#bad reputation header

[hollywedits]

REPUTATION by Taylor Swift.

[thataintmymerlot]

reputation // part .2

...ready for it? // I did something bad // don't blame me

in case you save it, please like or reblog✩°｡⋆⸜

part 1

[feverdreamhighh]

⋆˙⟡𓆗 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘 𓆗⋆˙⟡

ft. extra headers

𓆗 CREDIT APPRECIATED BUT UNNECESSARY⋆˙⟡

𓆗 LIKE + REBLOG IF YOU SAVE/USE⋆˙⟡

[fazmid]

maybe it's too bold to change my icon to a game i'm barely into yet but the little cut-in expressions in p5 are so endearing...

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 01

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Sukuna smokes a cigarette in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

The first time you meet Sukuna, you literally run into him.

It's a Thursday morning. You are running down the hallway while rummaging through your bag, searching for the printed copy of the short story that you have to hand in today. The irony isn't lost on you. The story contains a scene quite similar to this. But unfortunately, you aren't a rebel princess running out of a ballroom with her cloak dramatically billowing behind her. You are just a creative writing student in a mismatched pair of sneakers who is late for her class. The second time this week. To a class taught by a professor who sees it as a personal affront if someone shows up late.

You grit your teeth, trying to run even faster, when you finally see the printed copy you were looking for. You cheer inwardly. But your relief is short-lived. Because a second later, you crash into a solid wall.

You screech in shock, the force of the impact making you flat-out keel over without any warning. This will hurt, is the only thought that flashes through your mind. But a millisecond before you hit the hard floor tiles, your fall gets stopped, and you get pulled up again and set back on your feet. Everything happens so fast that you can only blink in confusion.

A pair of well-defined, tattooed arms comes into view. You stare perplexed at them, realizing that they are what stopped your fall. And what you also realize at that moment is that the "solid wall" you slammed into is the tall and muscular owner of those strong arms.

Your face is currently only inches away from his chest. A broad and buff chest in a soft-looking white hoodie with a very familiar crest embroidered on the front. Two crossed hockey sticks and a tiger with glowing red eyes and his mouth opening in a feral-looking growl.

Your head snaps up to look at the face of your savior (and the cause of your fall), and what already began to dawn on you gets confirmed the moment you see the tattoos on his handsome face: You just ran full speed into Itadori Sukuna, the star player of the ice hockey team. The Red Tiger himself, The King of the Ice, and whatever other titles he gets called.

Even though you are hardly a hockey fan, you know Sukuna. Everyone knows him.

Sukuna gets treated like royalty on this campus. He's a living legend. The star player of The Red Tigers, the most successful ice hockey team this college has brought out in over five decades. And Sukuna is the reason for that success.

You gulp hard and take a hurried step back.

Out of anyone you could have crashed into, why did it have to be him? Sukuna is feared on and off the ice. You have never spoken to him personally, only saw him from afar while heading to class or when you were at the same party as him, but his reputation as a bad boy precedes him. And the way he looks with his face tattoos and his strong and tall build only adds to those assumptions. Sukuna is definitely a very intimidating guy.

Your automatic response is to try to make yourself look as harmless and cute as possible, smiling a sheepish, apologetic smile at him.

"I'm so sorry! I was late for class, so I ran, and I didn't see you. Sorry!"

You look up at him with big eyes and a nervous smile, steeling yourself for a scolding.

But Sukuna just eyes you with an amused expression on his tattooed face. His eyes travel lazily over your face and body, making you more nervous with each passing second. You feel your cheeks become hot when Sukuna's gaze finally lands on your mismatched shoes, and the corners of his lips twitch.

You silently curse yourself for snoozing your alarm one too many times and ending up like this in front of the hot boy hockey star of all people!

Sukuna is looking directly into your eyes now, his lips lifted in a lopsided smirk.

"I don't mind getting bodychecked by a pretty girl like you. It would be different if it were an opponent on the ice, but you will get away with it, princess."

You are dumbfounded for a moment, mouth opening and closing several times. Is he mocking you? You eye Sukuna wearily as you mutter,

"Um, well... Thank you for catching me before I landed on the floor."

Sukuna just looks at you a moment longer with that lazy grin, and then he bends down to pick up the bag you dropped. He pushes it into your arms, and you grab it instinctively and hug it tightly to your chest as if it is your lifeline.

"And thank you for the bag."

You add while once again smiling sheepishly at him. Sukuna laughs softly, cocking his head and looking at you with an infuriatingly smug grin,

"Don't thank me so much. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have fallen in the first place."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. But still, thank you."

You cringe at your own words, sure that you sound like a total idiot, but you force yourself to smile broadly at Sukuna and wish him a nice day before you turn around and walk toward the creative writing classroom on rather wobbly legs. At least you don't have to hurry anymore, you think grimly. By now, you are definitely too late.

There's a prickling feeling on your neck as if you are being watched, and you are pretty sure that if you looked over your shoulder, you would see Sukuna still standing there and looking at you with that amused glint in his eyes.

You refuse to give in to the urge to check if you are right and instead keep walking. But your pulse is still racing. From the almost fall or from Sukuna's presence, you aren't sure.

You slip into the classroom, and your professor sends a death glare your way, snapping at you for not taking her course seriously and all thoughts of a certain pink-haired, tattooed hockey player are wiped off your mind as you mutter an apology, and you hurry to the nearest free seat.

You encounter Sukuna again a few days later.

You stand outside the Gojo Hall waiting for your dormmate Nobara when you catch a flash of pastel pink in the corner of your eyes. You lift your head and spot not only one pink head but two. The Itadori twins exit the building side by side, Sukuna, and Yuuji, both wearing their white team hoodies, making you wonder if there is some rule that the players must wear their team apparel 24/7.

You are still contemplating the secret rules of the hockey team when the brothers give each other a high five, and Yuuji leaves with a big smile on his face while Sukuna turns his head, and his gaze instantly lands on you.

Your eyes widen, feeling like the deer in the headlights. You curse yourself inwardly. Why did you let him catch you staring at him?

A smirk appears on Sukuna's tattooed face, and to your horror, he strolls towards you.

You try to act cool, nodding lightly at him, a short greeting in passing. Only to feel your heart jump to your throat when you realize that Sukuna won't just walk by. The resident hockey star stops beside you and casually leans against the brick wall right next to where you stand.

He lets his head fall back and tilts his face to the side, smirking down at you.

"No mismatched shoes today?"

You can't help it, a laugh bubbles out of your chest even as you feel your face get hot. You shake your head,

"Wasn't really my style."

"And here I thought you were some fashion icon or something. Did you make it to class in time after our little accident?"

You scrunch your nose as you remember the angry look and the mean comment your professor sent your way and shake your head,

"No. And now my professor hates me even more."

Sukuna laughs softly. He is so tall that you have to tilt your head back to look at his face. He looks good. Too good. Dangerously so. His pink hair is a pretty contrast to the dark red brick stones behind him. His angular face with the sharp jawline is accentuated attractively by the black lines inked into his skin. A second pair of eyes is tattooed right under his real ones, sitting high on his cheekbones, giving the impression that he is always watching you.

Sukuna is beautiful in a classic way, but at the same time, his tattoos and the way he carries himself make that beauty darker. Beautiful, like a fallen angel, maybe. His looks and his personality give him a dangerous aura. He is undeniably very intimidating. But the way he jokes around with you and looks at you in that playful manner makes you feel surprisingly at ease. Maybe that's why you grin at him and ask,

"What about you? Did your professor get mad, too?"

Sukuna shakes his head.

"Nah. I wasn't on my way to class. I had a team meeting."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, remembering the empty hallway.

"But I didn't see any of your teammates."

Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he raises an eyebrow, too, as if it is a challenge.

"Because I work out all the tactics and do the analytics and shit, so I have to be there before anyone else. Setting up everything, you know?"

You nod slowly, not saying it, but you are surprised and even a bit impressed by his statement. Judging by his looks and reputation, you wouldn't have taken Sukuna for the type of guy who bothers with tactics and stuff. You always assumed he solved everything with pure strength and brutal fouls. Apparently, you were wrong.

Sukuna hums and shoves his large hands casually into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He wears black nail polish, you realize, and somehow that fact is so fascinating that you find yourself unable to look away from his long, tattooed fingers as he gracefully lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag that makes his eyelashes flutter.

Sukuna then holds the still-open cigarette pack out to you, wordlessly offering you one. You decline with a shake of your head and a:

"I didn't know hockey players smoke."

You are met with another of Sukuna's boyish smirks that makes him look way too charming. He cocks his head, eyes sparkling with amusement, low voice dropping to an almost seductive purr,

"And why not?"

You shrug, making an indecisive gesture with your hands,

"Isn't it making you slower or something?"

Sukuna huffs softly, looking smug when he says,

"Well, even if I smoked two packs a day, I would still be the fastest one on the ice, so I guess I will risk it."

You laugh. And as you do it, you realize, to your astonishment, that you feel surprisingly relaxed around the star player and resident bad boy.

You watch him nod towards a group of guys passing by, who congratulate him on the latest win. Followed by two girls who giggle and twirl their hair as they look at him and coo his name as if he is some pop star.

But Sukuna doesn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. He just lazily blows out his cigarette smoke, not blessing them with more attention than a bored smirk.

Yes, he is a bit of an arrogant asshole and the way people treat him like he is a King or something is super irritating. But you can't deny that Sukuna has a certain charm. Lots of charm! All in all, the resident starboy doesn't seem so bad.

He is looking at you again. A deep gaze that makes your pulse accelerate with how inquiring and intense it is. As if he sees right into your very core.

"Why are you standing in the smoking area when you don't smoke?"

That catches you off guard. You blink and look around, searching for a smoking sign or something similar, but you don't see anything like it.

"Um... I didn't know this was the smoking area. I am just waiting for my dormmate."

After a moment, you add,

"I'm a secondhand smoker, though. Does that qualify, too, or are you gonna make me leave?"

You have no idea why you talk that way. Almost like you are flirting with Sukuna! He grins at you like a devil, attractive and playful and a little bit dangerous as he leans closer to you.

"You don't have to leave, princess. I'll make sure to blow my smoke your way if you are so into passive smoking."

You can hear the amusement in his low voice as he teases you. And he said it again, that name. Princess.

You are pretty sure that Sukuna calls a lot of girls that way, and it's pretty cliché, and coming from any other guy, you would probably find it cringe. But the way Sukuna says it, in his low, velvety voice, while he has that teasing smirk on his handsome face, makes you feel a strange fluttering in your stomach.

But you don't give him the satisfaction of letting him see the effect that stupid word has on you and instead roll your eyes playfully, looking challengingly at him, grinning just like he does,

"Go on then. I don't mind the smoke."

And Sukuna's eyes glint in amusement, never looking away as he leans down to you and takes a deep drag from his cigarette. He pulls it away from his lips and slowly blows the smoke into your face while watching you with half-lidded, cat-like eyes, smirking when he sees that you really don't turn away.

You shake your head and chuckle, feeling like you are sixteen again, and try to infiltrate the cool kids' clique by hanging around near their usual smoking spot. It's a bit stupid, maybe, but also fun.

Sukuna looks pleased, the tip of his tongue gliding over his front teeth as he grins at you.

"Good girl."

You bite your lip, looking up at him with big eyes, finding it hard to breathe suddenly, but not because of the cigarette smoke. You are relieved when Sukuna pulls away and announces,

"Well, it was nice sharing my smoke with you, but I have to go to the gym now. See you around, princess."

He winks at you and flicks the half-smoked cigarette gracefully to the floor, crushing it under the soles of his red and black Nikes.

"Have fun at the gym!"

Your voice sounds too chipper in your sorry attempt to act as if nothing happened, and Sukuna's eyes glitter with that seemingly ever-present teasing expression as he lets them trail over your face once again. He lets out a low chuckle and then jerks his tattooed chin at you in a casual goodbye gesture before he walks away with large, confident steps.

You watch him leave, laughing under your breath.

Sukuna definitely has a strong effect on people. He is confident and sexy, and a bit dangerous. But he also has a boyish charm that makes it easy to talk to him somehow. And it also makes it very hard not to stare after him.

Your gaze is still glued to Sukuna's tall figure and his broad shoulders when Nobara suddenly pops up beside you, making you jump when her elbow connects sharply with your side.

"What is going on between you and our hockey star?"

"What?"

"What were you talking about with Sukuna? And why are you staring after him like that?"

"Nothing. And I am not staring! I just... I ran into him a few days ago when I was late to class. Literally ran into him. That guy is like a wall. I bounced off him and fell. But he caught me. And yeah, that's all."

Nobara is staring at you with comically big eyes and a shocked, open-mouthed expression on her face,

"Why didn't you tell me about that? And now you're chit-chatting with him? Are you friends or what? Or are the two of you fucking?"

"Excuse me? No! Why would you even think that? I just exchanged a little small talk with him, Nobara! That is all!"

She huffs dramatically and pushes her ginger hair behind her ears,

"Good. Because he is an asshole. On the other hand, he is hot, but I think the asshole thing outweighs the sexiness. Maybe you could fuck him once just to get a taste. I mean, he is probably good in bed. And then you can avoid him and..."

"Hello? I don't plan on fucking Sukuna!"

You roll your eyes exasperatedly and push yourself off the wall you were leaning against, quickly walking away so Nobara won't see how flustered her words make you.

It's stupid, though! You really don't plan on getting involved with Sukuna! You barely know him, and just because he has a pretty face, a good body, and a bunch of sexy tattoos doesn't mean you want him!

Oh, are you sure about that, my dear Reader? Because I personally already want him ;)

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter!! I am so excited to finally share this story with you! I wrote some HockeyPlayer!Sukuna headcanons last year, and I couldn't get that version of him out of my mind again, so I knew I HAD to give him a new multi-chapter story. I am already deeply in love with this man, and I am so happy that I can indulge in him for several chapters now ;)

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️❤️

In Chapter 2, Reader will see our sexy hockey star actually play.

[risuola]

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

 “Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 10

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: lando norris x best friend!reader

warnings: none!!!

part 9

It wasn't a long drive to Lando's childhood home, only about 40 minutes with traffic. You pulled up the stone drive, turning the loud music down.

"Home sweet home" Lando smiles, removing his hand from your legs “Is your mum home?” he hums, nodding his head taking his seatbelt off “Are you ready? You look nervous?”

“I am” you panic turning to him “Why? You’ve been here like a million times” he laughs taking your hand “Not when the pictures have been out, oh my god Lan she’s gonna hate me” you put your hands to your head

“Baby, look at me” he takes your hand from head “You are the last person in this world that my mum would ever hate. Yes, she’s definitely going to have some questions but we will just be honest with her and everyone else. They’ll understand”

“Okay, yeah. We will go in and answer any questions they have” you nod “I love you” he lifts your chin up with his finger “I love you too”

He kisses you, several times before you’re interrupted by a knock on the window “Who’s behind me” Lando sighs “Ollie” you press your lips together

“Hi” Lando smiles rolling down the window “Yeah hi are you two going to sit out here kissing the whole time or are you going to come inside?”

