face, the warmth going into pure heat as she whimpers, “Stop it, Fushiguro,” shuddering as he deeply kisses her core, dragging his tongue down to her opening. 

“Shut the fuck up. Gonna put my tongue in you so deep, baby. Wanna see you squirt on my face. I miss that shit.”

She gasps, placing her hands back in his hair as he does exactly what he promised, spitting against her core before he takes it back into his mouth. He then pulls back, sticking his tongue out as he pushes it into her opening, listening to it squelch. He moans right when she moans, spreading her legs wider, rolling his jaw forward as he fucks his mouth deeper into her.

Toji continues to feast on Seioni's wet folds. He can't get enough of her taste, his tip throbbing painfully against his pants. The sounds she makes only serve to spur him on, driving him wild with lust. He feels her grip his hair tightly, her hips bucking against his face as she tries to chase her release.

He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he stares up at her. His eyes are glazed with desire, his lips glistening with her juices. He grins wickedly as he sees the desperation in her eyes, his own need mirrored there. "Not gonna stop until you cum all over my face," he growls, diving back in with renewed vigor.

The feeling is all too intense for her, body shaking as she messily groans, “Mmm—f—fuck,” it transferring out into a gasp and whine, her lower body relaxing as she cums  into his mouth, not giving her enough time to enjoy the feeling of him eating at her. The reaction makes him arrogantly chuckle, her body jumping more as he spanks her in response, “Ooh, that’s fuckin’ good baby. You’re sensitive. You’re gonna cum on my dick just like that.”

She feels like she could black out at any moment, holding onto him for dear life as he brings his attention back up to her clit. He then takes two of his fingers, sliding them deep into her. Her pussy pushes out air as a reaction, her head falling back as she whines in response, staring down as she whimpers, “Fushiguro…”

"So fuckin’ tight," he groans, his free hand reaching down to unzip his pants. His tip springs free, already leaking pre-cum, needing her.

“Fingers feel too big,” she whimpers, the longing of anything inside her making her feel a pinch at just his fingers—she wasn’t sure what she could handle. 

“I’m gonna stretch your shit out, give you the dick you’ve been crying for,” he grunts, his fingers slamming into her, sloshing against her walls, erogenous and fluttering around his palm. 

“Missed your fuckin’ pussy, baby,” he leans down, giving a gentle kiss on her thigh, “You’ missed me?” 

Seioni let out a deep breath, nodding her head as she whimpered out, “Missed you so much, baby.”

His eyes go dark, reminding her, “That’s not my name. You’ know my fuckin’ name. Say that shit.”

She felt herself falling apart already, her mind and body feeling fuzzy as she spreads her legs wider, “Keep eating my pussy,” she begs to him, another spank palming along the back of her thigh.

His eyes came up, “You’re begging me now?” 

She nods her head, “Want it so bad,” she whimpers. 

“No you don’t. Keep fuckin’ begging.”

She holds him by his hair, grinding her pussy against his face, sucking air into her mouth as his tongue delves in and out of her, the spread of her legs feeling so good. She felt like an addict, suddenly needing more from him.

His smirk grows wider at her response, his fingers digging into her thighs as he keeps going. His tongue swirls around her clit before sucking it into his mouth, humming in delight at the taste of her.

“N—Need more of you so fuckin’ bad, baby. Please…” she begs, bringing her hands to where her legs are, holding them up herself.

 It makes him chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ nasty, baby,” grunting, spanking her in repetitions. 

When he comes up, her arms feel numb as she tries to grip onto him, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he huffs to her, “Taste yourself,” gripping her throat.

He can feel her shaking, her body trembling. It had been a while since she felt this good, a slight pressure releasing, but not fully. As he stands, he clutches her by her hair, pulling her to where she gets on her knees, dragging her back towards the edge of the bed as he says, “You know how I want you—get on all fours.”

She complies, almost missing this side of him, the primal, animalistic side he tried to hold back with her pregnancy. She obliges, pressing her palms and knees against the bed, arching herself to the best of her ability. Her cheeks feel warm as she’s still looking directly at herself. 

