#but sometimes in life you just have to find god in the small things

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter six | the lakes

pairing — satoru gojou x fem!reader

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 5.6k

warnings — nsfw (minors dni), explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnilingus, explicit smut, profanity, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, age difference

notes — this is like my second time writing smut in like 2 years gimmie a break pls. anyways. hello to my cursed seas babies, don't worry i will never abandon my og child you can be assured its my first priority, unless i have writers block which unfortunately happened and thats why this chapter is short and why i SEVERELY dislike it. enjoy ;)

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

♪ the lakes — taylor swift

previous chap. you're on your own, kid | next chap. (coming coon)

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your father's small, cozy home, casting warm light across the room as you silently folded the last of your clothing into a worn leather bag.

Your father sat at the table in the dining room, watching you with a pensive expression, his hands resting on his lap. It had been a few days since you returned to Elysport, and in that time, he had treated you like the little girl he had lost so many years ago. Considering your relationship over the last few years, the affection he had shown you was more than you had expected.

“Are you sure you want to go? There might be another way to find out what happened to your mother.” 

You paused, looking down at your packed bag before facing him. “Father I’m sure. There are things I need to know—about Mom. And I think this is the only way I will get any answers.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “Alright, but promise me something—promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded. “I promise,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You didn't want to leave, not really. This small part of Elysport, your father’s home—it was a sanctuary compared to the madness of the ship you were about to return to. But you had made your choice and you knew that you couldn’t stay here forever.

“I’ll be back,” you said softly, “Soon.”

Your father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting.” 

With a final glance around the room, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door. 

Making your way through the streets of Elysport gave you time to think about what going back to Gojou’s ship meant. And it meant diving headfirst into a world of chaos once again and having to face him after everything that had happened.

And you didn't like that idea. 

The docks soon came into view and you could see the massive silhouette of Gojou’s ship towering above the rest. You hesitated as you stood at the pier's edge, watching crew members bustling about, preparing for the next leg of their journey. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and began walking toward the gangplank. You found him near the helm overseeing his ship as he usually would. When he spotted you approaching, his eyes widened briefly before narrowing in that familiar way that made your stomach twist.

“Back already?”

You set your bag down, taking a deep breath before answering. “I told you I’d be back last night.”

Gojou’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the crew.

"Well, you're just in time. We're setting sail soon. Grab your things and get ready." 

You waited for more—some snide comment, some half-hearted insult—but it never came. His voice lacked that usual bite and he avoided directly looking at you, which was strange in itself. 

It was strange, this new version of him—one that didn’t bark orders or throw insults your way at every opportunity. 

It was... comforting in a way.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something bright—a familiar tuft of pink hair. Yuuji was perched high in the crow's nest, his energy impossible to miss, even from afar.  He instantly noticed you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically, calling your name across the deck. You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of him. His energy was infectious and his kindness was a rare comfort. You lifted your hand in return, waving back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the railing watching the waves lap against the side of the ship. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Captain Gojou approaching.

He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between the two of you like a taught wire.

“You won’t ask why I let you back so easily?” 

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I figured you just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” you said, your words laced with a hint of bitterness.

Gojou chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m not as heartless as you think.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He winced at that, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back at you, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not good at this... at any of this. You want to hate me, I get that. Hell, maybe I deserve it. But I’m trying, alright?” His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The Gojou standing next to you wasn’t the arrogant, reckless captain you had grown accustomed to.

“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “But you make it really hard sometimes.”

Gojou let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good at that.” He paused, his expression softening. “But I meant what I said. You did good back there. And... I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the Gojou who you had kissed so desperately in that hotel room was not as far away as you thought. The waves lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, the sound calming as you stood in silence next to Gojou.

“About earlier,” he began. “When I left your room… I just—” He paused, seemingly frustrated, like he was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “You always mean to be an ass.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not like that. Not this time.”

You turned to face him, fully leaning against the railing. The fading evening light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the pale strands of his hair that moved gently with the breeze. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the infamous captain you had grown to know—he looked… tired. 

“It’s not like you to apologize. What’s going on?”

He frowned, his gaze dropping to the deck below, his hand absently drumming against the wooden railing. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just… you’ve been different. This whole situation has been different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began slowly, as if testing each word before saying it, “I don’t know why I keep pushing you away when I don’t want to.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession. He wasn’t the type to open up easily—especially about things like this. And for him to admit that he didn’t want to push you away… it was almost too much to process.

“But you do,” you pointed out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You push me away every chance you get.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping for a moment before he straightened, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… easier, I guess.” His gaze finally met yours, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to take your breath away. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Crew, friends, family.” His voice grew quieter. “It’s easier not to get attached.”

“And me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Am I just another person to lose?”

Gojou hesitated, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to be.”

This wasn’t just the arrogant, reckless captain speaking—this was Satoru, the man behind the mask. And the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally seeing you for the first time, sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could say anything more, Gojou spoke again, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re really leaving your father for this?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your bag.

You nodded. “I need to know the truth about what happened to my mother. And… I need to find that treasure and be with the map.”

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the map, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. You knew he didn’t like talking about the map—it was the one thing that seemed to come between the two of you time and time again.

“I’ll take you back onboard. But I need you to understand something.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression serious. “This isn’t a game. Whatever you’re getting yourself into with Sukuna, it’s dangerous. It's more dangerous than you realize. I don’t trust him or whatever he is up to.”

Sukuna. 

That must have been the man with the pink hair you were talking to in the marketplace. You didn’t expect Gojou to know who he was, or at least know him enough to have that look on his face.

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I have to do this.”

Then, slowly, Gojou nodded, as if finally accepting your decision. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “But if anything happens, I’ll kill Sukuna myself.”

Without another word, Gojou turned and began walking back toward the ship, his usual swagger returning with each step. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of what lay ahead heavy on your mind.

Captain Gojou leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the ocean and the small port where they’d docked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and workers from the docks were beginning to head home. His crew had grown restless after days without a break, so he’d ordered a stop at a quieter port for some shore leave. But he hadn’t been completely honest about why he gave the order—it was mostly for the map. He wanted a chance to study it carefully and had recently decided they would soon start the journey it promised, especially now that you had rejoined them. The treasure it led to was dangerous, and he knew he’d need a solid plan if he, you, and his crew were going to make it out alive.

After a moment of contemplation, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you coming up from below deck. He grinned, giving you a casual wave. “Looks like everyone’s scattered,” he said. “You wanna go for a walk?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. But what’s the reason?”

“Because I asked you nicely, Y/N.”

“Fine, I could use some fresh air anyway. Your ship’s unnaturally stuffy.”

Before the two of you departed the ship, Gojou made his way to his captain’s quarters to stow the map away safely. You assumed it was for security reasons, considering how much of a pain in the ass he’d been when trying to take it from you. After he returned, you both took off your shoes and walked down the gangplank together, stepping into the shallow water and heading down the beach toward the port town. Gojou’s ship was too large to fit in the small port, so he’d had to anchor it a little way off the coast. It was a bit of a hassle, but you didn’t mind.

You and Gojou had made it halfway down the beach before he broke the silence. "You know, I wasn't born a pirate."

You turned to him, surprised by his revelation. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Although, now that I think about it, you seem like a child who was spoiled far more than he should have been."

He gave a small shrug. "Pretty much. When I was a child, I ran away from home. I had met a young pirate, the same age as me, and he showed me another side of life. The place where I grew up felt like a prison and I wanted out."

"Oh. What happened?" you asked quietly.

"My family… my family had high expectations for me. They expected me to marry another girl from a rich family, a girl I had never met, a girl I didn't love. They expected me to be the head of the family when my father died and live up to the Gojou family legacy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left in the middle of the night. No one came looking, either.” His voice softened. “Guess they were happy to be rid of me.”

"Was it hard to live like that?"

"I stole for a little while, I had no name, no ship, and barely any money. After a few months to a year, I was able to make a living for myself and I never looked back."

“You never went back? Not even to see how your family is doing?”

"No, my father was a bastard and could have given two shits about how his own family felt about him. I actually spent some time living in Saltstone Port when I was eighteen, it wasn't too bad. You used to live there, right?"

Wait how did he know that?

"Anyway, we're almost there, do you wanna find a bar? Since you know, you like drinking."

“Who said I like drinking?”

“I did,” he said with a smirk.

And that's how the two of you found yourself in a dimly lit corner of a booth, ordering round after round as a way to “unwind” as Gojou said. Somehow, unwinding meant downing enough drinks to make the room spin. 

“To—” He paused, squinting at you. “To us, and to making it through yet another day without you murdering me,” he toasted, raising his mug with a smirk. You clinked your glass against his as you sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your veins. As the alcohol loosened you up, you began telling Captain Gojou things you shouldn’t have, things you probably won’t remember in the morning.

As the night went on, the two of you began inching closer and closer to each other. At some point, he’d moved his arm around your shoulders, and you’d stopped noticing, letting yourself melt into his warmth.

“Y’know,” he slurred, eyes glassy as he looked at you. “I always thought I was fine alone.”

You tilted your head, blinking slowly as you tried to focus on his face, which kept swimming in and out of view. “That so?” you mumbled, giggling as you took another sip of your drink. “Thought you liked being all ‘mysterious and distant,’ Captain.”

“I… I dunno.”

Your heart did a funny little skip, and you glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Maybe it’s the drinks talking,” he muttered.  “Or maybe it’s just…you make things… less lonely.”

Gojou,” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.

“I like having you around,” he mumbled. His gaze flicked down to the empty glasses on the table. “But we should… get back to the ship, yeah?”