“Okay I’m going inside now” you sigh awkwardly opening the car door, Oliver walks on ahead into the house closing the door behind him “Not only do we have to face your mother with these pictures but we also have to face your brother”

“Let’s just go inside” he shakes his head, dragging your hand into the house “Mum!” he calls out

The familiar sounding footsteps rush towards the door, followed by another pair not far behind them. You’re greeted by both Cisca and Adam.

“Oh my babies!” Cisca smiles hugging Lando before hugging you “I’ve missed you so much, both of you”

“I’ve missed you too Mum” he says pulling away from Adam “Come in, make yourself comfortable. Adam has put the suitcases upstairs in your bedroom already. Have you both eaten?”

“We had lunch, just not dinner yet” Lando answering following his Mum into the living room “Perfect, I am making dinner. Your sisters will be here soon and Savannah is out with the girls”

“Sounds good.” he sits down on the sofa “How did your meeting go today honey?” Adam asks you sitting across from you and Lando

“Really good, we got everything caught up on everything we needed to and I’m actually getting a break for the triple header which will give us a chance to make a holiday out of Spain and Austria and all of us can spend time with everyone at Silverstone”

“That’s amazing, how’s the racing going Lan?” he turns to his son handing him a cup of coffee that Cisca brought for him “Very good Dad, very happy with how everything is going”

“We’re all very proud of you, very very proud” Cisca smiles proudly “Thanks Mum”

“Awh golden boy is doing Mummy proud” Oliver teases grabbing Lando’s face “Get off me” Lando slaps his hand away

“Stop it you two”

“Granny” Milas voice shouts through the house “Oh my goodness my babies” you quickly get up, rushing towards the door “Auntie Y/N” Mila squeals running towards you “Hi baby. I’ve missed you” you pick her up spinning her around

“No hugs for Uncle Lala?” Lando wraps his arm around your waist, stroking his nieces hair. She reachers out to him and he take her off of you

“Hi lovely” Sav smiles at you opening her arms “I’ve missed you so much” you squeeze her “Trust me, me too. Never marry a Norris”

“She doesn’t have another option” Lando interrupts “What if I did have another option?” you turn to face him “Nuh uh” he says childishly

“See what I mean” Sav nods to Lando “Yeah I’ve missed you too”

Within forty minutes Lando’s sisters arrived and you all sat around the dining table finishing eating dinner.

“Baby pass me the water please” Lando asks with his arm stretched out “Baby?” his sister Cisca asks with a laugh “Uh inside joke” you cover it up quickly, leaving the room to fall into the sound of cutlery tapping against the plates

“Are you staying here this week?” Flo asks you breaking the silence “Mhm, me and Lan are staying in his room”

“Okay, everyone Cisca and I need to talk to Lando and Y/N would you mind clearing from the table” Adam coughs, watching everyone clear the table

“Shit” Lando whispers to himself, looking at your leg that’s now bouncing “Relax”

“I know it’s not our place to put our noses into things but we need to know what it actually going on between you two. If you’re dating I’m going to be really hurt that I found out through social media and not my son or my girl” Cisca sighs

“We’re not dating” you say looking between them two

“Zak came to me, telling me that my image of being with a lot of different women is ruining my reputation and McLaren’s. They tried to set me up with this girl and I refused to do it. They said that I had to and that if I don’t want anyone that they choose then I can choose myself. The only person I could think of was Y/N” Lando explains

“What the fuck Lando” his dad says angrily “So you’re using Y/N? You’ve disappointed me this time. You have set this bad image for yourself that you’re using your best friend? The girl we look to as family?”

“Dad”

“No Lando” he stops him, leaving the table “Mum, please understand that this is the last thing that I wanted to do but she’s the only one that I trust okay and I just. I wouldn’t be doing this if Y/N wasn’t comfortable”

“Y/N?”

“You know that I would do absolutely anything for Lando, even if it means faking something with him. As Lando said it wouldn’t be happening if I wasn’t comfortable”

“I’m just confused, the nicknames? Sharing a bed?”

“I think that would have to be something Lando and I have to talk about, we won’t be able to give you and answer until we have one ourselves”

“Alright” she nods “Well Lando honey you better go talk to your father and also your siblings. They have just been as confused as us”

He agrees, getting up and leaving the table “I’ll help with dishes”

You gather all the plates and follow her into the kitchen loading up the dish washer, you’re in comfortable silence.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you what was going on, it should have came from us earlier”

“I wish that you just saw what we all saw” she sighs “And what’s that?”

“That you are both so hopelessly in love with each other, you’re the only girl that I want for my son. All these years I have had this feeling that you two are going to tell me that you got together. You’re perfect for him Y/N. I know when he says I love you he really means it” she tears up, you look at her. Tears filling your eyes too.

“I am in love with him. I’m so so so in love with him that every time we have something, every time that he holds my hand, kisses me, tell me that he loves me that he will tell me that he’s in love with me” you can’t help but let the tears fall from your eyes

“Awh Y/N” she hugs you and you sob ok her shoulder “I didn’t what to interrupt” the girls poke their head into the kitchen “My mum is right. You have always been my sister, always and one day I want you to officially be apart of my family” Flo smiles

“You have always been my sisters and I love you both so much”

“We love you too”

“Y/N. I’m so sorry love” Adam says coming into the kitchen “Adam, I promise you. I’m going to talk with Lando. We will set things right”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I promise you I am”

“Well you better go talk to him, he got pretty upset”

You nod heading upstairs to Lando’s bedroom, knocking on the door before entering “Well it’s been a while since we’ve been in here together” you smile, sitting on the bed next to him

“Yeah it has” he laughs resting his head on your shoulder “You okay pretty boy?” you run your hand through his hair “I don’t make you uncomfortable do I?”

“Never”

“Promise me” he holds up his pinky “I promise” you link your pinky with his, kissing them, he leans down kissing you pressing his forehead to yours

“Sav said something about a movie night together tonight. Do you want to go downstairs and join everyone?”

“Stay here for a while?” he asks moving his head to your chest, you lay down flat allowing Lando to get more comfortable, before you knew it you heard snores coming from Lando’s mouth

TAGS

@misspygmypie @littlegrapejuice @alltoomaples @merchelsea @mswwvaleska @sweate-r-weathe-r @harrysdimple05 @ironmaiden1313 @imboredway2much @blueberry648579 @cmleitora @panicsinvirgo @jule239 @sialexia @brekkers-whore @dreamercrowd @formula1mount @morenofilm @obxstiles @charli123456789 @landoslutmeout @lunamelona @bokutos-babyowl @wobblymug @lexiecamposv @nightlockcornucopia @bisexual-babygirl-mj @alana4610 @czennieszn @silentreader128 @mxryxmfooty @taurussbabe @jostyriggslover96

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 11

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker @bunniboo0015

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 10

Joel and Tommy looked at each other, each practicing the decades long Miller Bros mind reading technique, the one they had been practicing since infancy. The one poor, dear, old Anita Miller had given up on trying to decipher. She swore this was something they could do even while sleeping. Nothing outwardly, just looking into each other’s eyes and small head gestures, careful not to let their facial expressions give their secret conversations away.

‘What do you think? We believe her?’

‘I don’t, you?’

‘Nah. Should we ask anyway?’

‘Sure! I’m curious,’ Joel cocked his head towards Angela, silently asking Tommy to take the lead.

Tommy cleared his throat. “What do you mean it’s not looking good?”

Angela put both her hands up, as if surrendering, “Believe me gentlemen, I agonized over telling you this, you guys looked so happy and at ease at the restaurant! But…” she sighed, shaking her head, taking her iPad out. She put her glasses on, checked that she had the right document, and slid the iPad towards Joel. “I just couldn’t let them do this to you, you need to know this, before things go further.”

He didn’t budge, still leaning on the counter.

Tommy picked up the iPad, reading the document Angela had opened.

“Maria is a PI, she’s been known to investigate famous people, politicians and celebrities alike, threatening to expose them unless they pay her,” he summarized the bit about Maria to Joel, who didn’t react. “And Lily, is a bankrupt barista with a list of failed attempts at opening up cafés all over town, and that truck was the only attempt that took. Even that barely makes any profits. She owes so much she’s drowning and is looking for a sugar daddy to bail her out. She chose you, it seems,” he continued, looking at Joel, his lower lip jutted out, impressed that Angela had managed to ‘find you girls out’, nodding his head, raising his eyebrows at his brother at the same time, placing the iPad back on the counter. “My, my, what are we going to do?”

Joel mulled the information in his head for a while, his lower lip jutting out like Tommy’s now, his eyebrows scrunched together, obviously thinking hard. “Maybe I should start paying for coffee and pay for her truck too?”

Tommy snorted, and Joel cracked a smile, much to the chagrin of a very confused Angela. Tommy handed the iPad back to her, asking her if that was all? He had places to be.

Joel stood up straight and picked up his key and phone, ready to leave.

“Guys, this is serious!” Angela squealed. “These ladies could do some serious damage to your reputation, what if this Maria targets you next, huh? You don’t exactly have a shiny one, you know? And what if this Lily takes you for everything you’ve got, Joel? How are you going to support the kids now that you are not renewing?”

Joel took a deep breath, turning around to face her. “I don’t need you to mother me around, Angela. Thank you for your concern, really, but I don’t want you speaking about Lily or Maria ever again, you hear me? They are beyond your responsibilities.”

“At least let me draw a contract? An NDA at least? So they don’t talk? I’m really worried here,” she tried, the most concerned look her done-up face would allow showing.

Joel took some hasty steps towards her, causing her to shrink back. “You go near her with a contract, an NDA, or any of your usual ‘agent-like’ bullshit, I will fire you,” Angela opened her mouth to protest. “I don’t care if I have to pay for anything. I don’t care if I am breaking the contract. Try me, see if I’m joking. Lily is not some distraction for me, she’s a friend, a true friend. You stay away from her!” he raised his voice, a finger in her face.

Angela looked at Tommy, trying to get the younger man to reason with his older brother.

Tommy shrugged, “What he said, with Maria.”

“Leave, Angela. I have places to be, things to do, and please don’t come back unless invited. This is my home. You know my boundaries about this. There’s a reason I don’t bring people home. That includes you.”

Angela’s face snapped shut. She couldn’t argue. He had always been private about his home. She could count the number of times she had been here, always invited, of course, for urgent business or birthdays – even those, only when Sarah was little, these days they just have dinners at restaurants - but not outside of that. Even Tommy drew a line with his home. He never took his dalliances to his home, always using hotel rooms or the ladies’ places for such purposes. Joel went a step further, only in his office, not even at hers, not even at hotels. She never understood this about the brothers, but she respected it. To the Miller brothers, their homes were for family, and despite being their agent and friend for twenty years, she didn’t qualify, not that she didn’t try. She may never qualify. And she just had to accept that.

She assumed that since the incident Friday night, they wouldn’t have a problem with her being here today, it was an emergency. But clearly, she had crossed a line. She was already worried about losing them as clients, the last thing she wanted was for them to leave earlier. So she nodded, muttered an apology, picked up her stuff and left.

Joel and Tommy looked at each other, processing what just happened.

“Listen, the thing she said about Lily…” Tommy began, “It’s bullshit. Her uncle, Bill I think his name was? He told me about her Dad. He owned like 30 of that café you used to hate. He sold them before retiring though, and she inherited everything when he died. Technically, she doesn’t even need to work. Bill said her stepmom has been trying to get her to move to where she was, but she’s been stubborn so far. She just loves working and selling coffee. Been doing it all her life. That’s why Bill stayed. To keep an eye on her. So the whole bankrupt, failed business attempts thing, it’s all bullshit, just in case you were wondering. Maria told me the few weeks she worked there was among the most exhausting of her life. They were popular, busy! And you know for a fact that truck is doing well.”

Joel huffed a laugh, “I’m not worried. She’s making a profit, alright. Charged me 40 bucks for a cup of coffee once.”

“WHAT?”

“I was a jerk, yelled at her, she charged me a fortune just to get back at me and then returned the money to Ellie.”

Tommy guffawed, telling Joel he liked you a whole lot more now. “Finally! A woman who put Joel Miller in his place! You should put 40 dollars back in her tip jar, you deserve to be charged that much if you were being a jerk to her!” He was laughing so hard he flailed, almost falling to the kitchen floor, grabbing the counter to steady himself. Joel was laughing with him, the memory of that day making him giddy. Tommy moved his hand to steady himself further, and then there was a crash.

Shit.

Tommy had accidentally swiped his hand to where the old coffee machine was, sending it crashing to the floor. Ellie came running, still half asleep, wondering what the racket was all about. She stilled when she saw what it was, hand over her mouth. Tommy was definitely not laughing anymore, his insides frozen at what he just did. They both looked at Joel, who held a hand out in front of Ellie, warning her not to come closer. There were glass shards everywhere, telling her to go get the broom, the scooper, the vacuum and a box, simultaneously warning Tommy not to move, his socked feet rooted to the floor.

When Ellie returned with the items he had requested, he asked her to bring him his boots, pulling the stool from under the island, sitting down, brushing his feet off any shards or anything that might have stuck to it, putting boots on, and going over to pick up the larger pieces, placing them in the box. He swept up the rest, taking the stool and placing it next to Tommy, asking him to sit and check his feet, before vacuuming the entire kitchen, just in case.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Tommy blubbered, finally able to catch up to his mortification, imagining how angry Joel would be about this. This was the man who had almost bitten his head off for buying him a new coffee machine, who had clung on to that piece of crap like it was worth millions, and he just destroyed that precious possession with one careless swipe of his hand.

Joel didn’t say anything, he continued vacuuming, checking every nook and cranny of his kitchen for any more shards of the machine, before finally being satisfied, emptying the cannister into the box along with the rest of the carcass. He picked the box up, patted his brother on his back and went out to the garage, placing the box on a shelf there, and got into his truck to leave.

Tommy and Ellie stood in the kitchen dumbstruck. “Am I in trouble or not?” he asked her. She shrugged, “He didn’t throw it away. It’s still on that shelf. Maybe not too much trouble?”

There was a few minutes of full on silence, neither of them moving.

“Does this mean I can get him a new one? Or not?”

“I wouldn’t chance it. Not until he throws that box away.”

Okay, Tommy thought, ruffling her hair, telling her Angela brought breakfast burritos, and left.

“Sorry I’m late,” Joel said, climbing into your truck, grabbing the apron off the hook, gently kissing you on the cheek, before taking over at the till. You kissed him back, going to make your customer’s order. The two of you worked seamlessly for a couple of hours, before finally sitting down at one of the tables to take a break, him enjoying his cup of coffee in the sun.

He told you about that morning’s happening, that Angela had taken steps to get the footage off the internet, hoping it would bring you some ease, not that you were ever bothered in the first place.

“The comments, though,” you told him, nervous to approach this subject. “There were so many questions about who I am to you. Frank told me, and I was worried you might take offence.”