He briefly pauses his dominant gestures as he asks, “You’ okay, baby? Need a pillow so you’re comfortable?”

She blinks, then nods her head. That didn’t feel like enough to him. 

“Use your fuckin’ words,” he commands with a grip to her hair, his palm lightly patting against her face. She nods, becoming more aroused as she says softly, “Yes, please. Thank you, Daddy.”

It’s all he’d been looking for. 

He takes a pillow as he places it under her belly, giving her another soft kiss, then making her entire body jump as he spanks her with his palm. She watches as he removes his shirt, her mouth practically watering at the sight of him. She places her hands along his hard stomach, running her fingers down as she moans, “Missed you so-so much, baby.”

She’s tugging at his pants, unable to help herself as she’s pulling his dick from beneath his boxers, already wrapping her lips around his tip. Her eyes are feline, mischievous as she wraps her fingers around the base of him, bobbing her head as she begins to seductively suck.

She sticks her tongue out, slapping it along her taste buds that makes him smirk down, tugging her hair as he gently smacks his hand along her face, “Missed my dick like that, huh?” 

She nods her head, the shyness she had before trying to break its walls down. He groans as she pulls her head forward, shoving his dick into the back of her throat, filling her entire mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her head, jaw lax as she chokes. It makes his head tilt back, gritting his teeth as he reaches forward, slamming his palm against her ass.

She pulls him out of her mouth as she rotates her hand against his tip, “Want you to fuck me from behind, please.”

In a way, he feels evil. Purposely wanting her in front of the mirror—he loved watching her, and he loved to make her watch herself. 

He’s now behind her, making sure the pillow is directly beneath her stomach, pressing kisses along her neck, clutching her throat from behind. He then pulls himself up, his broad frame large above hers, eyes dark as he watches her face. 

Seioni’s hips jerk as she feels his tip in between her folds, swollen and calling to pull him in. 

They both listen to themselves, a tight clutch returning  in the mess of her hair as he slowly and agonizingly pushes into her. Her eyes fall close, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her. She digs her teeth into her lip, desperately trying to hold back the music that wants to spill from her mouth. But as he wraps his fingers around her throat from behind, mouth by her ear as he says, “Wanna feel just how much you miss me,” rolling his hips deeper into her, Seioni’s eyes roll to the back of her head, a whine shivering from her lips as she cums again, gushing out after several seconds. 

His fingers somehow slide into her mouth as she loses her mind, moaning incoherently as she pants against his palm, eyes striking back to the mirror. Toji groans against her throat, sultrily laughing as he begins dragging her back onto him, grinding his hips forward, listening to their skin clap together. 

“Shit,” baby,” she moans onto his fingers, Toji against her ear as he grunts, “Yeah? This all you wanted?” 

He clutches her mouth, the bite of her teeth is the grip he has on her, Seioni only able to hear the way their skin latches onto one another before letting go, wanting to hear it again, again, and again. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” she whines, unable to hold her mouth back, feeling like she was about to spiral.

Her body felt on overdrive, it being so long since she felt this type of pleasure. Her eyes watch them within the mirror, Toji’s broad frame practically shadowing hers, tugging her back onto his abdomen, the sound within the room too filthy to listen to. 

She turns her head slightly, her eyes looking up to his as she trembles, “Missed you…missed you inside me…”

Toji growls, "You don't need to miss anything, baby." He rolls his hips, pushing his length deeper into her warmth. "Just let me take care of you.”

She then whimpered softly, “…Feeling a little uncomfortable though, baby,” the position making her back begin to ache from the arch of it, an unfortunate case from her pregnancy. 

He obviously didn’t want to hurt her, taking the pillow and laying it horizontally, positioning her body to where she now lays on her side against the bed. He positions himself behind her as he holds one of her legs upwards, making sure the both of them are still reflected into the mirror.

His hand rubs over her stomach affectionately, positioning his tip between her folds from behind, his palm coming between her legs. He then lifts her outer leg, finding her clit and rubbing gently as he asks, “Feel good, baby? Need to stop?” All while peppering kisses against her neck. She grabs his hair from behind, moaning softly as she nods her head, “I’m okay…Keep going, please.”