You could barely remember the journey back to the ship. When you made it back to his ship, you stumbled towards his captain’s quarters, exhausted from your night out. As you reached his bed, you tugged on your shirt, frowning. “Ugh, I can’t sleep in this. It’s filthy.” The fabric was sticky and wrinkled, and the thought of crawling into bed with it on was almost unbearable.

Gojou chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. “You’re a bit of a handful, you know that?”

Ignoring his teasing, you started to strip off your clothes, too tired and too drunk to care about modesty. You caught the faintest widening of his eyes before he quickly looked away, a strange sort of awkwardness flashing over his face.

“Better than being boring,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you ducked under the covers, the warmth of the bed wrapping around you. The soft linens felt heavenly, and you sank into them with a sigh, your eyes already drifting shut.

“Goodnight, Gojou,” you murmured, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you watched him from beneath half-closed lids.

“Goodnight,” he said softly. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe for a moment longer, before he finally slipped out of the room, leaving you to the gentle lull of sleep.

When morning came, the sunlight filtered softly through the small window. You stretched, blinking sleepily as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, and as you shifted beneath the covers, you became very aware that you were still bare under the blanket. You stifled a groan, recalling your insistence on sleeping without your filthy clothes, and your face flushed with embarrassment. At least Gojou had seemed too out of it to really care.

Quickly, you climbed out of bed, searching the room until you found your discarded clothes from the night before. You tugged them on hastily, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to compose yourself as best you could.

You stepped out onto the deck, the salty morning air filling your lungs as you glanced around. You wanted to ask him something, and to ask him that something you needed to find him first. You managed to find him perched on a higher part of the deck. Noticing your footsteps, he turned around and before he could speak you opened your mouth first.

“I need a bath.”

The words left your mouth with a bluntness that surprised even you. You were covered in grime from the ship and smelled like salt from the sea, it made every inch of your skin itch for a proper soak. After days of being at sea, all you wanted to do was feel clean.

“Well, this place doesn’t exactly have the best facilities for that,” he said, surveying the streets. “But… I might know a spot.”

You tilted your head. “Not exactly helpful, Captain.”

“Follow me, then. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you’re willing, I’ll show you a river that’s a hell of a lot nicer than any of the baths in town.”

You and Gojou made your way out of the port city and through winding paths that eventually opened up to a dense forest just beyond the edge of town. Gojou was quiet as he guided you through the bush towards the spot, glancing back at you every now and then.

The two of you reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a serene river winding through the open land. The water sparkled underneath the sun, so crystal clear and inviting it nearly hurt to look at.

“Not bad, huh?” Gojou said, standing beside you.

“It’s… beautiful.”

Gojou shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’ll do the job. Go on.”

Your gaze looked to him as he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “What, you think I’m just going to strip down right here?” you teased.

“Not my fault if you can’t handle a little river bath. Besides, who’s gonna see?”

With a deep breath, you started to peel off your outer layers, feeling the rough fabric leave your skin before carefully folding it on a rock nearby. You kept your eyes trained on the river, trying to ignore that he was sneaking glances, but you secretly didn’t mind. You turned to meet his gaze before turning your back to him, realizing how close the two of you actually were.

Once you shimmied out of the rest of your clothes, you waded into the river, the chill of the water sending goosebumps through your body. You went deeper into the water, washing away the grime and heat of the day. When you turned back, you saw that Gojou hadn't moved from his spot; he simply watched from where he stood.

“You know, the water’s plenty big enough for two,” you called out to him, splashing in his direction with a grin. “Or are you too scared of a little cold?”

Something mischievous sparkled in his eyes. You think I’m scared of a little cold water?”

He began unbuckling his belt with a smirk, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His toned frame caught the sunlight, the faint scars scattered across his torso telling stories he rarely spoke of. “Let’s see who’ll be begging to get out first,” he teased.

Your eyes trailed down his body as he began walking into the water. When your eyes made it toward his pelvis before you had to stop yourself from going any lower, reminding yourself it was indecent.

“It's as warm as the sea,” you teased, floating on your back and letting the gentle current carry you.

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter.”

The two of you were naked, but you didn’t seem to mind, and neither did he.

“So, where did you learn to be so comfortable in the water?” he asked, kicking lazily as he floated beside you.

“My father,” you replied, glancing up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “He used to bring me to rivers like this when I was a kid. Said it was the best way to wash away the world for a while.”

Gojou nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying you. “Smart man.”

​​You chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’m disappointing him by being… here.” You gestured around you. “Running off to play pirate with people that are hardly respectable.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost missed them. “And, honestly, I think it’s brave. Not many would have the guts to do what you’ve done.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Gojou continued to float nearby as sunlight filtered through the trees overhead. He didn't try to hide the way his eyes roamed over your body, and you could feel he was growing bolder by the minute.

"You know, you clean up real nice," he muttered, his voice lower than usual.

You let out a small chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his intense stare. "I could say the same for you."

Silence enveloped the two of you as he drifted closer, standing up when he got close to you. You were in a shallow part of the water, which made the water about waist height. It was unfortunate that it was the only thing that covered his lower half because it was see-through. His fingers came up to brush your arm, lingering for a moment too long, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you two, standing so close that you could feel his warm breath fan your face. His hand drifted to your waist, feeling the soft, plush skin before sliding his hand around your back as his other hand came up to trace along your jaw. When you leaned in, you found yourself tilting your head up, your lips parting instinctively.

The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters in a way the two of you had only done once before. But then the kiss deepened, his fingers tightening on your waist as if he was afraid to let go. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands finding their way to his broad shoulders as you traced the muscles there, losing yourself in the kiss.

Gojou shifted the two of you, pressing you gently against the smooth edge of a nearby rock. One hand braced himself beside you against the rock with the other made its way down your backside.

His lips trailed along your jawline, sending sparks throughout your body, and when he kissed you again, it was like he was claiming something he had not dared touch before.

The kiss slowed as both of you caught your breath, still tangled in each other's arms as you steadied yourselves. Gojou's lips hovered near yours, his expression filled with desire.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If you're up for it… we don’t have to stay out here." His fingers traced gentle circles against your back. “There’s places in town. Places a bit more... private.”

You felt your pulse quicken and your heart race at his suggestion. “Yeah... let’s go.”

Neither of you wasted another second. Hands fumbling, you slipped back into your clothes, laughter and shared glances filling the space between you. Gojou helped you fasten a few buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. Once dressed, the two of you scrambled over rocks and brush, the cool evening air sharp against your skin after your bath—but in the heat of the moment, you hardly noticed.

You made your way back the way you came, with Satoru practically dragging you through town, looking for somewhere that wouldn’t ask too many questions. The sky was now dark, and the nightlife of the port had begun. Finally, he stopped in front of a modest hotel along a quiet street, breathing heavily from his excitement.

“Here,” he said.

You both hurried inside, catching the attention of the older man at the front desk. His eyebrow lifted as he eyed the two of you, taking in your windswept appearance and the clear look of anticipation you both wore. He sighed, passing you a key with a knowing look. “Just… keep it down, eh?”

A mischievous laugh escaped Gojou as he snagged the key and tossed you a wink. “No promises."

The two of you dashed up the narrow staircase, careful not to trip in your haste. When you finally found the room, Gojou fumbled with the key, his hands practically trembling as he tried to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him—a pirate captain, renowned for his cool composure, completely undone by anticipation.

“Need some help?" you teased, biting back a grin.

“Hey, keep that up and I might reconsider,” he shot back.

After fumbling with the key for a while, he finally managed to get it inside the lock and unlock the door. The room wasn't much, with only a small bed, a few chairs, and a vanity to decorate it, but it would do.

The two of you stumbled inside the room kissing fervently as he closed the door with his foot. You walked backward, leading him to the small bed in the center of the room.

“You're so beautiful to me,” he spoke in a hushed voice.

Your fingers reach up to his collar, gently pulling him down and pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Nothing prevented you from him when your fingers began to work on the already half-undone buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements.

You continued your path to the bed and before long you felt the back of your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards on the plush cushions. The desire was mutual, you could see it in his eyes, and there was an urgent need to be closer on a level beyond words. Satoru moved his hands up and down your sides, caressing the curve of your back and touching the delicate skin of your waist.

He broke the kiss before moving down to your bust, removing the layers of your clothing to reveal your supple breasts. His pupils were fully blown completely covering his cerulean eyes, wanting to submit to his carnal desires. He leaned down kissing you once more, feeling the slopes of your breasts pressed against his chest in your lip-locking exchange.

You sat up before flipping the two of you over so you could be on top, a wave of confidence overtaking you. You slowly kissed down his body before reaching his trousers and undoing the ties of his breeches. Before you knew it, you were crawling off of his lap and laying on your stomach between his legs.

To be completely honest, you had never pleasured yourself before, let alone a man.

Your eyes widened as you pulled off his breeches, releasing his aching member that revealed a size that was proportional to his height.

"Sweetheart—ngh! Don't tease me like that."

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes he had dreamed about, and he thinks he somehow got harder.

"But what if I want to?"

"Ah fuck, please sweetheart? I'm so hard already," he whined.

"Um, I don't really know how to do this… so please forgive me."

You had a friend back in Elysport who was a courtesan for the wealthy, often having sex with married men for money. You never judged her, as she was a friend, but she had taught you a couple of things including how to give a man a hand job, but you had never thought you would need to use it, not in a situation like this with a man like him.

Satoru looked down at you, and awaiting your next move he decided to wrap a hand around his cock.

"Fuck sweetheart," he moaned. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this with you."

Something inside you awakened when he said that—something bold, you decided to replace his hand with your mouth. His deep and guttural moans were enough to encourage you to keep going and take his entire length.

Your mouth is so warm and fuck babe was all you could hear him say. It gave you a confidence boost hearing his constant praise.