Joel bit his tongue, trying to decipher if you were offended by those comments – he knew the ones – those that implied the two of you were together.

“Do you mind? In my experience not saying anything is the best defence. Saying anything at all would only open you to more questions. So I usually just keep quiet. But if you would prefer, I could say something,” he coaxed, not specifying if it would be a denial or a confirmation. He wanted so much for that piece of implication to be true, but of course, he had yet to find the balls to say it out loud.

“No, I don’t, you don’t have to say anything. I just worry that anyone you might be involved with would take it the wrong way, that’s all. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your love life,” you said, making him laugh.

“There’s no one, don’t worry.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Your phone pinged, you looked at it, a picture from Ellie, warning you that if Joel gave you any troubles today, not to take it to heart. Attached was a picture of the broken coffee machine in a box. You replied that he was fine, didn’t seem any different, and she quickly replied with a ‘phew’.

“Hey, I was wondering,” Joel said, breaking your concentration. “Tommy and the girls are organizing a dinner at my place this Saturday. My birthday is in September, but I would be away for work then, so they’re having the dinner this week. I’d love it if you could join us,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, nerves clearly showing. “Maria will be there,” he quickly added, as if that would make you say yes faster.

“Your birthday, huh? And how old would you be, Mr Miller?” you teased.

“Very old,” he said, rubbing his face. “Throw my back from sneezing old,” he continued, laughing at himself.

“Then I would be very happy to join your birthday dinner, to celebrate you getting old.”

He almost jumped up with joy. He had no idea why he would say that, but he knew he wanted to spend more time with you outside of your truck. His birthday was over a month away, but it was the only excuse he could think of on the spot to spend more time with you, he was still too nervous to ask you out on a real date, especially after that fiasco last week.

Okay, now all he had to do was tell his family that he needed them to throw him a dinner this Saturday, and hope to God they say yes.

You were just spritzing some perfume on when you phone rang. Joel was on his way to pick you up. You wanted to laugh, telling him you could have just Ubered, but he insisted. This was supposed to be his birthday dinner and he was coming to pick you up. Really, this guy was weird.

He had been calling you every night and coming to spend his mornings with you at the truck. You went to sleep every single night with a smile on your face, his voice the last thing you heard, and woke up every morning unable to contain your excitement to see him. When you thought of how you felt about him when you first met, you laughed at how silly this whole thing was. You hated him. And now, all you wanted to do was spend all your time with him, despite your hatred for celebrities. You felt like a teenager again, crushing on the cool guy at school.

He's just being nice, right? Making up for the time he was obnoxious to you? And the travesty that was last week? He’s a famous guy, no way he would feel that way about you, right? And with everything Lucy told you, how hesitant he was with the ladies, you needed to accept it. You were nothing special. Not even much to look at. You even saw pictures of him with that Tess Lucy was telling you about, she was really pretty. She suited him. And you had to admit, he did look a lot happier in the pictures with her than he did in his other pictures. You were definitely not a match to her in any way at all.

So, okay, you will be his friend. You liked being his friend. You loved Sarah and Ellie. And Tommy was a hoot. Maria came to spend time with you a few days ago, and she was hilarious. You wanted to spend more time with them all, so you needed to shut up and not spoil this thing you had with them without making it awkward. So, no. You will not be telling Joel you had a crush on him, no matter how much you wish you could just snuggle in his arms and breathe in his intoxicating musk.

Joel had to stop himself from gawking at you when you came downstairs, a wrapped box in your hands. Fuck, you look amazing. He rushed outside to get it from you, placing it carefully in the foot well of his back passenger seat, heeding your warning that it was fragile, all the while blubbering that you didn’t need to get him anything.

“I don’t know how you were raised, Miller, but my Mom and Dad taught me to bring a gift to birthday parties,” you joked, giving him a peck on his cheek. Joel nearly fell into you, swooning at the way you smelled, your perfume and that familiar coconut smell taking over him like some witchcraft he was never going to try to fend off, shyly mumbling how beautiful you looked. You wanted to remark on how mouth-wateringly good he looked, but you were afraid your tongue would fall out, so you settled with placing your hand on his chest, telling him that he didn’t look too bad himself.

The girls were excited to see you, Maria squealing, hugging you tight and taking you by the hand to take you outside where the dinner would be. It was a simple affair, just the six of you, chattering, laughing, eating, drinking.

The girls and Tommy were watching Joel, too happy to see him so happy. They had refrained from teasing him about the dinner, worried that he might pull back and cancel if they did, none of them remarking how special this small event was – he had willingly invited a woman who was not related to him to his home. Apart from Angela, some select close friends and the cleaning ladies, no one had ever been invited in, especially not those outside working capacity. And yet, here he was, making them plan a dinner, supposedly for his birthday, which none of them understood as he usually fought them tooth and nail every time they arranged something for him, only for them to realize his real intentions when he announced he was picking you up.

Not that they would ever complain. He looked far too happy to be in your company for them to even tease him.

After dinner, Tommy brought the gifts out for Joel to open, smugly smiling as his usually grumpy brother made a face – he was always uncomfortable at this bit. Everyone looking at him, watching him closely to see his reaction to the gift they had carefully selected for him, worried that he might offend someone should his reaction not be satisfactory enough. The fact that he was someone whose face came with subtitles didn’t help either.

He cooed at the photo collage Ellie made him, smothering her with hugs and kisses, already planning to hang it up in his room, hugged Maria for the shirt she got him, whooped at the season tickets Tommy got him, and got all teary at the new watch Sarah got him with her first pay, an upgrade, she said, from the old tattered one he’d had on forever. He hugged her for so long she squealed, squirming to get away from his kisses, laughing uncontrollably.

He got to your gift, the heavy box making him curious. You warned him not to shake it, making him laugh. Everyone fell silent when he unwrapped it.

It was a brand new espresso machine.

You were taken aback by the sudden silence. You were about to say something but you were interrupted.

“Yoo Hoo! What is everyone doing back here? A party?” Angela came from around the corner, a fake smile plastered on her face, obviously trying not to look hurt that she wasn’t invited. She stopped talking when she saw the espresso machine in Joel’s lap.

Joel ran his fingers on the shiny new machine, his face unreadable. He got up and took the machine inside. Everyone was just stunned. No one dared say anything, lest whatever repressed feelings Joel was having come out to play.

“Who gave him that?” Angela asked.

“I did,” your voice came out small, self-conscious.

“Well,” she snapped, “I hope you’re happy with yourself. You know what you just did?”

“Well, Ellie told me his old one broke, so I thought…”

“You thought what? That old machine was the last gift his late wife gave him, he was never getting rid of it. He’s had it for years. And you came along and just decided you could replace it? Who do you think you…”

“Angela, stop!” Tommy hollered, shocking the living shit out everyone.

You got up, feeling all sorts, grabbing your purse and taking your phone out, muttering an apology to everyone. All of them, save for Angela, stood up and tried to stop you, but you quickly left, going inside to grab your shoes.

Everyone turned to Angela, who had a self-satisfied smirk on her face, “I told you that woman was trouble,” she spat.

“What are you even doing here Angela? We didn’t invite you,” Sarah asked, her voice stern, her face cold.

“I have business to discuss with your Dad,” she defended, “It’s important.”

“Well, I’m here, what business?” Tommy asked, hands on his hips. “Didn’t he warn you never to come here again? What business is so important that you couldn’t wait until Monday?”

Angela was quiet, her attention drawn to the going on in the house, as was everyone else’s.  

You were approaching the entrance when Joel’s soft voice called your name. You turned around to see him holding a box in his hands, asking you where you were going?

“I’m so sorry, Joel, I didn’t mean to offend you, or the memory of your late wife, I didn’t know. I just knew your machine was broken so I thought I’d get you a new one. I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” you said, turning back around to go out, opening the Uber app to get a car. His hand wrapped around your wrist, so gentle, not at all like a man who was about to tell you off.

“Will you come with me? I need to tell you something,” he said, showing you the content of the box, the pieces of the broken coffee machine in it. He held his hand out to you, and you took it, feeling that you owed him this, seeing as you had just insulted the memory of his late wife. He laced his fingers with yours, taking you back outside, telling everyone to go inside, he needed to talk to you alone.

He took you to the fire pit at the other end of the backyard, sitting you down, and lighting the fire. He sat down next to you, taking your hand back into his.

“There’s something I needed to tell you. My late wife, Laura, she was my first love. We were only together for two years before she died. This,” he pointed to the box at his feet, “Was the only gift she had ever given me, apart from Sarah.”

You closed your eyes, feeling so awful you wanted to cry.

“See, they all thought that I kept it as a memento of her. That I was so in love with her no one could replace her. It’s not their fault, I have never said anything. But I want to tell you everything, if you’ll listen.”

His eyes were so hopeful, so sincere, you couldn’t help but nod, placing your hand on top of his.

Growing up, Joel had a best friend. Eddie. They were inseparable. They did everything together. When they were around 19, they were both working in construction, dreaming of starting a company of their own, putting money aside, Tommy promising to join them when he could.

Eddie had a girlfriend, and every time they hung out, she would bring her friend, Laura. Joel was smitten with her. She was shy, and to be frank, didn’t really pay him much attention at first. But they did hang out a lot, and it only made sense for them to ‘couple up’, he said, complete with air quotes. They spent so much time together, but she was very… distant with him. Not very physical, despite being very polite with him.

They finally had sex for the first time at Eddie’s 20th, both drunk out of their minds, Joel far too happy to finally land his dream girl. He was head over heels in love with her already, and she seemed to be in love with him too. The next morning, she told him that night was a mistake, she wanted to wait until marriage, and he accepted it, just willing to do anything to keep her in his life.

They got pregnant from that one night. So they got married, moved in together. Joel was over the moon. He married the girl of his dreams, and they were expecting a baby together. Pregnancy was not easy on her, she was very sensitive to smells and was tired all the time. She was down a lot, not really wanting to talk, not wanting to be physical with him. He understood, his Mama explained to him how pregnancies could affect women. Plus, he was far too happy with his life to take offence. Love was never without struggle, he thought. He would do anything to make Laura happy, and if this was what she needed, he was going to give it to her.

Things got better after Sarah was born. She was a great mother, an excellent wife, taking care of their small family’s needs. She was still distant, both emotionally and physically, but Joel realized this was just how she was. She was a great partner otherwise. She didn’t tell him she loved him but showed him every day. There was no hand-holding, or extreme kissing or making out, but the house was always clean, food on the table waiting for him when he got home, Sarah taken care of. He felt loved, and that was what mattered.

Soon, she warmed up to him, a smile accompanying her whenever she greeted him home, a kiss as he left in the morning, cuddling as they watched TV, her keeping him company as he ate, made love to him at night, everything just fell into place, and Joel felt as if he was at the top of the world, the happiest man on earth. It seemed to him that the longer they were married, the better the marriage got.

A week after gifting him that coffee machine, she passed. Joel remembered feeling as if the world had ended. He sat in the hospital thinking how unfair this was, they were in love, barely started their lives together. And she died. How was he supposed to move on? His heart was shattered. His wife, the woman he loved was gone in a split second. He sat on the floor in that hospital thinking about the sweet kiss she gave him as he left for work that morning. How she held Sarah in her arms, kissing her chubby cheeks, helping her wave her Dad goodbye. See you for dinner, Dad, she had cooed, laughing as Sarah tried to copy her words.

He was so distraught, he didn’t even think how weird it was that she passed in a car crash, that she was in a car at all. She was a stay at home Mom, she didn’t know how to drive. Joel drove her everywhere. The grocer was within walking distance from their house. Where was Sarah when all this happened? The news of her death clouded all those questions those first few hours.

A hand landed on his shoulder. It was Eddie’s father. He was crying too. Joel got up, hugging the man for dear life. The man had been like a father to him since his own Papa passed. They hugged for a while, crying into each other’s shoulder, before he finally asked who told him about the accident, only then realizing they both had asked the same question.

It was then that they found out, Laura and Eddie were in the same car during the crash, both perishing upon impact.

What was Laura doing in the car with Eddie? She was supposed to be home, looking after Sarah. Who was looking after Sarah? And Eddie, he called in sick that day. What were they doing together?

The policeman came and told Joel he could collect their belongings from the morgue, and when he did, there were suitcases of clothes among them. Joel didn’t understand. He went home and got Sarah from his neighbour Mrs Adler, who told him that Laura did leave Sarah with her a few times a week, going on a few months now.

Joel went into his house to an empty closet, a letter on the bed. A wedding ring in the envelope.

They had been having an affair. She had pined for Eddie since they met, but Eddie was happy with his girlfriend. That night they had sex, she had gotten drunk because she heard Eddie propose to his girlfriend, going for Joel out of sheer desperation, hoping that Eddie would find out and get jealous.

He never did, at least, not then. She got pregnant, and was forced to marry Joel, her own parents disowning her for getting pregnant out of wedlock. But she quietly pined for Eddie still, going through the motions with Joel, until one day, Eddie’s fiancée broke up with him. He turned his attention to Laura then, and their affair began. In the letter, Laura confessed to Joel that her happiness of late was due to the fact that she finally got to be with Eddie, the man of her dreams. She wanted to be with him. She was leaving him and Sarah to start a new life elsewhere with Eddie. She had taken all the money Joel had hidden in the floorboards for his business with Eddie, telling him so he wouldn’t panic when he couldn't find it. She went as far as thanking him for helping her and Eddie start their new life together.

Joel was broken. He couldn’t believe that was all he was to Laura. A replacement, a place holder until the man of her dreams came along. He couldn’t believe that had the accident not happen, he would have come home to an empty house, left to raise his daughter alone anyway. He couldn't believe that she had pretended to be so happy with him, making him believe she loved him, loved Sarah, sending him to work with a kiss as usual that morning, knowing that she was planning to break his heart later that same day, knowing that she was leaving him. 

Everyone was talking about what a sweet woman Laura was. How sad it was that her life was cut so short. How sad for Sarah to lose a loving mother, how sad for Joel to lose a loving wife. Joel didn’t want Sarah growing up knowing her own mother didn’t want her, was more than ready to leave her, so he kept the story to himself. He let everyone believe that he chose to be single out of loyalty to his late, great wife. The ultimate woman. The love of his life.

Every time he saw the coffee machine she bought him, he was reminded of her betrayal and kept it as a reminder so he wouldn’t fall again, so he wouldn’t be hurt again. So no woman would ever betray him like that again.

“And then, just when I met you, this thing broke for good. I kept it anyway, just because, and just as I came to terms with my feelings for you, it fell and smashed into pieces. It’s a sign.”

“Sign for what?”

“That I’m ready to let it go.”

He tossed the box into the fire, and the two of you watched as the remnants of that machine turn to ashes, staying quiet as it did, hands never leaving each other’s.

“Thank you for telling me, Joel. I’m so sorry she treated you like that. You deserve so much better.”

He smiled, thanking you, caressing your hand with his thumb.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean you have come to terms with your feelings for me?”