He groans deeply as he thrusts into her, his hand reaching around to cup her breasts. He continues to move in and out of her, his thrusts deep and powerful, lips attaching to her ear, the feeling making her shiver. When his hand clasps back around for her throat,her eyes appear back open, seeing the sight in front of her. His broad frame captures from behind, holding her leg with one hand, clasping her throat with the other, eyes dark and hooded, grunting within her ear. She realizes just how much this man found her attractive, and it made her more horny. He loved her.

“Look at you,” he talks within her ear, holding her down as he snaps his hips, “So fuckin’ pretty, so fuckin’ needy for me. Missed you…so fuckin’ much baby…” he grunts out the last words, it slipping into a moan, Seioni turning her head, sticking her tongue out in a way of asking for a kiss.

He leans down, capturing her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. His free hand reaches up to grip her hair, pulling it slightly as he pushes his dick deeper inside of her.

When her eyes fall down to the bed, Toji grips her face, pointing her directly at the mirror as he says, “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Gonna have all my kids, my fuckin’ wife.” ” 

His voice makes something within her feel emotional. All of her insecurities melted into her brain, her eyes feeling like they were close to filling with tears as she moaned within his mouth, clutching his face in her hands as she whimpered, attempting not to allow herself to cry. 

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re too pretty for that,” he grunts, yanking her hips back, “Cry cause’ I’m fuckin’ you so good.” 

She whimpers again, “You’re just saying all that ‘cause you love me.”

He chuckles, "Maybe." He continues thrusting into her, his pace unrelenting. His hand leaves her hip, moving down to her clit where he begins rubbing circles around it. "But mostly 'cause you're driving me fuckin’ crazy," he growls, nipping at her earlobe.

She twists her head, raising her face to meet his mouth as she trembles, “L—Love you so much…”

“Only other times you’re sweet and shit,” he says against her ear, listening to the way she trembles out another gasp, “Is when you’re about to cum.”

He takes one hand as he places it along her shoulder, the other on her hip, eyes dropping down to watch the way her ass bounces onto his abdomen, leaving a collection of arousal each time he digs deeper into her.

 He groans, feeling his own orgasm approach rapidly. He lifts her off his dick momentarily, lining himself up before slamming into her harder.

It makes her gasp deeply, her legs quivering to where she tries to press her palm onto her thigh to stop the shaking, feeling a hand grab hers, holding it up to her throat and trapping it along his palm as he fucked her even harder. 

His lips are against her ear, heavily breathing, his own stomach forming butterflies. He tries to suppress the low moan that drops from his mouth as he talks, “All that creaming on my dick, need you to cum.” 

Her voice is gone, eyes flutter shut as she can’t stop hyperventilating, talking through her gasps, “Gonna’ cum, Daddy…”

He snarls, his grip on her wrist tightening. "Then fuckin’ cum on me, Mama," he orders, his thrusts becoming brutal, “Would give you another fuckin’ baby if I could. Pussy is…” he grunts, a sound she hadn’t expected coming from him, a whimper as his eyes tightly shut, “So fuckin’ good, baby. Fuck. I love you.”

That sound sends her over the edge. Her entire body halts as she goes quiet, hearing the sound of herself gushing out, orgasm taking over her entire frame as she hides her face within the sheet, sobbing as he continues slamming her ass down onto his hips. The hand still on her neck drags up to her jaw, forcing her eyes back to the mirror again. 

“Fuckin’ love looking at you…” he pants, “All mine. Gonna be all mine, can’t fuckin’…” he whimpers again, “Can’t wait, baby.” 

He then turns her head, swallowing her sobs as he thrusts harder, clutching her face as he moans into her mouth, it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. A warmth fills her, their breaths collected together as they pant heavily.

She could still feel Toji’s hand upon her face, dragging his thumb against her jaw, taking in the way she looked at the moment. Vulnerable—connected to him. 

“You’re gonna be an amazing mother, baby.” 