You continued until he suddenly tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock. Frowning, you looked at him wondering why he did that when he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I was about to cum."

Disappointed you made your way back up his body, kissing him deeply once more. He flipped the two of you over so he was back on top, kissing your neck and feathering soft kisses around the bruised skin before moving down to your breasts. He alternated between both of them, giving them equal amounts of attention by biting and sucking at the flesh and biting at your nipple.

"S-Satoru," you moaned, arching your back to meet his chest, as he descended further and further own your body to where you needed him the most. On his way down, he muttered a "Lift your legs." before removing your soaked pair of panties that he threw somewhere in the room, not caring where they landed. He was quick to dive head-first into your sopping cunt, lapping at your entrance with his tongue, exploring your walls until you were softly moaning his name.

"Fuck you taste so sweet," you could hear his muffled voice from between your legs. He encircled his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading your lips apart to look at your weeping hole. He sat up, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you to the point of tears.

"S-Satoru, Please!"

"Fuck. Good Girl," he muttered before sliding himself in.

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you.

He was insatiable, he couldn't get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He was moaning loudly from the feeling of your warm, velvet walls milking his cock. He continued to thrust inside you, sitting up with his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside you.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out," he says. “You’re taking me so well,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.

"Satoru," you moan, your walls clenching around his length. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft hair.

He knows what he's doing, and you can feel that smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he peppers kisses on your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts.

Wanting to please him, you quickly get on all fours and he immediately presses you back down onto the mattress. He lifts your ass as you arch your back even more. He palms the flesh of your ass in his hands before entering you once more.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in your small hands. When Satoru notices this he moves to interlock your fingers, pressing his chest against your back to pound into you.

"Satoru, ah—" you whine.

"I know, I know," he grunts. You can feel your walls tightening around his thick cock "Fuck—so good." you moan.

“Gonna make you cum so hard.”

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, leaving you breathless and wanting to reach your orgasm. A couple of more thrusts against your g-spot bring you the most incredible orgasm.

“Fuck Sweetheart, I’m close.”

It takes a few more thrusts before his movements become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you. You feel his sweaty forehead drop against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath. After a few moments, he lifts his head off your shoulder and moves to lie next to you. You flip yourself on your side, eyes focused on the ship's wooden panels as your chest heaves.

You feel Satoru shift next to you, pressing his chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

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[mad-hunts]

if barton tried hard enough, he thought, imagining himself being literally anywhere else but the warehouse right then was easy. this place was never meant to be lived in for an extended period of time after all; despite the fact that it had appliances that you might see in an every day home like a fridge.

it put him on edge instead of at ease, and it certainly didn't better barton's mood when he stayed in it either, after all. but so long as he was allowed to dream within it to some degree... it was tolerable. plus, he had company here, courtesy of nico, jack, and barton also supposed jervis counted. nico had complicated feelings towards the doctor, though, and spending time around jack whilst in it thus far gave barton an unfortunate impression; which was that his own son was made nervous by him.

and the irony of it all was, barton only gathered that because he could feel cognitive empathy towards him. something that didn't include feeling but reasoning. therefore, the hopes of him somehow patching that up with jack someday were drastically decreased. barton vaguely listened to jervis respond to what he'd said about him being in the warehouse solely because of them; all of the words but one not quite having any actual impact on him, this being 'nightmares.'

the smell of the yuja tea that jack prepared for jervis, as fragrant in the air that it was, seemed to be the one thing keeping him from being sucked down a unpleasant train of thought. for someone who didn't feel human half the time, barton sure as hell experienced his own fair share of seeing 'ghosts' from the past and mourning the way some things had gone in his life. and regret, as well as sorrow, were practically intertwined in every single 'normal' person's life that he'd known.

speaking of regret, once he'd closed the curtains, something from the small cabinet hanging on the wall next to them fell to the floor. barton picked it up and was immediately reminded of why he kept this photo here instead of at his home. hiding it away helped alleviate the pain of not only loving someone and losing them, but also knowing that at the time it was taken, everything seemed fine.

'my 19th birthday party - spent right, with my handsome fianc��!' was written on the back in marcy's handwriting. barton felt like screaming and smashing something simultaneously. the photo was instead placed in his pant pocket, whilst he dragged his hands down his face and thanked his lucky stars that jervis wasn't exactly expecting any big conversations from him. barton's hand flexed by his side before he was changing his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do after seeing that again.

grief was a thing he'd never been able to pend down how to deal with 'appropriately,' unfortunately. from marcy, to the momentary blink of an eye that felt like his bittersweet friendship with yves, to his son julien's death - barton thought he'd be destroyed by all of those losses for the longest time. but he supposed he was still here, god willing, or laughing at him more like if such a being did exist. barton noticed the fabric that was splitting on the blanket and how jervis very much appeared to be in his own world.

it was at that moment that he reached for something in that same cabinet he'd opened to change his shirt, finding that sewing thread and needle he'd stored in there long ago. barton kept it there because the shirt he was wearing had actually torn at some point and he'd fixed it. though, he had no use for it now, so he decided to put it on the edge of edge of the cabinet if jervis wanted it. but he didn't really know what he wanted. that night seemed to be a series of gut punches now as the other touched upon how jack was a good person and barton should be proud of him.

he blinked several times as he felt this sensation like something ugly was swirling within him. jack had always kind of gotten the short-end of the stick, and for what? ❝ ahh. well, sometimes i've found myself practicing behaviors towards him that my father used to use on me... but i try to stop myself when that happens. jack has come a long way, as the first time i met him, he was a scared two year old who was on his own with his brother. but now jack's a young man and very brave, despite maybe still being scared sometimes. ❞ barton cleared his throat then, ❝ that's normal though. so yeah, i am proud of him. ❞

barton turned his attention back to jervis and tilted his head at the other's sluggishness. being vulnerable like that surprisingly didn't feel too nerve-wracking, as he added just a bit more to the equation. barton gave the iv bag jervis was hooked up to a good squeeze, ❝ hmm. are you still in pain, jervis? or are you just tired? ❞ he observed the other silently and looked down at the cards before the both of them. that is, before barton heard jervis approve of him reading his fortune.

he drifted a hand along the cards then. choosing one that felt 'right' came without much difficulty to barton, and when he did, the reversed 'wheel of fortune' card for jervis's past. the next card he chose was the reversed 'six of swords' for jervis's present. barton flipped the last one for his future and was greeted by 'the sun,' which made him let out a soft 'huh' and smile a bit. ❝ well... i hate to start off with the past when you got this card, but i guess we have to. ❞ he was about to start interpreting jervis's fortune when jack came back into the room with the breakfast he promised the other. well, talk about convenient timing.

Jervis merely rolled his eyes at Barton’s remark, fingers biting into the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it around his shoulders like an old shawl. The plush material was a little threadbare at the corner; a tear disrupting the otherwise seamless fabric.

Sea-green and white plaid. Utilitarian, impersonal.

It sufficed perfectly; his thin frame was almost terminally intolerant to the cold. 27 years in Gotham had failed to inoculate him against the frigid rains and bone-chilling air sweeping off the harbor.

“Trust me, I’m well aware where I would be, if it weren’t for you both. I see enough of the place in my nightmares… so I don’t require any reminders.” He flexed his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he cautiously tipped the liquid into his mouth. It had a strange, but not unpleasant consistency, like warm, thin honey that slid smoothly over his tongue in a tangy blend of sweet and sour. Tiny bits of softened citrus peel floated in the syrupy mixture.

Barton’s IV pole scraped slightly along the concrete floor, a sharp metallic sound that mingled with the sudden rasp of the curtains being jerked shut. The room was clean and sparse, a sterile space designed to be free of clutter, yet a faint, telltale mustiness clung to the air—a lingering scent of damp fabric and stale dust that disinfectant alone couldn’t quite mask. Beyond the makeshift partition, the rest of the warehouse stretched out in vast, dark emptiness. The floor was cold, unpolished concrete, marred with cracks that split like spider webs. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uneven glow, barely cutting through the haze of dust that swirled in the air.

But, of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to hideaways—especially when you’ve learned to take shelter wherever you can find it. Or when you were part of the criminal element.

How far he’d come and how little had truly changed.

Jervis glanced across the room at where his coat, shirt, and gloves rested neatly on the desk, carefully folded with almost surgical precision. He flexed his hands again around the teacup, feeling the phantom prickle of sensation where the wool-lined leather should be—an exposed vulnerability that gnawed at him, made his skin itch with invisible grime.

He sank his teeth into a particularly broad piece of yuja peel, the bitter tang releasing as he bit down; meanwhile, Barton’s voice drifted in one ear, out the other like the static hum on a faulty wireless. He chewed slowly, savoring the rind as he turned his attention back to the small tear in the blanket. Nodded intermittently.

Jervis’ callused, scarred fingers found the frayed edge; the fabric was worn thin and splitting, and he traced it absentmindedly, feeling the uneven fibers beneath his touch. For a moment, his thoughts shifted to the sewing kit buried somewhere in his bag, imagining the small spool of thread and the thin, glinting needles; each one ready to pierce the fabric and pull it back together.

As if stitching this small wound would make any real difference, he thought bitterly; like it could somehow soothe the cold reality pressing in on them from all sides… It was a small, pointless task, a flicker of control in a situation that felt like it was slipping away, unraveling faster than he could sew it back together. He knew it wouldn’t ameliorate anything—wouldn’t solve the problems looming larger than this tiny, frayed corner. And yet, his fingers lingered there, desperate for something tangible to fix; something he could make whole again, if only for a moment.