He turned to look at you, his eyes darting to your lips.

He may have said something, you saw his lips move, but your heart was in your ears.

“Huh?”

He closed the distance between the two of you, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, and brushed your lips against his, before quickly pulling back.

His hands flew up to your face, pulling you back to his own, slotting his lips between yours, and kissed the living daylights out of you.

Part 12

[romanarose]

"If I'm Being Honest" Lie #1: "I don't like you."

An Omegaverse/romcom enemies to lovers idiots in love slowburn found family type shit. graphic design is my passion themed header is a little more intional this time but lord knows i can't edit XD

Alpha!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: If Logan is being honest, he didn't like you. If you were being honest, you didn't either. But, if you were both being honest, you were exactly what you needed.

Warnings: Currently nothing? Will update as I go, but everyone's canon trauma is liable to be discussed.

A/n: I have built a reputation on here for series that are very serious, that deal with themes of severe depression, sexual assault, abuse, etc. I wanted to try my hand at something new, something lighthearted. the Omegaverse stuff won't have a HUGE part in it, it's just another aspect I wanted to add. As i wrote it, I realized it has a romcom vibe, so that's what I'm leaning into. I want to have fun with this! i write so much heavy stuff, a little change is nice. thank you so much to @xdaddysprincessxx for encouraging me to venture out, ily.

1.7k words

Reblogs are the only way to really spread works here, tumblr does not have an algorithm. Every single like is loved and appreciated, comments mean the whole world and keep me writing, but reblogs are how we share on here and create community.

Support artists, reblog works.

Multiple alternating POVs

***

If Logan was being honest, in the moment he just wanted to fuck you. Years later, to other more romantic types like Remy or Kurt, he would say it was love at first sight. He wouldn't say you were being a bit of a cunt, and the comment on his hair was unnecessary.

If you were being honest, wanted him to leave you alone, and were thankful he did. Later, to Remy and Kurt, you would say that you secretly wished he’d try again, although Logan wasn’t the type to linger where he wasn’t wanted. You say it was love at first sight, although if you were being honest, you thought his leather jacket was too wanna be James Dean, and his hair looked stupid. 

When Logan saw you in that bar, the bit-too crowded one that was the only spot he could go to where they didn’t recognize him from the mutant school 50 miles away, he thought, Well, she’ll do.

Jean had chosen Scott, and Logan wasn’t going to just sit around the mansion moping all day. Even if he still harboured feelings, he wanted her to be happy, and frankly, he wanted Scott to be too. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was just married to the woman Logan loved. And was rather annoying. But again, not bad. 

Logan just needed a nice, wet hole to sink into, and you were more than attractive enough for his tastes. Stunning, even, and just a little bit terrifying. You were a beta; he could smell the lack of alpha or omega pheromones, and you were devoid of either. All the better, omegas were so… clingy.

You, on the other hand, cursed yourself when you accidentally caught his eyes. Great. You think to yourself. Now he probably thinks you’re staring.

You weren’t! Not at that moment, anyway. If you were being honest, after he took the hint and went on his way, you did take a few glances for the ole spank bank. No harm no foul.

“Hey.” The man said as he leaned against the bar counter, and you snort through your nose.

“Really? That's the best you got?” You make a twirling motion with your finger. “Turn around, try again.”

He makes a funny face, but turns around anyway. When he faces you again, he doesn’t lean on the counter but rather takes a seat. “Uh. Hello?”

You facepalm, laughing. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The man takes the laughter in stride. “Yeah, not my best work. Can I at least buy you a drink?”

Another weak move. “You can, but I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Not deterred, he buys the next round. “Name’s James.” He gave you his hands and waited expectantly, but even though you shook it you dodged the name question hanging in the air. 

“Sorry, buddy, I swore off Jimmy’s about 2 Jimmy’s ago.”

A slight frown, but nothing that seemed to indicate trouble. “Luckily, I’m not a Jimmy, I’m a James.”

“Okay.” You spoke almost patronizingly. “Never met a James that wore kitty ears, but okay.”

James looked like he was stewing on something, opened his mouth to retort an insult, but thought better of it. He attempted to smooth back the curls, but it didn’t work. He mumbled something about a cowlick before looking back at you as you laughed.

“You’re not playfully teasing me, are you?” it wasn’t a question.

“Nah, honey. I’m making fun of you.”

“Welp.” He slaps his hands on the bar counter, sitting up. It wasn’t an aggressive move, he meant it playful himself, but it still made you startle. “I can see where I’m not wanted. Keep the drink, sweetheart.” He winked, and left you alone.

Fuck, his pants were tight.

Logan moved on to talking up some girl that actually seemed interested, but if he were being honest, and he’d never admit this, but he kept looking back to you. As much as he wanted to get his dick wet and this new girl was pretty, he couldn’t get his mind off you. Logan was not rejected often. It wasn’t that his ego was bruised, okay maybe a little, but you were just so interesting. His senses were telling him he needed to notice something about you, but not trouble. He didn’t know what that meant, but the next time he looked over he saw a man making his move on you.

Good luck, bub. He thought to himself, then looked back at the cute girl. She seemed flexible. An omega, which meant he’d probably have to make an escape while she was sleeping, but she’d be eager to please. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good-

*CRASH!*

Annnnnnd there it was. Can’t have nothing nice. He stepped in front of the blonde, what was her name again?, and looked to scout out the situation just in time to see you clock a man in the jaw hard enough to send him back. Good job there, girlie. Logan didn’t want trouble, and you seemed to be handling it so he didn’t step in just yet… but out of nowhere came the guy's friend with a barstool and clocked it over your head.

“Hey!” Logan shouted, distracting the man enough as he was about to kick you a third time in the face. Just as he dove and took him down, Logan heard the crowd gasp. After knocking the buddy out, Logan looked up to see if the first man wanted a piece of him next, only to see him staring in shock.

You were blue. Your skin, your hair, and the sliver of your eyes he could see, all blue. 

“MUTANT!” The fucking hillbilly shouts, and Logan isn’t an idiot. There’s trouble coming.

Without thinking, he scoops up your limp body and dashes you outside as men gather like an old timey mod.

He places you on the front of his bike, one strong arm holds you up and kicks the stand of the bike. Back to the mansion.

Another goddamn stray. Can’t keep them off me.

The gates opened as his bike rode up the twisted roads over half an hour later. Good thing the bike was registered to Scott, because if he got clocked speeding, it was bordering on reckless driving. 

Despite being in a hurry, Logan made sure to kick the stand up after riding the bike right up to the steps. He didn’t want the engine flooded. Then whose bike would he steal?

Bursting into the entrance, he finds Scott in a blue and yellow button down PJ set, sleep mask on and arms crossed. “You have GOT to stop-” Then Scott see’s you, passed out, bloody faced, and blue bodied, and senses the urgency.

He grabs Logan, shoving him to get to the medbay ASAP. Logan could run much fastert than Scott, even with your weight, but Scott was behind him. “JEEAANNN!”. The yelling was more to get it out in his mind, no doubt communicating with her in there to get to the bed medbay, which was near their bedroom.

By the time Logan got there, Jean was already setting up. She was in a robe, forest green and silky, something Scott probably got for her, the thoughtful fuck. Annoyingly, it was long, covering up those legs. That was also probably intensional on Scott’s part. Jean was in boxers. Probably Scotts, and she liked to sleep in skimpy cami’s. On second thought, the gift was probably more Scott keeping her wrapped up considering how many times Jean gets called to the med bay in the middle of the night.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Logan half panicked. He didn’t actually know anything. “I don’t really know. I talked to her briefly at the bar but that’s it.”

Green eyes flashed up at him, then back down. Jean knew what he was doing. “Did you sleep with her yet?”

He didn’t really know why THAT was relevant. 

“No, she rejected me too.” Well, that was a bit bitter. Logan corrected himself. Not the time. “Uh, fuck, she’s a mutant.”

Jean stopped, then dropped her shoulders as she deadpanned. “I couldn’t tell.” She could get a little snarky when under stress, so Logan let that roll off his back and she hooked you up to some monitors.

“She got into a bar fight, one guy hit her over the head with a stool, that's when she blacked out. Another kicked her face before I got there. One to the nose, one to the forehead.”

Jean nodded, this was the information she needed. 

“Steal toed books by the looks of it, got her pretty good. Anything else?”

“She turned blue a little after passing out, and she’s a beta.”

She placed her hands over the woman's body. “She probably can hide her mutation if she’s conscious about it. Knocking her out took away that defense.”

Just then, Scott entered the room, finally catching up. You’d think with those long legs he’d be faster, but running isn't his strong suit. “How is she?”

“Stable, but I need one of you to put the gauze on her head, she’s still bleeding.” Scott found the materials needed and applied gentle pressure. “Heart rate is good, but she’s unconscious still. Logan how long has it been?”

“45 minutes maybe?”

She swears under her breath. “Well, that’s not great. Let me get into her head.” After a few minutes, she relaxes a little bit. “Okay. Not traumatic brain injury. It’s a moderate concussion. She’ll need some rest but she’ll be okay, it seems.”

“Any sign of a healing factor?” Scott asks, but Jean shakes her head.

“If it is, it’s nothing like yours,” She nods to Logan. “or even Remy. Or like Remy, she needs to be conscious about it.” Jean put down her hands. “There’s not much I can do right now. It’s best to let her wake up naturally, unless this goes longer than a day. I’ll keep monitering-”

Your eyes flashed open, blue and glowing lightly, gasping a little for breath. When you saw Logan and Scott of one side of the bed, the confusion grew to panic. “Shit!” You try to roll off the bed, away from them, but are either too out of it still or too tied up in monitors to make it far. You fall, and Jean catches you. Logan moved to go to you, but Scott held him back. Logan didn’t know why

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you’re safe here.” You calm more after seeing her, letting Jean sit you down.

When you look up at Scott and Logan again, you lock eyes with the older man. To their surprise, you roll your eyes, “Oh great. This fucking guy again.”

If Logan was being honest, he didn’t like you very much.

**********

thank you so so much for giving this a chance!!!I had a lot of fun writig this, which isn't something ive said a lot lately.

I originally was on my drive back from my parents like "i wanna write omegaverse" it was originally gonna be a lot more serious, but as i was planning and thinking it just ended up having a sillier vibe.

It will still have more serious themes here and there, but nothing like what i usually do. Im very nervous. The most lighthearted series ive ever done was the DBF joel series but that was more a series of one shots. And awakening was goofy and silly sometimes but was also pretty heavily about the beauty of coming out later in life, finding yourself, exploring sexuality, and deep trust.

This fic is playing on the rom com vibes. Idiots in love. Enemies to lovers. I hope you guys like it. Prinny says she think it'll be good for me to have something lighter, considering how much dark fics and dark themes i do.

I know I was talking about the series with my OC sadie summers and logan and thats still in the works, but there were some kinks i needed to work out that I havn't yet before i can go foreward. Fen and I are almost done with IYWBW, and when that done ill start on the benny miller x oc series for the final installment of Leather and lace universe!!!

and eventually, EVENTUALLY i will get that final chapter of ROF done. its just HARD (like my dick)

peace and love girlies (gn)

if you want to be added to my general logan content, check out the taglist linked above, but if you want to be added to this series, comment below!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @miraclesabound

[eternaldarknesswitch]

Ikemen Villain (Ellis, Jude and Liams) As Your Yandere Boyfriend (Headcanons). Part 2.

 Header Credit: Ikemen Series

Pairing: Multi Scenario x gender neutral!Reader. 

Tags : Villain x reader, Obsessive Yandere, Dark Romance, Psychological Control, Manipulation, Obsession, Possessive Love, TwistedLove, Emotional Manipulation, Caged Affection, Powerful Yandere.

Warning : Mention of Psychological Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Isolation, Yandere Themes (Obsessive/Possessive Love), Power Imbalance, Subtle Threats & Contro, Destruction of Relationships (Friends/Family), Ruined Reputation/Career Sabotage, Unescapable Love (Caged Romance), Dubious Freedom.

A/N : For today there will be no Quotes, but I have different plans, including creating several headcanons (hc), which I have postponed for almost several months due to several obstacles that have prevented me from completing them. The following is my interpretation of what I believe Ellis, Jude and Liam would say and act, and I kindly apologize if it does not align perfectly with the character or if you have a different understanding. Please bear in mind that it is intended purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken to heart.

─────────ೋღ 🌺ღೋ─────────

Ellis Twilight

As a Yandere Boyfriend: The Bloodstained Angel of Devotion

Ellis Twilight’s love is beautifully twisted, suffocatingly pure, and terrifyingly unwavering. He loves you the way a devoted dog worships its master—with absolute, all-consuming adoration—but if anyone dares to threaten his happiness with you, he will rip them apart with the feral brutality of a wild beast.

To him, you are his entire world, the only warmth in the cold, dark reality he lives in. And he will do anything—anything—to keep you by his side. He’s not calculating like Roger or manipulative like Victor; he’s much simpler, more instinctual. He loves you, and that means no one else is allowed to have you.

His love is childlike in its purity yet monstrous in its intensity—sweet words spoken with bloodstained hands, warm embraces while bodies grow cold beneath his feet.

✨ The Good Side: A Love That Feels Like Heaven

Ellis, at first glance, is the perfect boyfriend—gentle, affectionate, always eager to please. His love feels like the kind of devotion people dream of—but only because you don’t yet see the darkness lurking beneath.

Devoted & Loyal to an Unsettling Degree

Ellis is obsessed with you in a way that is both endearing and terrifying. His every thought, every action, every breath is centered around you.

He remembers everything about you—what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what foods you like, what colors you prefer—and he uses this knowledge to make you dependent on him.

"I love you so much… You know that, right? Say it back. Tell me you love me, too."

Affectionate & Clingy (Like a Puppy… a Very Dangerous Puppy)

Ellis thrives on physical affection. He constantly needs to touch you, hold you, be near you—as if making sure you won’t disappear.

If you pull away, even for a moment, his expression shifts—his usual bright eyes darken with something unreadable, something dangerous.

"Where are you going? You don’t need anyone else, right? I’m the only one who truly loves you…"

Childlike Excitement in Love

Ellis treats love like a fairytale, and you are his beloved prince(ss). He showers you with gifts—sometimes beautiful, sometimes strange, sometimes deeply disturbing (a lock of hair from someone who looked at you too long, a bloodstained handkerchief from a fight he "took care of").

"I brought you something! Do you like it? It’s special—just like you~"

 

❌ The Bad Side: The Angel Who Would Kill for You

Ellis does not handle separation, disobedience, or betrayal well. In his mind, you belong to him, and if you ever try to leave, he will break apart like a shattered doll—taking the world down with him.

 No One Else Is Allowed to Have You

If someone flirts with you, looks at you the wrong way, or tries to take you away, they simply… disappear.

Sometimes, it’s an accident—maybe they fall down the stairs, maybe they go missing, maybe their body is found in an alleyway, unrecognizable. Other times, Ellis makes sure you see his work, just to remind you how much he loves you.