Her eyes come open as she hears that, blinking at his words. It felt meaningful to her, she couldn’t have asked for a better partner. She takes his hand as she kisses it, turning over as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

As they laid in each other’s embrace, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the air, Toji’s fingers danced along her body. He traced every curve and line, committing every inch of her to memory. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for her to be in his arms. The woman of his dreams was in front of him, in his arms, with their child growing in her womb. 

The moment wasn’t ruined— but felt to be cut short as it sounded like the door opening to the villa. They heard the voice of her brother call, “Aye! Scream if y’all in here fuckin’!”

They then heard the sound of a smack—Nova getting palmed in the back of his head by her mom— as she says, “Shut up! Just cause you can’t get none doesn’t mean they can’t!—but if y’all are in here having sex, have some decorum! There’s a baby in the house!”

Toji grins into Seion’s neck as he hears her mother smack her brother. He presses a gentle kiss into her throat as he chuckles, “There goes your loud ass family.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs, accepting the kiss, “We should get dressed, I’m starving.” 

“When are you not hungry, Pac-Man?” 

“Oh?” she blinks, “That was a fat joke. I’m gone!”

She holds her belly as she begins coming off of the bed, Toji trying to hold back his laugh as she’s waddling around, searching for the dress she previously wore. 

“You’ laughing? This shit is funny?”

“Nope,” he raises his hands up, “You’ mad? Don’t love me no more? You were just calling me by my second na—“

“Fushiguro!” 

“Why are we going downstairs? We can always stay up here and discuss why I think this baby should be named Toji-Seioni-Megumi-Jr?” 

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

“That’s cool. We got time.”

Seioni groans as she continues waddling for the bathroom, throwing her middle finger up as he sarcastically blows a kiss at her. She was annoyed within the moment, but one thing she could agree to—they had time. An eternity of it.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George. 

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.” 

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.” 

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that. 

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf  inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged. 

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop. 

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself. 

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk. 

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day. 

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations. 

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?” 

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates. 

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk. 

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression. 

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety. 

Your book is here. 

It’s Y/N, by the way. 

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable. 

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do. 

That day, you don’t get a message back. 

You get a call instead. 

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too. 

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher. 

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call. 

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.” 

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.” 

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” 

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?” 

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.” 

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with. 

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?” 

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript. 

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on. 

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house. 

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky. 

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him. 

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding. 

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would. 

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore. 

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee. 

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!” 

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same. 

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you. 

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it. 

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you. 

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away. 

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you. 

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.” 

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section. 

“What just happened?” 

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help. 

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?” 

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

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AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

[landossnorriss]

i see you | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she.

Summary: a new voice appears on the radio to get lando through the end of the hungary race. part 2 here.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: we've taken some liberties on whose allowed on the team radio ok? i'm in mourning. this is also my first time writing for f1 or lando so >.>

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the small crackle in his ear was a sure sign that someone was about to patronise him again. for years, for years he had bled for mclaren. he'd turned down calls from horner and the men in red, he'd turned his nose to them every single time and now he finally had a chance to put a closer dent in his gap on the world championship and they just wanted him to give it up. it wasn't fair, oscar couldn't even keep up he was the fastes-

"lan?" the quiet voice that appeared in his ear shocked him, his frown forming in his helmet.

"love? now they're using you to get to me?" he scoffed at the thought, his foot on the throttle a little harder as he made his way around turn 11. fuck the team orders, they couldn't do this to him.

for her part, his girl could feel the guilt eating at her chest. "i think so." she'd wanted to smack will when he had looked at her pleadingly from the garage. "but you tell me right now, if you want this win and i'll fight will for the radio for the rest of the race, i'll be out of here so quick and i'll cut them off, give you the time you need." she offered and lando knew she meant it. his girl was quiet, preferred to stay out of the lime light and would always pick his jolly over the flash cars he had, but when it came down to it she was scrappy.

a small smile appeared on the racers face as he thought about the sight, honestly he hoped she managed to trip will and cause some momentary damage. noting he had gone quiet she let her head drop a little, eyes closing as she tried to imagine was going through his head. "my love...can you look at him in the morning if you don't let him past now?" she asked quietly, ignoring the glares that were surrounding her in the pit wall.