Jervis gave no reply as Barton moved to change his shirt; blinking hard as he gazed down at the floor, but the darkness behind his eyelids refused to stay empty. Flecks of indigo light bloomed in the black, shifting like dust motes that twisted with each beat of his heart. The room swam as he opened his eyes again, the ceiling blurred and murky like the styrofoam cup Alice stored her wet paintbrushes in. He scratched absently at the IV in his arm, feeling the tug of the thin plastic embedded in his skin but barely registering the discomfort. The bright pinpricks danced at the edges of his vision, trailing like little comets whenever he turned his head.

“You ought to be proud of him, I imagine. Your son… he seems like a good lad.” Jervis’ voice was a wisp of silk, smooth and thin, like it might unravel into nothing if he spoke too loudly. He tilted his head slightly, almost resembling a marionette on a slack string, the hint of a smile touching his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. He ran a finger along the rim of his teacup, the motion delicate and deliberate as he pondered Barton’s final query.

“Hmm… can you?” Gray eyes blinked slowly, the lids heavy and sluggish, further dragged down by fatigue. The question lingered in the air, softly innocuous. He glanced over at the tarot cards Jack left behind on the desk—arranged in a rough, careless spread, but somehow feeling deliberate, as though the cards had fallen exactly where they were meant to. The edges were worn, curling slightly; the images esoteric, half-familiar symbols. Stars, sun, moon, cups and swords, animals and human figures rendered in faded colors.

He paused, gaze narrowing, subtly curious despite the exhaustion that weighed down his expression. For a moment, his hand tightened around his teacup; twitched like he might reach out and touch them, as if by brushing the surface he could glean some hidden answer buried beneath the painted ink.

‘Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.’

His grip on the blanket slipped momentarily, fumbling at the worn edge before he reached for his collar instead. He dug beneath the charcoal fabric of his T-shirt, searching with a practiced motion until his fingers found the tarnished silver chain again. He drew it out slowly, the weight of it comforting against his skin as he absently ran his thumb over his and Sylvie’s rings, threaded side by side on the links.

The metal was dull, no longer shining with the luster it once had, but it carried a certain softness now, smoothed by years of worry. His eyes dropped for a second before he let the chain slip back beneath his shirt. “By all means, if it tickles your fancy…” Jervis gave a short, rough half-shrug, the motion stunted as though his shoulder couldn’t quite decide whether to follow through.

[genghisthebrain]

that feeling when you find something you thought was lost forever >>>>>

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[usercelestial]

okay this means nothing to anyone but every time i see an anti bucktommy girlie have a horrible take i have to take a step back and realize how genuinely small they feel. like imagine throwing a fit, drawing pictures of a person as a lizard, creating blogs and posts about how much you want to kill him all over a fictional relationship that may not even last the entire duration of a show about firefighters. like permanently altering relationships and rejecting friendships over things like this. like they have such a cesspit inside themselves, they are deeply unhappy with being online in these spaces, they are tormenting themselves over something that doesn't matter and i remember how much i can't let myself fall into that like oh my god please never let me be that kind of person

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[gideonisms]

burnout is supposed to end at some point, I have read this. However, how do you know when it has ended and you should gradually force yourself through more activities to get used to living a life again, and when doing that will send you Directly back to an even worse ring of hell. Is there like a guidebook or

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[darnell-la]

I NEED A SMUT ONE SHOT OF THIS LOGAN I CANT FIND ANY

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗘

pairing: mob boss! Wolverine x mutant!reader

summary: After getting mutant powers, Wade and y/n thought they could save the city from gangsters to be recruited as an avenger. They soon find out that the boss of all the gangsters in the city is a variant who slipped his way into their universe. A new Wolverine, but the worst of them all.

warnings: blood, possessive, animalistic, neck biting, marking, tasting, smut, etc.

note: Logan can't ignore a woman who's just like him.

please message and request us for more of this variant!

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“How about we shut the fuck up so we can make it out of here alive, hm?” Y/n asked Wade who kept whispering over to her that he swore he knew the man sitting in the chair.

“How would you possibly know a mob boss Wade?” She annoyingly asked, thinking he was joking as usual, but after she turned to look at Wade, she noticed how serious he was.

“That’s the fuckin’ Wolverine,” Wade gasped, noticing the man’s muscles and body structure as well as his hair that stayed up perfectly. Wade was a fanboy and knew from the comics, this had to be a variant of him.

“C’mon, y/n! We’ve had too much shit happen for you to not at least think. Look at him! The man looks exactly like him!” Wade said, as y/n shook her head. Sometimes she regretted teaming up with Wade. This was one of the times.

“God fuckin’ damn, do I have to prove myself every time I say something!?” Wade said before dropping down to the floor and kicking up into the man’s face.

As the man holding Y/n loosened his grip from the unexpected fight with Wade, y/n turned around, elbowing the man in his face, causing him to knock out next to the other man.

“Mister Howlett, I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you-“ Wade said as he walked towards the man who was still facing the pool table. Before Wade could finish his sentence, the man brought out his claws and stabbed Wade in his face.

Y/n gasped loudly as the man pulled back and Wade fell to the ground, groaning in minimal pain.

Y/n charged at the man, hoping he’d stay faced forward so she could end him, but he got up and grabbed Y/n. All in a swift motion, the man turned her around and slammed her on the table, one hand around her neck as the other brought out his claws and strapped her in the gut.

Y/n yelled, feeling the sharp pain, but it quickly went away. Y/n breathed heavily as she looked up, about to throw a punch, but she froze.

“Holy shit,” she said, seeing rare eyes looking down at her. “Told you!” Wade jumped up onto his feet before a few bodyguards pulled him back.

“H-How?” She asked as the man dug deeper into her stomach with a head tilt. The last time he checked, he was the only one to regenerate. How come a man in a red onesie and a pretty young lady he’s never seen before, can do the same as him.

“Take the man to the basement, and her — Get her cleaned and dressed to my liking,”

Y/n looked at the man, confused as well as Wade. “Hey, wait! We need to talk!” Wade yelled as the men dragged him away. “Don’t worry — We will,” Logan said as he removed his claws from y/n, eyes still burned into her.

Y/n stayed still, looking up at the man she knew was dangerous. He looked dangerously and anyone who knew who Wolverine was, would know he was.

“Fascinating,” the man said as he lifted y/n’s tight shirt up, grazing across her wound that healed in seconds. Logan quickly stepped back and snapped his fingers.

Y/n leaned up, getting ready to fight anyone that came near, but she failed as four men grabbed her. Y/n yelped after a sharp pain stuck in her neck. Before she could say anything, she fell out.

Y/m had woken up thirty minutes ago, cleaned, and dressed in some skin-tight silky dress. She had no idea what was going ok and why she had red bottom heels on.

She stayed seated on the bed in the huge room she was locked in before the door finally opened. “Said, I can handle her, alright? Stop fuckin’ buggin’ me, Bub,” Logan said before shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

“Where’s Wade?” Y/n asked after seeing blood stains on the man’s white suit. “Being held,” he replied as he made his way over to the bed she was on. The young lady crawled back onto the bed until her head hit the headboard.

“Let us go, and we’ll let you love — For now,” she added, making the man chuckle. “You can’t handle me just because you can regenerate, Bub,” Logan said, now standing on the bed.

“Your little partner told me what you were up to. You thought you could kill me? Serious, y/n?“ the man said, making her heart drop. He knew her name. Fuckin’ Wade…

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. You’ve got me all wrong,” the man said as he reached out to her. The girl flinched, not knowing what he was going to do until his hand softly touched her skin.

“No one knows what I do, so if I tell you this, you’ll have to promise to keep that pretty mouth closed,” he said, taking a look at her lips.

“D-Depends,” she said as his fingers trailed around her leg. “I had been demoted from these bastards wearing helmets. They tried stickin’ me with something, but I took care of it,” Y/n knew what he meant by that.

“Took one of their devices, and got here. Same world but different. Wanna know how?” He asked, hands close to the bottom of her mid-thigh dress. “Why?” She asked low.

“Because pretty girls like you back at home don’t come into my space trying to kill me,” he said, slightly scarring the girl. What did she get herself into?

“But don’t worry, Bub. You thought I was one of them, so I’ll let it slide. I’m not a drug dealer, I’m not a gun dealer, and I don’t kill people unless they demand shit. Usually, they’re bad,”

“Wade isn’t bad, and you stabbed the man,” Y/n said, making the man chuckle. “He was in my face and broke into my home. You gotta understand me on that, princess,” he said, now tracing his hands up her clothed thigh.

“Good, so, now that we’re at some kind of understanding, is like to offer you what I offered your partner,”

“Work with me to keep this place from falling apart. In my last world, I was the bad guy. I was all the things I just told you I’m not. I’ve changed, and I need more people like me to help,”

Y/n was confused at the sudden change in the man. At first, he seemed like he was going to murder her and Wade in the worst way possible, but now, he’s asking for help.

“And if you don’t wanna get your pretty hands dirty, you can just be by my side, lookin’ just like that,” he said, slowly hovering over the girl who didn’t think of pushing him off.

“Hey, your friend’s fine. This isn’t his blood. I know it doesn’t make it better, but just know, the stranger deserved it — Trust me, princess,”

Y/n didn’t know what came over her, but she believed him. Maybe he isn’t bad, and he’s just disguising himself like this to move around the safe.

“You trust me, baby?” He asked as his free hand cupped her chin. “C’mon, Bub — Talk to me,” Logan said as he leaned towards her, lips inches from her. He knew that if she didn’t want him on her, she would’ve done something about it.

“I don’t even know you,” Y/n said, feeling her stomach tingle. How is he doing this to her? “Then let me introduce myself,” the man said before softly attacking her lips, instantly forcing his tongue in her mouth.

Y/n moaned low in between their kiss, hating herself for letting a stranger touch her in any kind of way, but it was hard to push him away. The man was intimidating.