"You don’t have to worry about them anymore, love. I took care of it. Now you’re safe with me."

Desperation Leads to Dangerous Acts

If you try to leave, Ellis will beg, sob, plead—but if that doesn’t work, his instincts take over.

Maybe he locks you in a room, holds you tight even as you struggle, whispering over and over how much he loves you, how much he needs you.

"No, no, no…! You don’t mean it! You love me! You said you’d stay forever! So why…? Why are you trying to leave me?!"

Extreme Emotional Dependence

Ellis lives for you, and if you ever reject him, he breaks. His usual smile disappears, replaced by a hollow emptiness, a desperate madness.

He won’t hurt you—he could never hurt you—but he might hurt himself instead, just to make you stay.

"If you leave… I don’t think I’ll be able to live without you."

💔 The Love That Chains You Forever

Ellis Twilight’s love is beautiful, obsessive, and terrifyingly unconditional. He loves you with every fiber of his being, with every ounce of his soul. And no matter what happens—he will never let you go.

Because to him, there is no life without you.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jude Jasser

As a Yandere Boyfriend: The Smiling Phantom That Haunts You

Jude Jasser is not a man who loves softly or kindly. He is not the type to whisper sweet nothings in the dead of night, nor is he the kind to beg for your affection. No, his love is a silent noose tightening around your throat, a game of cat and mouse where you never even realized you were the prey.

To the world, Jude is nothing more than a shadow—a ghost of a man who slips in and out of reality as easily as a whisper fades into the wind. But for you? For you, he is always there, lurking in the unseen spaces of your life, pulling strings so delicately that you never even realize you’ve been ensnared.

And make no mistake—you are ensnared.

You were his the moment he decided to love you.

It doesn’t matter if you resist. It doesn’t matter if you fight. Jude has already won.

 

✨ The Good Side: A Love That Feels Like an Elegant Illusion

At first, Jude doesn’t seem like the type to be obsessed. He doesn’t smother you, doesn’t hover. Instead, he watches, letting you think you are free, that you have control. His love is quiet, insidious, and so perfectly crafted that you never realize how deeply entangled you’ve become.

And by the time you do, it’s far too late.

The Ghost That Protects You

Jude never lets harm come to you—not because he shields you openly, but because the threats disappear before you even know they existed.

That dangerous man following you on the street? He’ll never be found.

That colleague who whispered about you behind your back? Their reputation is mysteriously ruined.

“What a shame. I almost feel bad for them… Almost.”

A Love That Feels Like an Addiction

Being loved by Jude is intoxicating.

He never gives you his full attention right away—just enough to leave you wanting more, just enough to make you search for him, think about him, need him.

When he finally does turn his full attention to you, it feels like being drowned in an overwhelming, consuming, dizzying affection—and suddenly, you can’t imagine life without him.

“You miss me, don’t you? …You don’t have to answer. I already know.”

Possessive Yet Playful

Jude is never outright jealous—not at first. Instead, he teases you, plays with your boundaries, watches as you slowly begin to rely on him more and more.

But the moment someone gets too close?

“You’re cute when you think you have a choice. But we both know you’re already mine.”

 

❌ The Bad Side: The Cage You Never Saw Until It Closed

Jude doesn’t need to threaten you, doesn’t need to lock you away. Instead, he makes sure that every road except the one leading to him is destroyed.

If you ever try to run, you’ll find that there is nowhere left to go.

A Web of Lies & Control

You will never know the full extent of his manipulation, because Jude is a master of deception.

He lets you believe you are making your own choices, lets you think you have freedom—only to ensure that every decision you make is exactly what he wanted all along.

If someone tries to warn you about him, suddenly their credibility is ruined. If you start to doubt him, strange accidents happen around those doubts.

“You should really be more careful about who you trust. Not everyone has your best interests at heart, you know.”

An Unseen Executioner

If someone dares to take what’s his, they do not live to regret it.

But Jude is no brute, no mindless killer. He does not leave bodies in the streets, does not taint his own hands with blood. Instead, he makes sure that it all looks like a coincidence, a misfortune, a stroke of bad luck.

And when you ask about them? He simply shrugs, smirks, and watches you squirm under the weight of your own suspicions.

“Strange, isn’t it? It’s almost as if the world is cleaning up all your problems for you."

Escape Is a Fantasy, Not an Option

If you ever try to leave, Jude does not stop you.

Instead, he lets you go, watching with an amused smile as you struggle to navigate the wreckage of your ruined life.

Because without him, you have nothing left.

And when you inevitably come crawling back—broken, desperate, afraid—he welcomes you home with open arms and a knowing smirk.

“Oh, . Did you really think you could live without me?”

The Love That Twists Your Own Mind

Jude never needs to force you to stay—instead, he makes sure that you don’t even want to leave.

Every time you start to question him, he gaslights you with a soft smile, a quiet chuckle, a gentle brush of his fingers against your cheek.

“Now, now. Let’s not get carried away with silly thoughts, hm?”

💔 The Love That Devours You Whole

Jude Jasser’s love is not loud, not obvious, not something you can fight against directly. Instead, it is a slow, suffocating descent into an inescapable hell of devotion.

By the time you realize what he’s done to you—that you are his, that you will always be his—you will already be too far gone to fight back.

Because in the end, you will come to love him just as much as he loves you.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Liam Evans

As a Yandere Boyfriend: The Gentleman with Shackles Hidden in His Smile

Liam Evans is a man who loves with grace, devotion, and an almost suffocating intensity. On the surface, he is the perfect gentleman—polite, considerate, and endlessly patient. His love feels like a warm embrace on a cold night, like an unwavering pillar of support that never falters.

But beneath that charming, easygoing exterior lies a deeply obsessive man. Liam does not rage, threaten, or act out impulsively—he does not need to. Instead, he weaves a world where you cannot live without him. Every gentle touch, every indulgent smile, every whispered reassurance—they are chains disguised as kindness.

Liam’s love is a prison. A beautiful, gilded prison that you will not even realize you are trapped inside… until it’s far too late.

✨ The Good Side: A Love That Feels Like Heaven

Falling for Liam feels effortless. He is attentive, caring, endlessly devoted—the kind of man who seems to know exactly what you need before you even say it.

Devoted to You, Body and Soul

Liam is the type of lover who remembers every little detail about you—your favorite foods, the way you fidget when you’re nervous, the exact shade of your eyes under the moonlight.

He anticipates your needs before you even realize them, making you feel truly understood and cherished.

“You looked tired, love. I had your favorite tea prepared—go on, drink. It’ll make you feel better.”

Overwhelmingly Affectionate

Liam is constantly touching you—whether it’s brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, or wrapping his arms around you while whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

He treats you like something fragile, something precious, something meant to be adored and protected at all costs.

“You belong right here, in my arms. Nowhere else. You understand that, don’t you?”

A Safe Haven in a Cruel World

Liam presents himself as your sanctuary, your refuge—the only person in this dangerous, ruthless world who truly understands you.

Whenever you face hardships, he is there with a comforting embrace, a reassuring voice, a reminder that you never need to suffer alone.

“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

A Man Who Would Give You the World

Liam is generous to a dangerous degree.

He spoils you with lavish gifts, rare treasures, even things you never thought to ask for—all to make you feel indebted to him.

“Anything you want, anything you need… just say the word, and it’s yours.”

❌ The Bad Side: The Cage with No Key

Liam’s love is not something you can escape. He does not let go—ever. If you try to resist, he simply tightens his grip, softly, sweetly, mercilessly, until you realize that fighting is useless.

 A Master of Manipulation

Liam is not aggressive, not violent, not overtly cruel—he doesn’t need to be. Instead, he twists reality itself, making you doubt your own thoughts, your own fears, your own desires.

“You don’t really want to leave, do you? No… you’re just confused. It’s alright—I’ll help you see the truth.”

 Isolation Disguised as Love

At first, it seems harmless—small, reasonable requests.

“That friend of yours… I don’t trust them. Wouldn’t it be better if you stopped seeing them?”

“You don’t need to work so hard. Let me take care of everything for you.”

Before you know it, you’ve lost contact with your friends, your independence, your ability to function without him.

“Why would you need anyone else when you have me?”

 Escape Is an Illusion

If you try to leave, Liam doesn’t get angry. He simply smiles, shakes his head, and gently reminds you that there is no way out.

Your reputation? Ruined.

Your finances? Gone.

Your connections? Erased.

“You’re free to leave, my love… but where would you go? Who would take you in? Who would love you like I do?”

 The Gentle Threat of Violence

Liam is not violent—until he needs to be. He does not hurt you directly, but he lets you see the consequences of defying him.

The way he idly plays with a knife while speaking. The way someone who angered him before disappears without a trace. The way his smile never quite reaches his eyes when you test his patience.

“Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret, darling.”

💔 The Love That Never Lets You Go

Liam Evans loves you too much, too deeply, too completely. He would rather destroy the entire world than allow you to slip from his grasp.

You are his. Forever.

─────────ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ─────────

Written by : @eternaldarknesswitch ♕

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[marketfreshfics]

Love is a... | Sebastian x MC

Header image (Sebastian): @starrysallow ✦ 5,439 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI) ✦ unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), estranged friends to lovers, mild physical confrontation, some angst, oral, masturbation, p in v, tw: choking ✦ Inspired by "Love is A..." - PVRIS ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Events following catastrophe were called fallout for a reason. Oftentimes it wasn’t the disaster itself, but the particles of pain that amassed the body counts, thrown to the heavens and scattered. What goes up, must always come down.

After killing Solomon and being pardoned outside of a court of magical law, based on friendship and honesty at the decision of his closest two friends, Sebastian was never the same. He stopped regular class attendance, prioritized unhealthy friendships, and frequented the restricted section even more. 

She worried, constantly, but each attempt to reconnect and rekindle had been dodged and ignored. Her poor owl probably thought her a right lunatic with the amount of return post that accumulated next to her bedside.

It was as if he breathed in strands of that wretched Killing Curse, and his former self was another casualty of that day. 

Distance was the only solution, and weeks bled to months, then years. Hostilities were built, grudges cemented, and relationships wedged. A lifelong friendship built on mutual trust, obliterated by all counts without salvage. 

It hurt her heart, to say the least. Even Ominis insisted on prioritizing Sebastian’s company, solely out of self-flagellating guilt in believing he could have, somehow, prevented all of this. Now, he felt like it was the best means of maintaining Sebastian’s composure, of averting further tragedy. Eventually, the infrequent study sessions and conversations in the Slytherin common room became a thing of the past. The Undercroft’s clockface locking mechanism collected cobwebs, of time lost and friendships standing still. 

She withdrew; the end of her seventh year approached and she was consumed by the quiet, by research, by exams. By any and all distractions that held her focus long enough to neglect her feelings. 

Until one sleepless evening, as she passed the time in the Slytherin common room, tracing shapes in the condensation on the windows looking out into the Black Lake. The sound of footfalls and deep snickers bit her focus and induced an automatic eye-roll, the tells of men being up to no good. She turned her back to the stairwell, opting out of asking what they were up to at one-thirty in the morning.

Nothing great from the sounds of it. The group halted at the bottom of the stairs, whispered amongst themselves, and let out hushed sounds of approval. And then, the last voice she wanted to hear in the middle of the night beckoned her attention.

“Hello.”

Fucks sake, she thought, hearing Sebastian’s unfortunately familiar tone. His cronies chuckled, and worry started to spread uncomfortably in her chest.

“Leave her be, Sebastian.” 

Relief cooled her blood as Ominis chided his best friend. Nothing wary would occur if he was in their company, that was certain; the heir of Slytherin had a quiet but firm reputation that fellow housemates were keen to avoid fucking around near. She turned, and swallowed hard.

Sebastian was a ghost of his former self, having filled out the straight-up-and-down form of his early teenage years. His black button-down could have used a proper resizing, taut at the biceps, the slightest hint of his undershirt peeking through the first buttonhole. Had they maintained a proper friendship still, she might have found him rather fetching. 

But that was off the table entirely, their friendship long past expiration, the unanswered letters like an obituary in itself.

Sebastian crossed the central chamber of the common room, walking with the subtle saunter of liquid courage and bad influence, smirking with a glassy haze in his eyes. 

He stood far too close to her. “I said, hello.” Terse, unyielding. The firewhisky on his breath branded her cheeks, and at this proximity, she was painfully aware of how much taller than her he’d grown. His little band of brothers hung back much to her relief; Ominis stood between them and the tower of darkness, the only one of them with some decorum (and sobriety)

“What do you want?” She muttered, fists balled at her sides to hide their tremble.

Sebastian feigned a hurt expression but it immediately dissolved, replaced with a terrible implication in his grin. “You.”

His audience chortled, save for Ominis, who seemed to be carefully attuned to whatever Sebastian was about to say next. 

She ignored his forward attempt, cursing herself inwardly for how excited it made her feel. “What happened to you?” She wasn't looking for an answer, at least not immediately. She would have preferred he give it some thought, then approach her the next morning with an explanation (and, perhaps, an apology). “What’s wrong with you? Ever since you-”

Chagrined by her prying question, he reacted abruptly, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her back hard against the window.

His friends seemed perturbed by the action, immediately noping out of any involvement and backing out of the room for what they believed was yet to come. Ominis however took a step towards Sebastian, his wand raised, pulsing red. “Release her, Sebastian.” There was an exercised firmness in his voice as if he’d done this before. She wasn't the least bit surprised. 

What was surprising, however, was her arousal. For his hand to be large enough to cup her throat just right, she thought it unfair. His eyes commanded her gaze, nostrils flared and breath hissed over snarled lips. His words bore grit, and punctuation pronounced. “Watch. your. mouth.”

It was no suggestion, about as much room for argument as was left in her airways for oxygen to travel to and from; next to none. Her jugular pounded against the web of his thumb, and his eyelids fluttered, pupils contracting in the earth of his eyes. 

He knew. He bloody well knew how she was reacting, he had to. It shredded her innocence then, flayed it on the rack and flung her into a pit that the bastard dug himself. 

Sebastian’s lip twitched, the corner tugging upwards into a smirk. Fuck him, she thought before speaking her mind, an emphatically sharp remark cutting a web of spit that landed on his chin. It only broadened his grin, as he wiped it away with his middle finger before swiping it with his tongue.

Her sympathies were with Ominis who had to endure this display of power and obstinate threats. “You’re reprehensible, Sebastian!” he warned as a firm hand clapped his shoulder. “Leave her be. She’s gone through enough already without your mistreatments.”

But she didn't want him to leave her be. She wanted him to mistreat her even more, and leave nothing left.

Mercy was given as Sebastian released her, wringing his hand. He narrowed his eyes as she ran off towards the spiral staircase, leaving before Ominis could provide consolation. Only once she was safely out of eye and earshot did she suck in a breath. She winced, a sting of soreness at her swallow, coughing to clear her stuck esophagus.