"it's a win baby, i need to prove that i can win on my own after miami and i need...i need those points for the championship."

"so drive, put your throttle down lan, drive and don't stop till the flag if you can live with being that man, but i know you and i love you and i'll love you regardless of what you chose right now but i also know you and this won't be winning on your own merit, this will haunt you my love and he'd do it for you, you know he'd do it for you."

lando paused again, swallowing as he rounded the corner. "you'd love me even if i took the win?"

"even then." and now she was pretty sure will was going to murder her if she ever surrendered this radio, at the very least, andreas was never letting her back in the garage.

"you'll love me more if i give osc the spot back?" he hated how unsure his voice sounded as he asked the question and her heart broke for him over how much she knew he would tare into himself later.

"no lando, my love for you isn't based on what you do in that car, not ever, its the man that comes home to me i care about." chewing on her lip she let her gaze flicker to the monitors. "the pit lane straight is coming up..." the comment hung in the air between them and she watched as it happened, 6 seconds, 5.3 seconds, 4 seconds - lando was letting him past.

"you're my winner lando." she whispered softly into the radio, silently wiping the tear that fell at his act. the look of relief around the pit wall was enough to make her guilt grow even more, at what they had cost lando today, what they had made her do. if they could just get their damn strategies right he wouldn't have been put in this position in the first place, he'd had been free to race as he came out behind oscar but instead she would piece together the pieces they threatened to break again as she took care of him tonight.

"i love you so much." lando urged as he watched oscar fly past him, his heart stopping for a moment before his foot found the throttle again. he didn't want to hear wills voice again, not right now and they could make it through two more laps without his help anyway. "will you stay with me for the rest of the race?" he asked because wins and races could come and go so long as he had her.

her eyes flickered to andreas on the wall from where she knew he was listening, watching as he nodded. "confirmed norris, i'm with you till the end." they didn't say much as he finished his race but she kept the line open with him. if the rest of the world would have something to say about the lovers simply existing together for the next two minutes then let them, she was the only one who saw him sometimes she was sure, the only one who knew what he had just done would be doing to him inside.

the chequered flag came and she checked the screens once more before making the call. "that's p2 baby, p2, you know what to do from here." sliding from her chair she didn't bother to take the head set off as she made her way through the garage and out through the pit lane to where she knew lando would soon be parking. she was easy to spot with the bright yellow merch she wore, forever a lando girl over mclaren and her eyes shiny as she watched her man move to congratulate oscar. it left a bitter taste in her mouth, that the win would be tainted by shitty team orders but she'd get to celebrating with oscar later once she knew her driver was ok.

she continued to chew at her lip as lando removed his helmet, the green eyes she knew so well looking around for her and she let her smile return at the way his shoulder visibly relaxed at the sight of her. lando was slow to move, not wanting to risk any more hate that he already knew he was going to get but there was only one thing he wanted right now. the hands he felt cupping his face, an instant sanctuary for the male. "i see you lan." the soft words that meant more to him than even love would.

leaning forward lando let the gap between them close, his lips find hers softly for a moment. normally she would pull away and scald him, knowing just how many cameras were in this pit lane to capture the moment but he needed her more now than she needed to shrink into the shadows. "i'm so damn proud of you." she whispered against his lips, fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his head and her chest settling now that she could hold him once more.

he'd never been as good with words as she had, always seemingly saying the same thing but he wanted to try, for her. "you mean more to me than all this you know?" he could already hear the people calling his name for media duties and as tempting as it was to just face the fines, grab his girl and vanish, lando knew that it would be better for the team if he saved them face. all the blood he'd lost for them still had to count for something right? taking a final second to lock in her face, lando lent forward for a final singular kiss. "i'll see you in my drivers room." he promised before he stepped away.

with a small nod she moved back, eyes filled with tears once more as he stepped up to take the mike from nico and he demonstrated once more why he was the man she adored. racing could continue to test him all it wanted, but she would be the anchor whilst he weathered any storm for as long as he needed her.