“You don’t understand how good it feels to know there’s someone like me. Especially when they look like you and taste so good,”

Logan hikes the younger lady's dress up until he could fully grab her ass, squeezing until she earned a loud whine. “Soundin’ pretty, Bub,”

Y/n wanted to respond, but the feeling of the man’s teeth softly biting down on her neck stopped her.

Y/n’s hands flew to his shoulders to grip down on as she let out a low whine. The man groaned in her ear before he continued moving his hands down her body.

“Your little friend told me, you and I would get along. He wasn’t wrong, Bub,” the man said as he tugged on his dress pants until his cock fell out, rubbing against y/n’s thigh.

“What did that bastard tell you?” Y/n asked, trying to control her whine as the man kept nibbling on her neck. He was hungry for the young lady and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Said you’re a hard ass just like me. Can’t listen, do what you want, cuss like a sailor, and need a man to match your energy,”

“Said you’d scare anyone off, but wouldn’t be able to scare me. Seems like you need me as much as I need you,”

Logan pulled Y/n’s panties to the side so he could push at her entrance. “Augh, shit,” the man grunted, feeling the woman grip him instantly.

Y/n’s legs wrapped around the man, tightening to pull him into her so his cock could fill her fast. “Fuck, y/n,” the man was shocked at how much she wanted this too.

“Alright, Bub, I got some rules for ya,” the man said as he leaned up, cock still in her, stroking slowly. “I don’t want you treatin’ no one with respect. You walk around how I dress you, and make it know you’re with me,”

Y/n traced her hands all over the man’s upper body, even his arms as she listened with lustful eyes.

“Gonna need you to stay close to me. Needa keep safe and on my lap, mhkay? Needa keeps my hands on you,” the animal had slipped from Logan. He’d never felt like this before, but the need to claim her all around was no question after he felt her walls clamp onto him.

“All fuckin’ mine, and I know I said Ian a bad guy, but if someone pisses you off or makes you emotional in any kind of way — I swear to god, I’ll separate their head from their body,”

Logan had leaned close to Y/n’s face, allowing her to grab his cheeks and rub at them.

“Need my girl happy. Need her to look good every second of the day. I know you regenerate, but you need me, baby. You need me to protect you from whatever’s out there,”

“Please take care of me,” y/n said, knowing he meant every word he said. He was claiming her now and will claim her any other chance he can.

After she came into his mansion, acting recklessly, he knew he had to keep her in check and close. There are not many people like them, and no one deserves them. No one deserves her. Only he deserves her, and no one can tell him otherwise.

[emmyrosee]

Keiji is absolutely nothing if not an attentive, knowing husband.

He’s good, he’s good at the whole marriage thing, knowing what makes you tic and what makes you purr, your anniversaries and outings and just being an absolute maniac when it comes to knowing all about you.

So imagine your complete, your total, your absolute horrific discovery to find out that today, he’s not home.

There’s no flowers, no note, no chaotic breakfast that Mei insisted on making you with Keiji- she claims today is her favorite holiday- and there’s nothing.

Not one of those things, on this birthday of yours.

To be honest, you don’t really mind, he’s one for… however many years you’ve known him, he was bound to forget it at some point (you certainly know you’ve had a few close calls), it just feels strange to have a birthday just with you and not your loving husband or eager daughter.

You stretch, yawn and slowly get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen to prepare for your day off, eager to spend some time alone and not have to worry about anything until you pick up your four year old.

Who is just as surprised as you at Keiji’s forgetting. Who takes a vendetta against Keiji for forgetting.

“You mean daddy didn’t take care of you today?” She says sadly. “That’s not nice of him…”

You giggle, “it’s okay, it’s just one day, yeah?”

“But!” She whines. “I made you a card! ‘Nd we should have a cake! And a birffday party!”

You shrug as you continue to strap her in, “well, sometimes, things don’t exactly pan out like we’d expect them to. And that’s okay! Besides,” you take out your credit card and flash it to Mei, “now we can have a girls day, yeah? Brag to daddy all about it.”

She beams up at you, and you finish buckling her into her seat.

Nails have been painted, delicious pastries for dessert have been picked, a cake to be baked and decorated has been prettied up, and now, all you can do is wait for Keiji to come home and witness all the fun he’d missed today.

Sure enough, 15:34 rolls around, and Keiji comes through the door, sleepy smile on his face and jacket shrugging off of his shoulders. “Hey, my girls.”

“Hey,” you hum, making your way over to him. You toss your arms around his neck and pucker your lips out for a kiss, which he tenderly returns. “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” he says with a small whine. “So glad to be home with the two loves of my life.” He smiles and kisses you again, only to then make eye contact with his daughter, who eyes him in a scold. He crouches down and reaches out to pinch her cheeks, only for her to dodge him slightly.

“And how’s my favorite little-“

“Hmph!”

Immediately, Keiji is cut off by the sound of your four year old’s disapproval, and he watches with a displeased furrow as she stomps her foot with crossed arms and turns away from him. His jaw is slacked, at the mercy of Mei and your attempts to not cackle out loud.

His eyes, filled with incredulous confusion flick back up to you in search for your assistance in correcting her attitude, but you say nothing. Instead, you place your hands on your hips and look down your nose at him.

He straightened his back and took a deep inhale for patience, “excuse me?”

“I said:” once again, Mei stomps her foot and crosses her arms tighter over her tiny chest, “hmph!”

“Have i upset you, Mei?” He asks, crouching lower to try and get her to open up to him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“You should know,” she snips.

God she’s so cute, you could just bite her.

Keiji, right now however, may disagree with that sentiment.

“I don’t think I like this attitude, little miss-“

“Not my fault you didn’t wish mommy happy birffday today!” Mei pouts, and instantly, Keiji’s brows shoot up, from anger to surprise. When he turns to look at you in confirmation, your expression turns from one of amusement, to faux anger to match Mei’s. His gaze softens, and he reaches his hands out to you for your affection.

“R…Really?”

“Really really,” you confirm. “I was super surprised our four year old and Koutarou remembered before you did.”

All the color drains from his face, and for a moment your expression softens as he looks like he’s about to faint right in front of you. “Kou…Koutarou remembered?”

“Honestly all of the Jackals did- Kiyoomi even sent me a card that’s due to come.” The detail, all though a little unnecessary, again makes him deflate, and even if your intentions are cruel, he looks so cute trying to grovel for forgiveness.

“Baby… my love… I’m so, so sorry-“

“You should be,” you huff, crossing your arms dramatically. “It’s a good thing I had Mei to keep me company all day, apparently she’s the only Akaashi who loves me.”

“Yeah!” Mei’s voice echos behind Keiji. It makes him snort and drop his head against your shoulder, palms smoothing up your hips and sides in an attempt to be affectionate, though the action only has you melting into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he hums from your neck, peppering soft kisses along the length. Your breath hitches and your own hands come up to rest on his own shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, giggling softly when he tenses up, then looking up it you in betrayal. “I want ramen. I want ice cream and chips, and I want to watch classic Disney movies as a family, and I want to do those cute panda face masks Mei got us for our anniversary with Koutarou.”

“Okay… okay I can do that; what kind of chips?”

“All of them.”

“You got it.” With that, Keiji kisses your cheek and quickly turns on his heal to head back out to the corner store to stock up on everything you asked for.

“Mommy?” Mei asks, tugging your pant leg.

“What baby?”

“Are you mad at daddy?”

You smile and ruffle her hair, bending down to pick her up and help you set up the rest of your birthday wishes.

“Couldn’t be mad at daddy even if I wanted to be.”

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: fluffiest fluff edition

I've just been CONSUMING so many jjk fanfics... here are the softest fluffiest fic recommendations since I think we all need it right now. This list is in no particular order – there's so many talented writers out there! These ones just made me MELT extra hard. Mostly no smut, I just needed to be held.

gojo satoru

☆ only you by Kaiseriin [A03: mini series] [status: unknown] [Cursed speech!reader] Other than Gojo, not many people understand the sign language you use to communicate as a cursed speech user. When some students from Kyoto arrive, one tries to learn so he can get closer to you.

☆ summer skies, winter lies by miyaspudding [A03: long fic!][status: ongoing]

"how cruel was fate? how much had he sinned in his past life, for the woman he loved to belong to his best friend? how little did god love him?"

in which gojo satoru learns that emotions are not weaknesses but consolations; and geto suguru realizes that he's always been a little too late for everything. because the furthest distance is an inch away, and the furthest thing from truth is "just friends".

☆best of luck. by reinerispretty [A03: one shot! part of a mini series] [status: unknown] In which Gojo Satoru shows up unannounced, twice.

☆Ah, you were both equally idiotic by Hiroka [A03: mini series] [status: unknown]

4 times others realized something was going on between Gojo and you, and 0 times you both realized it.

[Oneshots from the Old Beats Cinematic Universe]

☆ For A God, Shopping Is a New Adventure by Bun_sun [AO3] [status: on going!] [Baker!reader]

“Would you like anything else?” “Actually, yeah.” He flashes you a grin that only promises trouble, pushing his sunglasses down with a way too exaggerated flirty expression. “Can I get your number too?” “Haha, really funny Gojo. Now, I have more clients so...” But he's already getting his phone out, as if he hasn't listened to a single word you've said. “...Oh, you're for real.” ~ ~ ~ ~ Reader owns a small cafe with their own baked goods. Gojo comes in one day, and absolutely falls in love with their pastries (and with them).

☆ I Want to Kiss You / キスしたい by arminsumi [A03][status: unknown]

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

You've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. There's seems to be romantic tension between you and Suguru, too.

geto suguru

it's so hard to find suguru fics without him being used as a plot device for gojo

☆ gentle glow / deep thought by waffiez [AO3: one shot] [status: completed] "I thought about you, you know." Despite the softness of his voice, it cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere profoundly and made your heart skip a beat. "Is that so?" "It is." ☆☆☆ in which you awake to your best friend suguru asleep at the edge of your bed, having returned from a lengthy mission and only really wanting to see you.