But that wasn’t what she fixated on. Instead of fear, she felt curiosity. Instead of warnings heeded, she draped his red flags over her shoulders like expensive silks. 

Deceived into tasting forbidden fruit by a fucking snake. She could have laughed if she weren’t so fixated on the abject deploracy of it all. Every detail was ingrained in memory, down to the searing heat exhaled from his nostrils, fanning her décolletage, his inferno blazing.

And still, tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to the only spot she considered would provide some quiet reprieve…

And somewhere she could moan freely without an audience.

Thankfully the greenhouse was left unlocked, most likely by a fifth-year tasked with watering the dirigible plums after dinner and forgot to lock up. She stepped into the classroom, the humidity warmer than the cold dampness of the Slytherin dungeons, and she found a quiet corner to scoot on her bottom out of sight.

Despicable as it was, her digits committed treason and slipped under the waistband of her pajamas, sinning herself, confessing to those immoralities to please with her pleas. Her eyes wrenched shut in concentration as she drew upon her new little devious spank bank, every reaction cycling on a loop as her wrist bones cracked quietly in her panties with the fervour of her ministrations. And as close as she managed to get herself, with the image of Sebastian tattooed on tight eyelids, she almost cursed out loud when the latch on the greenhouse door clicked with movement.

She wasn't alone anymore.

She might have anticipated Ominis following her in hopes of apologizing on his behalf, but she never would have expected Sebastian to be the one stepping into the greenhouse, not after what transpired minutes ago. Perhaps Ominis talked some sense and ordered him to reconcile in person.

He leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets. “I can see you,” He said quietly, gesturing to her slippers poking out of the shadows. “What are you doing over there? Please, can you come out a moment?”

“Or what?” She replied, still trying to steady her breath, the combination of running and masturbating making it draw shallow. “You going to strangle me again if I don't?”

He exhaled, and… pleaded? “Promise I won't. That… I was out of line. You didn't deserve a moment of that treatment, not ever.”

She frowned, not expecting this change of pace whatsoever. She pushed herself up to stand, quickly wiping her fingers on the inside of her t-shirt, shuffling closer to him while maintaining adequate distance. With the enchanted heat lanterns angled at the massive venomous tentacula nearby, his face was washed with a glow that gave him a false sense of innocence. Her heart ached as she looked attentively at her former best friend for more than she had in over a year. “Sebastian,” she began, crossing her arms. “Can we talk about this in the morning? You’re drunk.”

“Not anymore,” he replied. “Ominis gave me a rather sobering talk.”

“Still.”

He sighed. “Please… we’ve gone too long without hashing this out. There’s a lot I need to say, and I’m certain the same rings true for you as well, no?”

She nodded, chewing her lip. It took several heavy seconds for him to continue, weighed down by the breadth of time spent apart. “I want to start by apologizing for how I threatened you this evening. I had a few drinks, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Even though it sounded like he was reading from a rehearsed script, his expression was genuine. “It wasn't right to scare you that way.”

If you only knew, she thought, but she wasn’t about to give him the benefit of the doubt. She looked down and focused on the small hole in the toe of her slipper. “It’s fine,” she replied, nodding. “No. I’m alright. Thank you for checking on me.”

Truth be told, she just wanted him to wrap it up so she could rub one out already. She couldn’t think of anything but his hand on her throat, and it was giving her a fuckton of bad ideas. When she looked up again he was eyeing her curiously, and the hint of narrowness in his gaze made her bottom lip tuck between her teeth.

“What were you doing here before I arrived?” 

She wondered, at that moment, if he’d spent his free time studying legilimency. Her nonchalance did not convince him. The tells were there: flushed face, rumpled pajamas, the drawstring tucked into her waistband. Still, she didn’t want him to know that she was fingerfucking herself before his surprise appearance; Merlin knows what that would do for his ego. She played it off. “Just checking the growth progress on my mallowsweet.” 

“You’re still a piss poor liar.” He huffed, though a shadow of a genuine smile made an appearance as he clasped his hands in front of him. He studied her, stepping closer. “I’ll need to be honest with you now, but I only ask that you be honest with me in return.” 

“You weren’t before?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What? No, yes—- I was being honest there, truly.” He was tripping over words, evidently still feeling some of the alcohol in his system. “I won’t lie to you, promise.” 

After consideration, she nodded. “Okay, what is it?” I’m probably going to regret this, she thought, leaning against a crate of potting soil. 

Sebastian’s expression was thoughtful, the space between his brows creased. It appeared as though he were trying to choose the proper words. “Over the past couple of years, we’ve… well, I haven’t been myself.” The halfhearted scoff from her was not lost on him, but he continued. “Ever since, you know… that, happened, I’ve experienced these disturbing feelings, impulses that make me want to do terrible things. I don't know how to describe them, but they’re not inherently good. Ominis believes I’m dealing with guilt, but it’s not so simple. It’s not that direct.”

His quiet intensity doubled down then, and he looked at her. “I’ve wanted to… to hurt you.” His voice softened as he said your name. “I’ve thought of unimaginable things, truly awful acts that made me consider my very sanity. Things that you would never deserve in a thousand years. And they aren't just passing through.” The words seemed to leave a foul taste on his tongue. “They stick around. No one knows about it, because how could I admit such a thing? Even now I’m trying to cast them out. I don't know if it’s some kind of repressed anger that you decided against turning me in, forcing me to live with the consequences of my actions without trial…”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m prattling. I just want you to know, this is the reason I’ve been so… distant, with you. It ate me up inside to stay away and it wasn't fair to you without an explanation, but I couldn't trust myself. Even now, or earlier I mean… I don’t know if these thoughts will go away entirely.” Shame settled into his features. “Still, I miss you. I have missed you, and I miss our friendship. I miss…” 

Sebastian blinked for a moment, and before she could interject he was standing right in front of her, hands on the crate behind her. She was locked in, his strong arms a barrier from freedom, but she wasn't about to attempt escape. To do so would mean she couldn't experience him this close, this intense. He towered over her, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing. “I miss what could have been. Please, be honest with me…” He took her hand then, dwarfing hers. It made her chest tight as he murmured, and the heart was apparent in his words. “Even knowing what I’ve shared, knowing fully well that I want to fight these feelings for you, would you ever… even want, to be friends again?”

Her mouth fell open slightly, the wind out of her sails. The divisiveness in her was tumultuous, warring between slapping him across the face and shouting profanely for the blind selfishness. True that there was deep anger in her heart, but there was also a void that ran deep, a cut that never healed. She looked up at him, let out a sigh, and wrapped her arms around his torso, her face in his chest.

Sebastian was caught off guard, his inhale caught in his windpipe, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return. He held her so tightly she winced, letting out a small groan, but she didn't shy away, hugging him with equal enthusiasm as they swayed with the shared experience of reconnecting a missing piece after far too long. 

“Can you tell me when those thoughts are too much to ignore?” She asked after several seconds, looking up at him, ignoring the heartbeat that skipped attendance as a result. “I don’t want you to leave me again. That… that was the hardest thing to go through. I mean, we did everything together, and then to just, suddenly not…” She sighed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His brow furrowed. “Still relentlessly selfless, I see.” He smiled, and when he breathed she was relieved to find his breath no longer carried the smell of firewhisky, instead just purely him. “I swear to you, I’ll never put you in danger ever again. If I need to talk to someone or, I don't know, distract myself. I’d sooner fling myself from the astronomy tower than knowingly cause you harm.”

She nodded, but her mind was ping-ponging an idea around that made her reconsider her sanity. Rationality missed roll call and so when she looked up at Sebastian, when the rest of the world vignetted around him, the kiss happened all on its own. 

And he was just as eager, holding her body close as he consumed in a heat that scalded her resolve. Those fucking hands of his knew precisely where to hold her, where to pull, an indication that he’d imagined this before into his fist under bedsheets. She moaned with a tender kind of tact, fingers laced in his hair, practically pulling him into her petite form.

He parted to catch his breath moments later, cheeks and nose ruddy with blood flush. “This is okay?” His eyes flickered about her face, honing in on any evidence of disagreement in her expression. “I promise I won’t be rough with you, I--”

“Sebastian,” She murmured, tracing his clavicle as she spoke. Time to come clean. With any luck, he wouldn't be horrified of her. “I… I liked it… when you choked me.”

Brown eyes blinked, and she could practically see the cogs in his head struggle to make a full rotation around her admission. “You… you enjoyed that? But--”

“I loved it.” 

His lips parted then, and she saw a new look in his eyes. Perhaps this was what he sought to keep buried from her and yet here she was, laying in the very mound of dirt he turned up. 

So much is communicated in their gaze. His expression changes, and the paradigm shifts. “Yeah?” His voice has a hint of heat, a sample of what is to come, and the way he comes to terms with this burned slowly in her belly. “You like rough stuff?”

Her face flamed. “I-I never knew… But when you…”

The thought clicked then, and he tilted his head. “…what did you say you were doing in here, again?” 

“…I didn’t.” 

A slow smirk of understanding spread and remained in place, even as his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her with more insistence this time, harder, more ragged breaths than taking her breath away. Sebastian leaned into it, teasing her with his words. “What a little imp you are, scurrying off to rub one out. I’m surprised you didn’t go to your dormitory, where I wouldn’t be able to find you, left to your own devices…”

She gasped as those tactile fucking hands of his settled at her hips, fisting the waistband of her pajamas so hard the woven texture and seams of the fabric left indentations on his palms. Her hands were put to good use then as well, attempting to unbutton his shirt without breaking their kiss, a feat in itself considering how little thought was in her brain regarding anything that wasn’t connected to his body. Sebastian resumed his little wordplay while she untucked his shirt from his trousers. “Someone’s eager, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, and he chuckled while swatting her hands away from his nearly open shirt, grabbing and hoisting her to sit on the crate. Her legs snapped open immediately and Sebastian let out the most beautiful breathy groan, leaning into her as his lips descended the column of her neck. The humidity of the greenhouse gathered a whisper of perspiration along their brows, but the heat between them was something else entirely. Finally undoing his shirt in her conquest, it fell from his shoulders and she couldn’t help but drink him in. “Sebastian, you’re…”

He seemed a touch vulnerable at that moment, but it faded lightning fast as he grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head.

Her brain was rendered a useless mound of matter as she ran her hands over his defined chest, her eyes darting to the enticing trail of hair that disappeared into his trousers. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, and her intrigue spurred him on, fed the deviant within. His hand slid up her torso, deliberately over a braless breast, settling to hold her throat. The other, however, buried between her legs and cupped her mound from over her pajamas. 

The sound she made was positively primal, and she crushed her bottom lip between her teeth as he applied pressure, rubbing his fingers in devastatingly slow circles that made her hips buck. He leaned in close to her ear as she whimpered, nipping a lobe. “That's my girl… sing for me.” 

So she did, letting the moans out freely as he tightened his grip on her neck. Her back arched as his thumb pressed into the side of her throat, and the sensation made her acutely aware of her heartbeat. It throbbed in her head and her sex, her mouth agape as his dark eyes watched her reactions, and the wicked grin he gave her pronounced his excitement. “You like that?” He asked, voice hoarse and low, laden with lust. “You like how I touch you like this?”

She nodded eagerly, trying to control the friction between her legs with more measured motions, and he obliged with enough pressure that her wetness began to wick through the fabric, ample and abundant. “Merlin, you’re already so wet for me.” The way he spoke to her was nothing short of sinful, his voice reaching a lower pitch she’d never heard before. He sped up, letting her rock into his palm as he varied the pressure on her carotid. She could come just like this, pathetic and whining and without having taken any clothing off yet. 

Sebastian seemed intent on making sure she did just that. He leaned down to mouth a nipple from over her thin t-shirt, pulling another beautiful sound of pleasure from her mouth. The cotton wet with his lips around her pebbled peak and it throttled her impending orgasm. Her moans ascended in pitch, and just as she came the hand on her throat loosened. Her climax rocketed through her then, echoing sharply off the glass panels of the greenhouse, and if anyone were in the immediate proximity they would surely know it wasn't the sound of a mandrake that wriggled loose from its pot. Thighs spasming and tight to his sides, she rode out her release against his hand, the soaked crotch of her pajamas goading him on. 

His mouth disconnected from her, capturing her lips in an almost desperate kiss, despite the confidence in his tone. “You’re beautiful when you come for me,” Sebastian purred, and he finally pulled off her shirt, baring her chest. His quiet exhale signaled his enjoyment. “Fuck, look at you…”

“You like what you see?” She found her voice mingled with a new sense of boldness as she palmed her breasts for him, giving him a rightful show. Sebastian uttered an expletive to voice his approval and eagerly claimed her lips in a breathtaking kiss as he undid his belt. 

“God, yes,” his response was airy and rough. “Look what you do to me…”

And look she did, as he untucked himself from his underwear, practically twitching with the reflex of his abs clenching, his cock so hard it could crush diamonds to dust. She bit her bottom lip as he palmed his member, a groan born deep in his chest as she scooted off the crate and sunk to her knees in front of him, the cobblestone floor biting her joints. His cock bobbed at the most beautiful fucking sight he ever saw, and with an eager grasp at his base, she took the tip past her lips.

Sebastian’s head lulled back as he let out a quiet “unh,” drawn out once she slid the rest of his length into her mouth. She took his wrists then, bringing them behind her head, and his body knew precisely what to do as his fingers combed through her hair. With an abrupt thrust, he pushed deep into her eager mouth, and the moan that vibrated around his girth was all the encouragement he needed to repeat the motion. He imparted a slow, but intense pace, and she kept up with a slacked jaw and willing tongue. His cock glistened as it slid past her lips, a delicious mix of her saliva and his precum dribbling down her chin as she let him fuck her pretty mouth. The tip hammered the back of her throat and the sound she made to suppress her gag reflex stirred something in his chest, as if the nature of his ability to determine true love had some dirty little kinks of its own. 

Then again, looking down into her eyes, gone glassy with the effort of her fellation, he had to wonder. 

She didn't offer much room for second thoughts as she bobbed forward, taking him to the very base and then some, her nose pressed into the tufts of hair at his pubic bone. He held her there as she swallowed around his cock, her throat clenched as she sucked hard. With her airways constricted her breath was caught with nowhere to go and she properly choked, her face going red. Sebastian had never experienced something this intense, and he panted with balled fists in her hair to pull tightly. 

His hips snapped, withdrawing from her mouth as she sucked in a breath, so quickly that she coughed from the rush of air. “While I’d love to keep fucking your mouth,” he grinned, and she swore she saw the devil himself, “I need you to come around my cock while I choke that pretty little throat of yours.”

His words were music to her ears. She obliged, and he pulled her up by the hair to stand again, attacking her lips, all teeth and tongues. His fingernails scratched her hips as he wrenched her pajama bottoms down, her panties joining them at her ankles before he lifted her onto the crate again. The wood scraped her bottom but she had no room to protest as his cock commanded her attention, dragging deliciously between her puffy folds. “Sebastian, please,” she mewled almost pathetically, angling her hips in hopes of slipping him in on her own. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he sighed softly, “you’re so wet…”

An unexpected moment of tenderness claimed his senses then and he looked up, their gazes meeting, hearts swelling. He cupped her cheek, swiping a spot of spit from her chin as he leaned in to kiss her with a softness that he wasn't accustomed to. For all the pain he’d known, for all the darkness that stained his being, she was the safe space to embrace. 