☆ unnamed drabble by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: drabble] [status: completed]

comfy fluff w sleepy needy sugu <33)

☆ Wash It Away by @shadowsandshapes [A03/tumblr: drabble][status: completed]

Sometimes you forget Geto is just a guy. But then he shows a sense of vulnerability that surprises you. After a particularly emotionally draining battle, you run him a warm bath and take care of his aches. ☆ Wisteria and Ciabatta by @hayakawalove [A03/tumblr: mini fic!][status: completed, chapter 2 has smut!]

Traveling merchant Suguru has led a relatively tame life thus far. Growing his flowers, baking his bread. One day, when he ventures out further than normal he comes across something more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. You. ☆ the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: long oneshot!] [status: completed]

bonus!

☆ Digest Your Feelings (DYF) – First Years! by @whalesforhands [A03/tumblr: part of a longer series of fics] [status: completed] new classmates, new life, new friends(?). a look into the life of the dyf au characters in their first year.

[xo100]

hi can i have a request a story about life where lando and his ex finally get back together again 🥹

Unfinished business- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1581

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Lando Norris didn’t mean to fall in love with her. Not really. It just happened somewhere between late-night calls from different parts of the world and the quiet mornings they shared over coffee, bleary-eyed and content. For two years, they had built something beautiful. Something fragile. And like many fragile things, it shattered.

It had been a year since they parted ways. A quiet, mutual decision born from exhaustion, distance, and the demands of their individual lives. She had her career, a demanding one that required its own brand of discipline and attention. And Lando, of course, was always on the move, his life dictated by the calendar of Formula 1. It wasn't anyone's fault. There was no dramatic fight, no harsh words. Just the aching realization that, for now, their lives didn’t fit together the way they once had.

So they let go. They hugged each other goodbye in her quiet London flat, the kind of hug that lingered a little too long, with an unspoken understanding that maybe this wasn’t forever, that maybe one day they would find their way back to each other.

A year had passed since that night.

-

She scrolled through her Instagram feed absentmindedly, stopping when she saw his latest post—a sun-drenched photo of Lando standing by his car, all wide smiles and windswept hair. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating, before double-tapping. The small heart icon appeared, a familiar pang settling in her chest. It had become a ritual at this point—liking his posts, reading his captions, sometimes even dropping a comment when she felt brave enough. And he did the same, always. As if this silent conversation on social media was their only connection left.

She never stopped missing him. Some days it was just a quiet hum in the background of her life, a dull ache that she had grown used to. Other days, it hit her like a wave, out of nowhere, leaving her breathless and wondering how she had ever let him go.

On the other side of the world, Lando felt the same. He never admitted it out loud, not even to his closest friends, but she was never far from his thoughts. He found himself checking his phone too often, waiting for those tiny signs that she was still there, still watching, still caring. Every time her name appeared in his notifications—whether it was a simple like or a playful comment—his heart gave a small, traitorous leap.

They weren’t together anymore, but they were never really apart.

-

The first time they saw each other again after the breakup, it was at a race. Lando had known she might be there, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment their eyes met across the paddock. For a split second, the world around him seemed to blur, everything but her fading away. She looked the same but different—more poised, more confident, but with that same light in her eyes that had always drawn him in.

Her heart stuttered when she saw him, the familiar ache resurfacing. God, he looked good. The year had been kind to him. His hair was longer, his smile somehow brighter. But there was something else, something in the way his eyes softened when they landed on her.

They didn’t approach each other right away. Both too unsure of what to say, too aware of the unresolved feelings still hanging between them like a weight neither could lift. But eventually, they found themselves standing side by side, in the way that used to be so natural. And for a moment, it almost felt like old times.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

“Hey,” she replied, her heart racing.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy. Heavy with everything unsaid, everything they had tried to bury over the past year.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, though the question felt painfully inadequate.

“Good. Busy, you know… work and everything,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit he remembered all too well.

“Yeah… same.” He gave a small nod, eyes searching her face for something—anything—that would tell him if she had moved on. If she had forgotten him.

But she hadn’t. And neither had he.

-

The weeks after that encounter were… confusing, to say the least. They started texting again, slowly at first. Just little things—a funny meme, a quick ‘good luck’ before his races, or a random thought that reminded her of him. But it quickly became more than that. The conversations stretched longer, the topics more personal. They talked about the things they hadn’t talked about during their relationship—how hard it had been to let go, how much they missed each other, how they hadn’t really stopped caring.

One night, after a long conversation, Lando found himself staring at his phone long after the screen had gone dark. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending that he was okay without her. He had tried. God, he had tried. But no matter how many races he won, no matter how many new cities he visited, there was always this empty space where she used to be.

And she felt it too. Every time she saw his name light up her phone, her heart leapt. Every time she saw a post of his, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and just say it—to admit that she still loved him.

The breaking point came on a rainy night in London, when the loneliness felt unbearable. She was scrolling through her messages with him, re-reading old texts from when they were still together. Before she could overthink it, she sent a message.

I miss you.

-

Lando’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, the soft glow cutting through the darkness of his hotel room. He reached for it, half-asleep, but when he saw her name, he was suddenly wide awake. He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, his heart racing.

He had missed her too. Every single day.

Before he could second-guess himself, he typed a response.

I miss you too.

The three little dots that indicated she was typing appeared, then disappeared, and then appeared again. Finally, another message came through.

Can we talk? In person?

His heart skipped a beat.

Yes. When?

-

They met in a small café, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world. It was quiet, intimate, the kind of place where people went to have real conversations. The kind of place where they had once spent hours together, laughing and talking about nothing and everything.

When she walked in, Lando felt like the air had been knocked out of him. She looked nervous, just like he felt. But there was something else in her eyes too—hope.

They sat down, and for a few moments, neither of them spoke. It was like they were both afraid to say the wrong thing, to shatter the delicate balance they had found themselves in.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted with a small laugh, breaking the tension.

Lando smiled softly, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his coffee cup. “I’ve been trying to figure that out too.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. It was just… heavy. With everything they had left unsaid over the past year. Finally, Lando looked up, his voice quiet but steady.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he said, his words hanging in the air between them. “I tried to move on, I really did. But no matter what, it always came back to you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “I haven’t been able to move on either,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought maybe it was just me, that maybe I was holding onto something that was already gone.”

“It’s not gone,” Lando said firmly, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “It never was.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, holding each other’s gaze, holding each other’s hands, letting the weight of their feelings settle between them.

“I still love you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb gently brushing against her skin. “I never stopped.”

-

The decision to get back together wasn’t made in that moment. They knew it wouldn’t be that simple. There were still challenges to face, still things they needed to figure out. But what they both knew for sure was that they couldn’t keep pretending anymore. They couldn’t keep acting like they were better off apart, because they weren’t. Not really.

The rest of that night was spent talking, laughing, and crying. They laid everything out on the table—the fears, the regrets, the hopes for the future. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and it was honest.

When they finally left the café, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights. Lando walked her to her car, his hand never leaving hers. And when they reached it, he hesitated for a moment before pulling her into his arms.

“I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured against her hair.

She smiled, burying her face in his chest. “Good. Because I don’t want to go.”

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[wishful-sinful-9]

YOU WANT IT DARKER

Logan Howlett x Reader

MASTERLIST

cw: stalkerish!logan, kidnapping, kinda dubcon, smut, piv, oral (f receiving), biting, hair pulling, body worship, overstimulation, just feral sex, both parties are a little unhinged, reader has no sense of survival instinct bless her

halloween special (better late than never) 🐺

Was this karma? Had you been some sort of puppy-kicking throat-slashing cold-hearted bitch in a past life? Are you being bit in the ass for it? Or had the universe just singled you out at some point to be an object of constant torment?

You'd thought a small town in the mountains was just what you needed: peace and quiet, beautiful landscapes, charming locals. The reality was freezing temperatures as early as September, and elderly neighbours that are just as frosty to the strange young newcomer. Two months in, you could no longer take the loneliness - life became a little brighter when you adopted your fiercely loyal, and almost terrifyingly giant, doberman you named (aptly, in your opinion) Baby.

And then you left the Goddamn back gate open.

Miles of forest stretch up the mountainside behind your house. You've been trudging through the dense woods for hours, voice hoarse from calling for your dear Baby. A whisper in the back of your mind tells you it's a lost cause; he must have gotten too far to find his way back, and God knows the predators lurking in these shadows willing to attack him. These shadows that are getting deeper with each passing minute.

A shiver runs through you, in spite of your thick scarf and fur-lined coat. You scan the surrounding trees as you realise that it's getting harder to see past them.

That's when you halt abruptly.

You have no idea where you are.

-

Right and wrong blurs into eachother sometimes for Logan. He's been alone for so long, and his instincts are so loud, he can't fight these strange animal tendencies that claw into him every so often.

And you, well you didn't help him at all.

Why the fuck would a pretty young woman like you be doing living round here? Walking around his forest every damn day, with that hound that you love so deeply, even though it could easily wrench its lead from your grip or bite your arm clean off with one snap of its wolfish jaws. Of course, he knows it would never do such a thing - it loves you like all dogs love their owners, unconditionally and obsessively and devotedly. It loves you like how he'd love you.

Picking a spot in the shadows and watching you pass by was one thing. Beginning to follow you on your route, all the way back to your home though - his conscience was beginning to blink its red warning lights.

Yet every time he indulges in his guilty pleasures, those lights fade a little more.

He doesn't notice they've gone completely black when he sees you presently, stood shivering in the depths of the forest. Lost.

Your dog blinks up at him, eyes bright and tongue lolling. Excited to introduce you to his new friend.

-

The darkness of the encroaching night, the cruel icy wind, and the severity of your situation is all forgotten when your blessed Baby appears like an angel from the shadows.

“Baby! Oh, my God, Baby,” you sob, kneeling as he runs to you with a furiously wagging tail. “Where have you been, boy? Where the hell have you been?”

You unwind the leash from where you'd knotted it and clipped it to your belt loop and reach for Baby's collar. He twists, not with any fear or violence, out of your grip in an instant. You frown. He hasn't done that before.

He trots over to where he had appeared from, glancing back and stopping, encouraging you to follow.

You step forward, “What are you..”

He returns to shepherd you to his desired direction. You do so, praying that once he's successfully shown you whatever impressive stick or pinecone it is that you can finally go home.

You trudge after your dog for a few more minutes before deciding you've had enough. “C'mon, pup, let's go home. Aren't you hungry? Eh, boy? Want some- shit!”

Baby sprints off suddenly, lightning-fast.

Your feet move before you can think. You're far too exhausted for this chase, but you are not going to lose him again. You shout after him as you sprint through the darkness.

You break through the trees and find yourself skidding to a stop - in front of you, there is a black iron gate.

Beyond it, a gravel drive leads to a shadowed, decrepit manor house, lit only by the full moon above. You don't have time to wonder why there was ever a house built this deep into the wilderness, because Baby's running straight to the open door.

-

He pets the dog idly, knowing you'll soon follow. It licks his palm.

The scent of roses, your perfume, strengthens as he hears the stumbling of your hiking boots at the entrance. The dog barks, and you follow the sound.

You burst into the living room, eyes wild when they meet his own.

Got you.

-

His dark eyes are unsettlingly wide as he stares you down.

The man whose home you've just broken into is unlike any around here; considerably younger than the elderly folk in town, perhaps in his thirties. Beyond that, there's something abnormal about him: he towers over you, huge in stature and wide with muscle. And one of his terrifyingly huge hands is petting your dog.

“I am so, so sorry sir,” you stammer stupidly, taking a wobbly step back. “He just - ran off - he never does it I swear, I'll get out of your- Baby, Baby, c'mere.”

He doesn't move.

You tremble as you contemplate grabbing him by the collar. But you can't seem to bring yourself to move towards this man.

“Baby, please-”

The man says your name.

Your blood runs cold. You bring your gaze to his, slow with terror. Another step back.

You could cry when Baby finally moves away from him, only to be further horrified when you beloved protector only does so to get behind your legs and usher you towards the man. The strange man who somehow knows your name.

You lurch forward at a hard nudge of Baby's head against your calf - into his arms. Strong, large arms that wrap around you tightly. Shit. Oh shit.

You shriek, attempting to wriggle free, but the man holds you to him tighter. He removes one arm, keeping you there solidly still with the other, and curls his fingers into a fist.

And three knife-sharp metal claws unsheath from his knuckles.

Your fighting ceases immediately. He doesn't hold them to you in threat, merely displays them in warning: Don't. Even. Try.

They disappear back into his hand and he brings his lips to your ear.

“You ain't going nowhere, sweetheart.”

-

It would've been a nice room, once. A canopy bed in the centre, a velvet loveseat at the foot of it, and a large window stretching across the far wall. Only now, the canopy's sheer curtains are torn, the colour of the seat's fabric faded, and the window completely boarded up.

The only source of light is a lone candle on the dresser. You pace in its dim light, shaking like a leaf, gasping short, panicked breaths.

He'd picked you up as if you'd weighed nothing at all and deposited you in this room, locking it and ignoring how you banged and screamed and shouted at the door. It didn't take long before you'd exhausted yourself and resorted to desperately racking your brain for means of escape.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You sink to the floor with your head in your hands. Hiccupy sobs escape your lips, eyes sore from crying.

A gentle click of the door opening alerts you of his presence.

“I'm not gonna hurt you.”

As he lingers in the doorframe, even bigger from where you're crumpled on the floor, you find it hard to believe. Your breathing speeds up again.

In a stride, he's kneeling beside you. You jerk away with a cry as he tries to reach for your wrist.

His hand curls around your chin and brings your tear-stained, crazed face to his. The wildness in his eyes before was gone - there's a shocking earnestness in them now, as if he hadn't just used your only companion against you in luring you into his home.

“Deep breath in,” he murmurs.

What?

“Deep breath in, I said. Do it, girl.”

For some bizarre reason, you do it - drawing in a deep, shaky breath and holding it.

“Now out.”

You exhale.

“Again - in,” you do, “out.”

You can't shake the feeling that you're in some absurd dream as you repeat the process with your abducter until your breathing returns to normal.

He retracts his hand from your face and with a weak voice you whimper, “Who are you?”

“Logan.” He grunts.

“What do you want?”

He gazes at you for a long moment. When he responds, you detect a tremble in that baritone voice: “I've been alone for so. Damn. Long. Then you came along, into my woods, into my head, and now I'm losing it.”

His words send chills racing down your spine. Had he been watching you?

“It's like this instinct. This animalistic urge, that makes me want to keep you here - where I can keep you safe, keep you with me-”

“You're a mutant,” you rasp. He nods. “My parents always told me to stay away from... your people.”

“They aren't my people. I'm alone.” You flinch at the sharp edge to his tone.

He raises himself from the floor, looming over you again. You cower under his shadow.

“Well,” he grunts, “not anymore, I suppose.”

He locks the door behind him.

-

You don't know how many days have passed since Logan first took you.

It was only the day after that fateful night that he unlocked your room, under strict order to not leave the house. His only other kindness was to get some clothes for you from your house. You hadn't given him the keys.

Baby is your only comfort, as he curls up beside you at night for warmth. Even still, he seems to have developed some sort of bond with your captor, and is unwilling to be the guard dog you'd have assumed he would be in a situation such as this.

You've taken to slinking about in the shadows, rarely directly coming in contact with Logan; instead, you observe him.

His mutant abilities are not limited to the claws; from what you've gathered, he has some sort of heightened sense of smell and hearing. You know it would be foolish to try and escape because he'd sniff the nerves on you in an instant.

He feeds you mostly meat, which you pick at with little appetite.

It's those minor interactions, when he hands you your meal, that you ponder over throughout the long, cold days and nights. Had he lingered for longer to watch you eat? Did his fingers graze yours when he passed you the plate?

It soon came apparent to you, that this ominous, claw-bearing creature was no more than a man in isolation.

In a largely anti-mutant society, it's push everyone away, or be shunned and hurt. In this world, he's abnormal. Dangerous. A monster.

And you want to crawl into his skin and find what he is really: man or beast?

-

His ears prick at the shuffle of your feet. No matter how often he hears you move about, you never fail to excite his paranoia.

But you never do run, or lash out, or panic. You just remain in the darkness, watching.

In truth, he regrets doing this to you. It was the primal part of his brain eating the rational, and now you were constantly in his proximity, the animal had calmed itself and the human had settled in. Still, he could not bring himself to set you free. Not until he'd figured out how to get himself back to how he'd used to be.

Click.

He froze.

The door. You were at the door.

He set his beer bottle down hard on the table, a warning. He was there. He'd know if you were escaping.

The smell of fresh night air leaks into his nostrils, and he stalks over to the foyer.

You're halfway out the door - staring at him.

For a heartbeat, you keep his furrowed gaze, heart rabbiting in your chest. Then you bolt.

-

You barely make it to the gate before rough hands slam you backwards into his chest.

You don't struggle. You just pant in his hold.

A long, terrible moment of silence passes that makes you doubt your confidence in emerging from this situation unharmed. When he finally speaks, his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“What. Was. That.”

You squeak, “I wanted to see if you'd go after me.”

You're flung over his shoulder and marched straight back to the house.

He dumps you on the tattered armchair by the fireplace, and leans over you - gripping each arm of the chair to cage you in. His eyes are as dark as you've ever seen them.

“You have your answer,” he growls.

“Logan I-”

“Now I want to find out mine.”

You press yourself back into the chair. “Answer to what?”

“Why did that turn you on?”

Your mouth runs dry and your cheeks are ablaze. You shake your head furiously, refusing to meet his eye. “I don't know what.. Uhm..”

One hand is no longer on the chair, instead it's on your cheek. Forcing you to look at him.

Wordlessly, he drops his hand... and shoves it down your pants instead. It's then that it hits you: that heightened sense of smell of his can detect arousal too.

A thick finger runs through your folds, gathering the slick sticking to your panties.

“Logan-”

“You are turned on.”

He sounds almost a little incredulous, as he pulls out his hand and studies how your arousal shines in the milky moonlight, coating his fingertips.

You make a little noise of embarrassment, and it turns his attention back to you. Wide-eyed, flushed, lips slightly parted. And a switch flips.

He grasps the back of your head to meet him halfway as he crushes his lips against yours. Bruising, but for some reason, addicting.

You moan slightly, opening your mouth to encourage his tongue and it makes his mind blur.

He tears away after a minute, and, operating as if possessed, rips your pants open.

You gasp, but have no time to reconsider: your panties are torn clean off too, and a finger is curling deep inside you.

Your wails prompt him to try another, his thumb circling your clit, the pads of his fingers pressing against the spot that makes your eyes roll. You can barely gasp his name, so overwhelmed and lost in pleasure.

It's not enough. He needs to taste you.

You almost scream when his mouth replaces his thumb, sucking desperately on your clit. He laps at you with such animalistic intent, the haze in your mind lets through one paralysing thought: how does he fuck?

The pressure builds in a way you've never experienced before - so quick and heavy, like a tidal wave, and when you cum he almost ruins his pants along with you. The sheen of sweat over your face, your heaving chest, that sweet white release trickling down his palm. More.