And he dare not let go of her. Not again. Not ever.

Her name fell from his lips as he slid inside of her. She hissed quietly as she acclimated to his length, testing his girth with a tightness that sent shivers up her spine. He rolled his hips, and she faced the heavens.

Sebastian was an intense lover, she discovered, his forehead pressed to hers as he fucked her deep, rocking on her ass with his eager motions. She was keen to contribute, her legs pretzeled around his waist, hands gripping his biceps for support, holding on for the ride of her life. Her plush warmth enveloped his cock, a silken heat that pulled him in. Their pace was perfection, enough to build their pleasure without losing traction. 

“Mm, here.” He scooped her up at the bottom, carrying her effortlessly to a nearby workstation, gesturing her to lay her back on the desktop. “I wanna see all of you…”

He grabbed her hips with an almost bruising firmness and continued to fuck her on the workstation, watching his cock pump in and out of her, and she realized with a soft chuckle why he’d chosen this specific desk. No doubt this was a slight dig at her previous crush during their third year, Leander fucking Prewett, when Sebastian had caught them snogging outside the entrance to their common room. He’d teased her relentlessly for it, and now she had half a mind to wonder if it was a little crush of his own developing back then. His wicked grin implied they were on the same page. “You little shit,” she chuckled, but it cut off as he slammed inside, pulling an especially loud moan from her. No room for Gryffindor thoughts in this snake pit. 

Sebastian’s gaze darkened with lust, his hair tousled along his forehead. One of those perfect hands claimed her throat as he shrouded her. “Yes,” she rasped, and he clasped firmly, squeezing precisely where he had to to get her heart thundering through her temples. She realized then, as her pulse became dangerously loud behind her ears, that he was timing his thrusts to her heartbeat. Her back arched with the increased pace, a symphony of gargled moans singing his praises as she quickly ascended the peak of an approaching climax. “Sebastian, I’m—I’m close…”

“I know,” he replied, unyielding in his motions. The edges of her vision greyed, and before she could protest the impending blackout, he eased his grip. At the precise moment that oxygenated blood returned to her brain, she came hard around his cock, hollering his name as she convulsed on the desk. Sebastian didn't stop, however, chasing the tails of his release with reckless abandon, hips pistoning so hard the table jostled and scraped against the floor. When he did come he punctuated it with a growled expletive, holding his hips flush to hers as her spent, quivering sex milked him for all he could give. 

He collapsed onto her chest, kissing her sternum between shallow breaths. “You felt so, so good,” he whispered, craning his neck to offer breathless kisses as she cradled his head adoringly. She gestured to sit upright and he pulled out, sooner than he’d wanted, but he could tell by her soft groan that the firm surface had to be brutal on her spine. 

Instead, she held him, melting into another appreciative kiss. “As did you. That was… I never knew it could feel like that.”

Sebastian chuckled, nosing her cheek with affection. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left you alone after all.”

Her smile faltered, and he caught the echo of pain behind her eyes. “Sorry, I… I should have talked to you about this sooner. I was wrong to have shut you out this way. I was only trying to ensure your safety.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “I’ll make it up to you, for lost time.”

“You better,” she grinned again, this time with fondness as she brushed the bangs back from his forehead. “And, maybe… we can keep exploring these new enjoyments together. Perhaps by letting you indulge in some rougher activities, it will help.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “You’d want to do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” She replied without hesitation. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer my assistance?”

A strong brow raised at that, and he smirked. “Oh, is this currently what you would define as friend behaviour between us?” he gestured to their naked forms, flushed pink with post-sex afterglow, glistening with a sheen of sweat. “Merlin, you’ve become awfully chummy.”

She rolled her eyes, thanking him wordlessly as he helped put her shirt back on before retrieving his own. “So you’re assuming I’m you’re girlfriend now or something?”

“Will you?” 

She caught it; fleeting, but there nevertheless, a fond expression that brought back memories of his younger years, a boyish charm that captured her heart long ago. Her Sebastian was still living, hidden beneath layers of tarnish and grime, but certainly there, and she would polish him back to his original splendour and shine. She nodded, and they made plans to meet again sooner rather than later because later was an awful prospect in this touching moment of reunion.

She left the greenhouse with his hand in hers, a changed woman, gladly leaving the bodies of their former selves on the floor, all akimbo and forgotten, a distraction for the pain of the past to feast upon, releasing them from the confines of their creation.

Love is a murder, after all.

[okwonyo]

SUPER SHY ⊹ S.JY

( eumppappa fighting profiles )

✸ SYNOPSIS ！ : in which there is lot of embarrassing moments in life, when you trip in front of the whole school or when your mom calls you out during a family gathering. but you know what is more embarrassing? not being able to talk to the prettiest girl on campus ─ especially when you are known for having a lot of rizz.

or in which jake has a big fat crush on you, is very pathetic and extremely delusional about it, embarrasses himself every time he tries to ask you out and his friends are no help.

© ( wonuslust ) ( back to masterlist )

EUMPPAPPAS FIGHTING GC FUN FACTS

- the gc is called like that because gunwook made a social au about eumppappa's girlfriend cheating on him and everyone supported, rted and liked everytime a new chapter was out.

- despite her cold aura, y/n is really a outgoing, open-hearted and kind-hearted person

- they are surprisingly the smartest students on campus and are called young prodigies and the academic excellence

- even though 5/6 are partying most of the time (they still work hard don't worry !)

- ning2 and chaewon kissed once

- yujin made gyuvin's header and y/n made gunwook's

- they are the students council (y/n president, yujin vice president, gyuvin secretary, gunwook treasurer, chaewon self proclaimed y/n's pr manager and ningning is happy to be here)

- they almost set gunwook's house on fire during summer vacation

- the 56 people y/n is following are the ones that followed her when she made her account. she hasn't checked her main twitter account since then because she spends her time so well she is never on social medias and when she is, she rather keep it lowkey and post on her priv. (last time she checked she had 56 followers 💀)

- ning2 ran into gyuvin's letter box with her car once and is since then reputed to be a bad driver

- y/n is known to be everyone's ideal type

- gyuvin always responds by actually, we are a polycule every time someone asks if you are all friends

( + he flirts with you all so much you might actually be one )

- they are seen as the popular and rich kids but they are really just a bunch of idiots tbh

TAGLIST : @stories-inbetween-the-stars @txtlyn @xyadix @yunicide @suminsfav @ghostiiess @bluxjun @j1nniee dm or send a ask to be added.

[thataintmymerlot]

reputation // part .1

I did something bad // look what you made me do // don't blame me

in case you save it, please like or reblog✩°｡⋆⸜

part 2

[the-kirbe-anon]

heyyyyy I want to get to know you better! :D please use this ask to infodump about a Thing You Like

Hmmm I enjoy talking about my silly Hyperfixations!

Owl City (Adam Young) is one of my very favorite musicians ever! I love his music very much because of how whimsical and joyful it is! The Tornado is my favorite because of the scream part (you gotta listen to know what I mean) and how it's about getting thru a storm! All of Owl City's music is lovely as well! Very recommended by a silly little Kirbe Anon!

I like Kirby very much, as you see! Kirby is a pink boi who battles the Horrors (very strong bad guys) to protect Dreamland! He is my favorite little guy! There's also Terminalmontage's parody of Kirby, Kirbo, as is my pfp and header image. Kirbo is basically a funnier version of Kirby and also Christian (the guy who makes the Kirbo videos is Christian as well)

There is also Ink Sans! He is a fanmade AU version of Sans from Undertale! He started out as an unfinished art project and then became splattered with color and is a guardian of all the AUs! He is my favorite fictional paint boi! I have also made two original characters inspired by him, though I'm not 100% sure what to do with them.

This Guy is Splat! He's probably the most like Ink!

And this soggy boi is Drip! He's became an Original Species called an Inkwraith! This guy is thought to be the last of his kind! (Still not 100% sure what to do with that either)

Undertale! Humans and monsters were at war and the humans sealed the monsters underground! The monsters collected 6 human souls to open the barrier and they need 7. You play as a human that can either kill all of the monsters or spare and save them! It's also a big favorite

And Trigun! It's an anime/manga series about an alien/angel guy named Vash The Stampede who's constantly on the run because he's got a huge bounty on his head because of his reputation for destroying cities, but Vash refuses to take human lives, even when it hurts himself! He fights Millions Knives, his twin brother who is the opposite of Vash, he wants to kill all of humanity because of their use of the Plants (their alien/angel species) as an energy source, so to speak. The humans need them because the Earth was destroyed and they found a barren planet to live on and they need to grow food.

I also enjoy real life things like insects, spiders, reptiles, and the like, as well as furred and feathered creatures! I own two leopard geckos, a ball python, a boa constrictor, a Mexican Red Knee Tarantulas, and two small budgies(parakeets)!

The ask said A Thing but here are Various Things that I like!

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

tag game

tagged by @jgyapologism

1. why did you choose your url?

it was something different but i made a fan account on twt and then decided to also be found here? or maybe it was specifically when twitter started going to shit and we thought it would shut down the first times that i made this account an extension of that one? (it wasnt much before). and now i dont even use twt so lol

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

no because i dont understand how they work

3. how long have you been on tumblr?.

9 years? i think i joined in 2015?

4. do you have a queue tag?

no cause i queue randomly and often. (i like getting to surprise myself with posts i like at a random later date)

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i wanted to follow accounts that talked about my interests!! also i felt too cringe for the other sites and this webbed site has a loser reputation

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

uhhhhh it was my twt one last or maybe two pride months ago and i stuck with it. (it used to be bokuto in season 4 looking at hinata with his eyebrows iykyk)

7. why did you choose your header?

the power of volleyball yuri!!! i chose it to celebrate vnl but now that vnl is over ig i can change it... but i love melissa vargas so much i want her there

8. what is your post with the most notes?

"they should invent joints that dont hurt" <- banger i know and it has like 16,000 notes last i saw

9. how many mutuals do you have?

uhhhh idk how to even tell that

10. how many followers do you have?

244

11. how many people do you follow?

96 which is a lot but not all of them are active anymore :(

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

see my most popular

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

like 2-3 times, more if im bed bound.. is this chronically online of me? probably

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

not on this website i dont think...

15. how do you feel about 'you need to reblog this' posts?

i immidiately scroll past any "you need to __" make me want to not look at it

16. do you like tag games?

yes! but sometimes they make me nervous for no reason!

17. do you like ask games?

yes but i feel bad sending the asks cause what if i do the thinks ive been asked to wrong

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

in terms of certain tags/fandoms maybe but overall tumblr famous then no

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

no <3

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 10

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

SUKUNA'S POV

He doesn't know how he got into this mess.

Sukuna was never the type to develop feelings. All he ever knew was casual sex. Just a little meaningless fun with no strings attached. Hell, he always thought he was somehow the broken twin who wasn't even capable of falling in love!

But look at him now. He is lying in his bed, wide awake in the middle of the night, staring restlessly at his ceiling because he can't stop thinking about a certain someone. You were here a few hours ago, and Sukuna's pillow still smells like your perfume, and it's driving him fucking insane! He wishes you were still here in his bed, in his arms, your naked skin pressed against his, your fingers tracing his tattoos while you joke around with him and occasionally steal a kiss.

Fuck, he wishes you stayed the whole night again, and he could wake up with you snuggled tightly against him as if his arms are your favorite place in the world.

Sukuna likes it when you spend the whole night and stay for breakfast. It's something he feels he wouldn't mind at all if it happened every night. It's a thought that is so ridiculous that it makes him laugh a low, humorless laugh.

Itadori Sukuna always had his rules. Never get attached. Never stay the night. Never let someone get too close.

But he broke all of those rules for you.

He wants to have you here. All the time. He wants to hold you every night, wants to roll onto his side behind you, and wrap your smaller body in his big, warm embrace. He wants to wake up to your soft, sleepy smile. He wants to have sleepy, lazy morning sex with you that ends in both of you laughing and joking around, making him feel alive even before he has his first cup of coffee and his morning run. He wants to make pancakes for you and walk to class with you, maybe hold your hand while doing so.

Sukuna groans and sits up in his bed, the ruffled sheets pooling around his hips as he runs a shaky hand through his messy hair.

"What did you do to me, princess?"

He asks the empty room, huffing as he rubs his face. It's so ironic what is happening to him. Sukuna has the reputation of being a fuckboy and a heartless asshole who ends things the moment his little fling tries to stake a claim on him. The campus bad boy who only does one-night stands and casual, meaningless sex. The guy who broke so many hearts that he knows there are whole hate groups dedicated to him on Instagram and Facebook.

And now he is the one losing his sleep over someone. Now, he is the one yearning. And his fucking reputation is making things even more complicated because, seriously, how can he expect you to give him your heart when he is known for being such an asshole?

A grim laugh escapes his lips. It's no use lying here and trying to fall asleep with all that on his mind. Sukuna gets up and walks over to his window only in his boxer briefs, not bothering to put on any other clothes, even as he yanks open the window and the chill night air hits his naked chest.

Sukuna hums softly as he sits on the window sill and lights a cigarette, shielding it from the wind in the palm of his large hand. He takes a deep drag, letting his head fall back as his eyes close and the nicotine fills his senses. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes to watch the cigarette smoke vanishing in the cold air blowing in from the street.

Sukuna's gaze lands on his desk and the stack of history books he borrowed from the library. He sighs and grabs the one on the top of the stack, flipping it open, his eyes scanning the page, hoping to distract himself with the descriptions of some Heian-era rituals. A topic that usually manages to keep Sukuna's undivided attention for hours.

But tonight, the words he reads don't register in his brain. Sukuna's mind strays to the smell of your perfume and your beautiful loud laugh, the way you looked at him earlier when he was on top of you and fucked you slowly, your eyes so full of something he couldn't put into words, but it made him feel all strange and almost flustered, and he had to look away, and instead lean down to kiss you with deep tongue kisses to make you stop looking at him like that as if you could see right into his soul.

"Shit."

Sukuna closes the book and stares at the dark street below his window.

He is such a fool.

The thing is, Sukuna really tried to suppress his feelings for you. He distracted himself with hockey, going to the gym even more often than usual, and lifting weights even more aggressively. Hell, he voluntarily agreed to binge-watch trashy horror movies with his brother just so his mind would shut up about you.

And when all of that didn't work, Sukuna told himself he would just fuck someone else to cure himself of those strange ideas that were filling his mind. He went to one of the many parties he always gets invited to, looking for a casual hookup. But he couldn't do it. Even just talking to another girl, one of many who wanted to join the long list of Sukuna's puck bunnies, felt wrong. Seeing her smile at him and flirt with him, so desperate for his dick, made the hairs on his arms stand up in alarm. And when she had the audacity to try sitting on Sukuna's lap, he had practically bolted from his seat and left the party in a hurry without looking back.

He had grabbed a bottle of vodka on his way out and drank way too much of it while he was sitting alone in his room, feeling like the world's biggest asshole (and for once, he wasn't proud of it) just for contemplating fucking someone else. It made him feel dirty. Like a cheater! Even though he wasn't even in a relationship with you, and nothing had happened between him and that random girl.

Sukuna had known right then that he was utterly and completely fucked.

Itadori Sukuna, fuckboy extraordinaire, was no longer interested in casual sex with various partners. He wanted to put his dick only into one person. He didn't want any one-night stands or casual flings anymore because fuck it, none of them were you. He didn't want to touch anyone else or let them touch him! It felt wrong even thinking about it!

And that's where he is now. In love for the first time in his life, scared out of his mind, and absolutely at a loss at what to do about it.

This is new territory to Sukuna. He knows sex, but he doesn't know this! Sure yeah, he wants to fuck you 24/7, wants to fuck you so good the only thing you remember is his name and nothing else, but it's not just that. Sukuna wants to spend time with you outside of having sex.

He wants to sit in the library with you on your little study dates as he has begun to refer to them in his mind. He wants you to visit him in his dorm not just to fuck, but to sit on his kitchen counter and chat with him while Sukuna cooks for you. He wants to meet up with you for coffee at midnight, tell you about hockey tactics, and listen to you tell him about the current story you are writing, hoping that when you write a love story, you think about him.

He wants to see you at all his games, dedicating his goals to you and getting his good luck kiss the night before each game. He wants to see the worry in your eyes when he gets slammed into the boards, wants you to kiss his bruises and dote on him afterward.

All those things make Sukuna feel so strangely warm, even in the most chilly hockey arena. Even lying in bed with you snuggled into his side and watching hockey videos with you on his phone is something that makes him feel happier than he ever remembered being.

It's a mess. He is a mess! Sukuna, who is usually so in control and smart about everything, suddenly feels like the biggest fool because this is something he is completely unfamiliar with. It's terrifying!

All his life, Sukuna was quite literally the King of the Ice. Unfeeling, cold-hearted, not interested. He didn't let anyone in. Always wore his cocky smirk and arrogant attitude like a shield. But then you came along.

And ever since you sneaked your way into his life, Sukuna catches himself, letting his mask slip when he is with you. He catches himself smiling at you instead of his typical smirk. He catches himself laughing genuinely with you, unrestrained and free. He lets you come to his room and stay there as if you belong there. And he hopes you want to belong there. In his room, in his bed, in his arms. He hopes you want to be his just as badly as he is yours.

He doesn't know what got into him when he told you about his past. That's another of Sukuna's rules: He never talks about his past! He doesn't think anyone deserves to know the real Sukuna. They can have this version of him he wants them to see. The rough, bad boy, the star athlete, the fuckboy the arrogant asshole.

But somehow, you make him spill things he has never said out loud before. Hell, Sukuna even catches himself telling you stuff he never even said to his twin brother! His own flesh and blood!

You changed him, and it makes him feel naked like never before. Stripped of his carefully applied mask. Vulnerable.

But as scary as that is, it also feels strangely good. Sukuna feels comfortable with you. It's such a new experience. He can just be himself, and you like him anyway. He suspects you could already see through his mask even before he got careless and let it slip. You seem to be able to read him like one of your books. Sukuna prides himself on his analyzing skills, but he thinks you are really good at those things, too. At least when it comes to him. You never let him push you away with all the stupid shit he says. You seem to find him funny, laughing loudly about his dry humor and arrogant remarks.

You are so close to him. You are his friend. And yes, that's a big fucking deal!

For as long as Sukuna can remember, he has never made friends. His grandpa always told him and Yuuji to go outside and play with the other kids. "It's important to make friends. Look at me. I am old and lonely, and when I die, I am sure only you two brats will be at my funeral. Don't end up like me!"

But Sukuna, who had always been smart, strong, charismatic, and good at anything he started, found that he had failed at that one thing. He didn't know how to make friends. He had just bullied the other kids and pushed them off the slide or threatened to beat them up if they didn't give him the soccer stickers he was collecting. He had always known how to make people fear him, admire him, or a mix of both. But he had never made a friend. His only friend has always been his brother.

But you? You are his friend, and it blows Sukuna's mind.

It blows his mind how you sneaked your way into his life and into his heart. And now everything feels different. He feels different.

Being Itadori Sukuna used to be lonely. Yes, he is the star player of the ice hockey team and, therefore, one of the most popular guys on campus. But those are just superficial connections. None of those people know him for real. But it's not like Sukuna ever cared. He didn't mind being alone. He didn't like most people anyway! He didn't need anyone besides his brother!

But now? He likes you. And he likes spending time with you. He wants you in his life. He feels so much lighter when you are with him. He misses you when he hasn't seen you for half a day! It scares him how much he needs you.

"Ah, fuck!"

Sukuna groans and throws the thick book across his room, not feeling better, though, when it hits the wall with a loud thud and falls to the floor, where it lands next to his hockey bag. Sukuna stares unseeingly at it as he takes another deep drag from his cigarette.

He is fucking scared. Sukuna, who is never scared of anything. Sukuna, who looks every rival fearlessly in the eyes before he takes them down. But this... this thing with you...these feelings he suddenly feels. This is scary.

Why do people act as if love is easy? It fucking isn't! It means someone has power over you. Power to hurt you. Power to utterly destroy you.

Fuck. Sukuna never thought it would come to this, but he is beginning to regret his life choices. Because Sukuna knows his reputation, and he knows you know it, too. And the whole fuckbuddies thing he asked you to do is just more proof of the kind of guy he is. Why would you be willing to give your heart to someone like him?

He is about to spiral more when the door suddenly gets pushed open, and Yuuji stands in the doorway,

"What the fuck was that noise? Did you throw something?"

Sukuna huffs, flicking the cigarette butt out of his window as he jerks his chin challengingly towards his brother,

"Why are you even still awake, brat?"

Yuuji shrugs,

"I was re-watching Human Earthworm. But this is not about me! What's up with you? Why are you throwing your precious history books?"

The way Yuuji says it is what gets to Sukuna. The worry in his twin brother's voice. His wide honey-colored eyes trail searchingly over Sukuna, trying to find out what bothers him, trying to help him.

And suddenly, Sukuna doesn't care about keeping up appearances anymore. Fuck it, this is his twin. This is the brat who has been attached to his hip since they were born three minutes apart. The only person who ever saw Sukuna cry, when they were seven, and Yuuji had chickenpox, and Sukuna was convinced he would die, and it scared him so much that he sobbed like an idiot at his brother's bedside.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking away from his twin and out over the nightly street as he murmurs,

"I like her."

Yuuji makes a "Ha!" sound that sounds way too triumphant and then adds,

"Yeah, I know."

Sukuna's head whirls around, and he stares at his twin incredulously. But Yuuji just rolls his eyes and shrugs,

"Come on! It's obvious! I see how much time you spend with her and how you smile when she is with you! You let her sleep in your bed and invite her over for dinner! It's so cute how you act around her!"

"Shut up, brat! It's not..."

Sukuna doesn't get any further because Yuuji interrupts him, grinning broadly at him,

"You are both so cute! To me, it's like you already are boyfriend and girlfriend!"

And Sukuna's half-hearted denial gets stuck in his throat. He stares wide-eyed at his twin. Just hearing his brother say those words sends a surge of adrenaline through Sukuna. The same feeling that fills his veins before every game. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Fuck. It should sound scary, but it doesn't. It sounds good. It sounds like everything he wants.

Sukuna sighs, hiding his face in his large hands and rubbing it desperately.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't fuck it up, man. She likes you too, I am sure! Just tell her how you feel."

Sukuna says nothing but just huffs softly and stares unseeingly at the wall behind his brother. Yuuji makes it sound so easy. As if it isn't a huge deal. As if this isn't the first time that Sukuna has felt anything like this. He clicks his tongue, and his hands automatically grab his cigarette pack again. Long fingers with black painted nails pull out another cigarette, which he brings to his lips with shaky hands.

Sukuna lights it and takes a deep drag, waiting for the nicotine to fill his veins before he sends his twin a glare and rolls his eyes in annoyance,

"Just tell her how I feel? Tsk. Do you have any other super smartass advice, brat?"

Yuuji makes an incredulous noise, about to complain, but Sukuna stops him by sighing and then adding softly, without looking at Yuuji,

"What if she doesn't want me like that? Or what if I fuck everything up? It's not like I am boyfriend material. The whole campus knows that. With my reputation, it would be no wonder if she runs."

"Oh, shut up, idiot."

Sukuna hears the shuffling of feet and then confident footsteps so very similar to his own before he feels his twin brother's body push against him, joining Sukuna on the windowsill. Yuuji bumps against Sukuna's leg and reaches out to ruffle Sukuna's hair, reversing their roles for once.

"Look at me, Kuna."

Sukuna makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, but he sighs and turns to look at his brother, the hand holding the cigarette pressed lightly against his forehead.

Yuuji looks at him with that infuriatingly compassionate look in his honey-colored eyes, always treating Sukuna with so much kindness and genuine affection, whether he deserves it or not. Even Yuuji's voice is soft and gentle, understanding, when he tells Sukuna,

"You won't fuck it up. I know you are scared you will break her heart because that's all you ever did to girls. But it won't happen this time, Kuna. I know it. I know you. She is too important to you. And as tough as you like to act, you have a soft spot for the ones you love. Even if we are very few people. But if someone manages to break through your defense and find a way into your heart when you would do anything for that person. And she definitely broke through your defense."

Yuuji laughs good-naturedly and pokes Sukuna's chest with his index finger while he adds,

"It doesn't matter what you did before she came into your life. It doesn't matter that you used to think you would never fall in love. You changed. You have found your person. And that's all that matters. Not your past or what you used to think about relationships. All that matters is what you'll do from now on. And come on, my big brother is always the best at everything he does! So I know you will be an amazing boyfriend if you let yourself walk that path."

There's a lump in Sukuna's throat all of a sudden, and he gulps hard, feeling lightheaded somehow at hearing Yuuji say all those things. Sukuna does the only thing he knows to do in that situation and pats Yuuji's finger away, acting annoyed, even though he feels like he is overflowing with gratefulness for having such a good little brother.

Yuuji chuckles softly, patting Sukuna's hand away, too. His lips lift in a mischievous grin, a grin that is far too similar to the one Sukuna sees in the mirror. Sukuna steels himself for trouble right when Yuuji opens his mouth and adds in a sly tone,

"And if everything I just said wasn't enough to convince you, ask yourself how would you feel if she graduated and moved away and lived a life without you? How would you feel about that? Or if she starts dating another guy right in front of your eyes because you never told her how you feel, and she thinks you don't like her that way? How would that make you feel?"

And suddenly, blood is rushing in Sukuna's ears, and a vein is throbbing in his temple as he stares at his twin. Now that was a fucking eye-opener!

When that Gojo brat tried to hit on you, Sukuna saw red like never before in his life. The thought of seeing you with Gojo or any other guy makes him feel sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to lose you. He could never get over it if you dated someone else because Sukuna was too much of a coward to tell you he likes you.

You're his girl, and Sukuna is your boy, and anything else sounds like a cruel joke! And he realizes right fucking now that it's in his hands! The only way to make you hopefully stay with him is to be honest with you.

And yeah, that is a fucking scary thought. Opening up about his feelings, baring his heart to you on a silver platter, sounds like the scariest thing Sukuna ever did. But the thought of seeing you walk away because Sukuna wasn't man enough to tell you how he feels is scarier than walking up to you and dropping his mask and confessing how he feels.

Sukuna reaches out to clap his brother's broad shoulder appreciatively, wordlessly thanking him for the much-needed pep talk and advice.

He knows what he has to do now. Fuck it! He is Sukuna! He is the fucking King of the Ice! He is someone who laughs fear in the face and wrestles it to the ground, and works his ass off to get what he wants, no matter how big the challenge is!

He won't act like a scared little boy anymore! He will tell you how he feels!

"Hey, princess."

Sukuna walks up to you, where you are grabbing some books from your locker, looking far too pretty and sexy in the leggings and oversized sweatshirt you are wearing. You jump slightly at hearing his voice behind you. It's so fucking cute.

You turn around as Sukuna stops in front of you, looking up at him with big eyes and a little grin as you greet him.

Sukuna smirks at you as he reaches out to ruffle your hair, a move that always earns him the cutest little squeal from you and a half-joking, half-annoyed roll of your pretty eyes as you pat his hand away. But as always, you cannot stop the happy smile from spreading over your face. The smile that always makes Sukuna's heart feel a lot warmer.

He is so smitten it's embarrassing. But judging by the way you giggle and wrap your small hand around Sukuna's biceps, leaning closer so your face and tits press lightly against his arm while you smile up at him, Sukuna can easily pretend that you feel the same way about him.

Well, he will find out if he is right soon, won't he?

He walks you to your creative writing classroom, carrying your books for you while inwardly giving himself a pep talk, the same one he gives himself before every hockey game. You can do it! You will get anything you want! You will reach your goal. You are the fucking King of the Ice, man!

Sukuna stops in front of your creative writing classroom handing you your stack of books, his lips lifted in a lopsided grin as he cocks his head, silently applauding himself for how casual he manages to act even while his pulse is fluttering nervously and his muscles are all tensed up from how scared he is to fuck this up. But his voice comes out in his usual lazy drawl when he tells you,

"We have to work on your ice skating skills. Meet me at the arena tonight at ten."

You hug the books to your chest, tilting your head and blinking up at Sukuna with a little confused frown on your pretty face that he would love to kiss away right this fucking second.

"At ten? But is it even still open that late?"

"Let that be my problem, princess. So, are you coming?"

Sukuna shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, one eyebrow raised expectantly as he grins at you. If you say no, he will literally start pouting and use every ounce of charm he has in himself until you say yes.

But he doesn't have to worry. You laugh softly and nod,

"Of course, I'll be there."

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭💗💗 I had the time of my life writing this chapter from Sukuna's POV!! It always hits me right in the feels when I do that because it makes me feel so close to him.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and all the things that flow through Sukuna's mind. If you haven't already done it, please listen to "Novocaine" by The Band Camino because it describes Sukuna's turmoil perfectly. While working on this chapter, I listened to it on repeat, and also "Tequila" by Dan + Shay, because it also describes this YEARNING, I think. Oh god, I am so in love with him, it's not even funny anymore 😭😭

Sighhhhh, he really likes us, hm? 😵😍

In the next chapter, Reader will meet Sukuna at the ice hockey arena, but it's a bit more than just the private ice skating lesson that she expects.

Thank you so much for all the love you give this AU! It means the world to me and makes me so happy! I wish you all a Happy New Year! 💗💗

Reblogs and comments would be very sweet.