Your hand flies into his hair as his fingers begin to move again and his mouth is somehow faster and needier than before.

“L-Logan I can't-”

He groans gutterally as he pulls away for a second to spread your juices over your throbbing flesh, already swollen. When he dives in again, you just grip his hair for dear life.

The next orgasm has your thighs clamping tightly around his head, but he simply prys them apart again. You tug at his hair and he finally breaks away to kiss you hard.

You taste yourself on his tongue.

He doesn't let up until you're both in desperate need of air, and you take the opportunity to strip off your top and bra. His hands, shaking you realise, come up to cup your tits gently, his eyes greedily savouring the sight.

“Beautiful..perfect..let me fuck you.” He gazes in your eyes with such desperation, you lean forward to cup his face and kiss his nose.

“Anything, anything for you, Logan.”

-

You don't give a damn about that rug burning against your back. Not when he's so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your throat.

“Sweet girl,” he sucks into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Take me so well, does it hurt?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, eyes welling with tears of overstimulation. “Just move. Fuck me, Logan-”

He lifts your knees, pressing the backs of your thighs to your chest, and slams into you over and over at an unrelenting pace. Your mouth hangs agape, crying for the pleasure. It's as if the beast in him has bled into your skin, making you want him closer, deeper, faster. You claw at his shoulders. He leans down to nip and nuzzle at your jaw and neck, but your lips only move to moan.

“I can feel you - so tight - cum for me, sweetheart,” he grunts out, “cum all over my cock.”

You do as he wishes with a scream of his name.

He watches the sticky mess where his dick meets your cunt grow with your latest release, and he wants even more.

You're too dumb to register how he hasn't cum yet, but is pulling out of you. You let him manhandle you with ease until you're on your front, cheek against the floor while Logan grips your hips to keep your ass up.

Like this, he can better watch it all drip out of you.

You let out a little whine, eyes fluttering shut as you're sure he just wants a final look. You jolt as you suddenly feel his tongue thrust into your hole and curl. “No more-”

You shiver at the obnoxious wet sounds of him licking up the mess between your thighs, pushing back against his face despite yourself. You breathe out a sigh of relief when he pulls away - then you feel the head of his cock notch against your entrance.

With the last of your deteriorating strength, you try your best to crawl away from his sloppy thrusts.

“I'm not done,” he growls, pulling you back onto his cock and pounding you harder. You give in, eyes rolling, back arching, front pressed to the floor once more.

“Give it to me.”

You can't.

“C'mon.”

He reaches round to rub your clit in mean circles.

“Let go.”

You cry, and clench so hard around him it feels as if your pussy is pulling him in.

You gush around him, and his hips stutter as he approaches his own release. You press back as you feel him try to slip out - “Inside me, Lo, fill m' up..”

With a shout, he cums deep inside you, only pulling out once completely milked dry. He groans at the sight of your twitching thighs, and the creamy mess leaking from your cunt. He pushes it back in before standing.

You're a sticky, panting, fucked-out thing when he gathers you in his arms, pressing his lips to your hairline.

“Can I keep you?” he grins down at you, the first time you've seen him smile. You beam and kiss his cheek.

“Keep me forever.”

a/n: this has not been well edited but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! I've had a bit of writers block but the first part of the knight!au and the bbf!peter oneshot is on its way, slowly lmao

[sanakimohara]

just wondering if there will be Hyunjin links as well, following the Chan, Minho and Changbin ones? 👀

Now that you mention it….dating Hyunjin has so many perks! … p*rn links!

explicit content ahead + master lists > OT8 list >

- You two have the cutest hobbies together! Everyday is something new for you when you’re with Hyunjin. He enjoys the thrill of trying new things and expanding his talents with you all the time!

- You get a first hand look at his skills in dancing coming to life. He teaches new things about your body, how it can move, and how every inch of you fits against every piece of him!

- You may or may not get an addiction to kissing him! Sometimes it’s all you can think about around him! His lips are just so perfect, so sweet, and feel so right when they’re pressed against yours. Hyunjin finds your random greediness for kisses adorable but he never lets you get away with just a quick peck. If you want them so bad he’s gonna give you the very best kind every time!

- You travel with him quite a bit. Going to new places and seeing new sights when he has the time. There’s nights and days you just cuddle up close to him in his hotel room, wanting nothing more than to just help him relax after a long day of photoshoots and social appearances. Even a muse of millions needs a little break sometimes.

- You get the opportunity to mark him up as much as you want! Hyunjin loves the nibbles and kisses you pepper across his skin, how small they are at first, but eventually darken and grow the more you bite at him. You don’t have to worry about covering them up either. He insists people see them in private and knows more than a few tips and tricks on how to cover them in public! So mark him up all you want.

- You’re admired by him in every way. Pictures, videos, sketches! Hyunjin has all sorts of depictions of you. He adores watching all the wholesome videos you two make together, admiring the faces you make, and the lovely little sounds he forces out of you! God, you’re just so pretty to him in every way!

- You get video calls from him often. Sometimes it’s just talk and help one another fall asleep better when he’s away. Other times he’s begging to hear you talk, help him get his mind off things with soft words. You’ve always got something new or neat to show him too and Hyunjin absolutely loves watching you through the screen.

- You’d never feel less than with him. Getting what you want with a simple pleading look or pout. Hyunjin spoils you often, persistent with his appreciation through the smallest gestures and sweetest words. You’re a little selfish with his love but he truly doesn’t mind!

- You’re his muse in every way he can think of. A living and breathing piece of art he can show off to anyone with pride.

MY INBOX IS CRYING RNNNN. I still have requests I haven’t answered since February?!?? 😭 send helppppp

I’m sorry I keep using Artemis’ songs but they’re so goooooooddd

[golden-ebony]

The Serving Suitor .⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ AU Pairing: servant!Logan Howlett/princess!Reader

♡ Word Count: 4.4k

♡ Rating: Mature (only bc of the discussion of sex)

♡ Warning/Tags: regency attitudes, suggestive language, but nothing explicit

♡ Summary: As a princess, you could almost have it all, especially if you wed. Almost. You could only find love with one of your servants, Logan.

♡ Note: this was just a cute thing I've vaguely been working on to avoid all my responsibilities of life (that's why I've posted two days in a row, i fear)

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow you will find a suitor after all these years. 

Word of your ball had spread throughout many kingdoms. Your father promised only the best for you. He promised music, food, and you for the suitors traveling far distances. Suitors had visited and promised to be in attendance tomorrow. Not a single one interested you; you were sure most of them weren’t even interested in you. Being titled and unmarried was uncommon for even men at a certain point; a proper heir would need to be born eventually. God forbid it was out of wedlock. 

Many came off snobbish and egotistical. They weren’t there for you; they were there to create a new heir to their throne. They had little interest in you; they had more interest in your birthing hips. Some came off as genuine and kind. Yet, you felt bored in their presence, longing to slip into conversation with another. You wanted more; you already had more. 

James Logan Howlett.

Only you called him Logan. He worked as a servant like his father and mother before him. He was one of the younger servants and aid; he was older but not much older than the suitors coming for your hand. He was always gruff around the edges yet respectful. He was by far one of the most hardworking of your servants. 

A number of years ago, it was your goal to break his serious demeanor, get him to laugh. You had only seen him smile a few times, yet the memories were imprinted among you. In order to capture more memories of that smile, you’d make snide remarks that only the two of you heard. He wouldn’t admonish you nor remind you of your place as a princess as most would. He’d just shoot you a knowing look or exhale a deep huff.

It took him a whole year before he made a snide remark back while at your eldest sister’s betrothal ball. After watching a gentleman miss every turn and take almost every opportunity to step on your feet during a waltz, you immediately retreated to a place against the wall. Not far from Logan’s earshot but to yourself, you grumbled how that’d probably have to be your last dance for the night.

Not missing a beat, Logan mentioned the man having the graces and footwork of an overgrown frog. 

It was a small victory then. Snide remarks turned into short conversations. Those turned into deeper conversations in your garden under the cover of night. When no one was looking, he treated you like a real person— like a friend, maybe more than a friend. You’d both spend long nights talking about your dreams and fears in the garden, always hoping you could steal a little more time.

But the night he kissed you was unforgettable. 

“Alright, but you’re not a princess,” Logan stated as you both laid in the grass, gazing at the stars. “What would you be?” He turned his head to meet your gaze.

You hummed looking into his hazel eyes. There was something about Logan tonight. Maybe it was his exposed arms or the sound of his voice when tired from the day. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you could feel your heart race. You almost forgot to answer the question. 

“Umm, probably a baker.” Logan gruffly chuckled. You felt a little self-conscious by your own answer now. 

“What? A life as a baker so…nice and quaint,” you smiled. “Your mother would make the best bread, and if she could have taught me how she did it, I’d have the bakery in the countryside.”

“No, no, I agree. When my mother would bake, she’d make me help sometimes.  My father would do a tasting. Something about the kneading was always relaxing,” he muttered. “Maybe once you’ve grown wearisome of being a royal, we can just open a bakery in town.”

We. The sentiment of doing it together made your pulse pick up.

“Why don’t you do it then?”

“What? Build and open a bakery?” Your nod was met with Logan’s furrowed brows. “I don’t know. This work—this castle—it’s all I’ve ever known.. I was trained to do this since I was a kid. To leave would be…I mean, my mother left recipe cards for bread, cakes, cookies, but—”

You sat up and nodded, “I think it'd be worth it to be brave. As someone who doesn’t get many choices in life—I didn’t even get to decide on my outfit for today or the meals I ate—there’s something about the freedom to be brave. And the number of building projects you’ve completed for my family, I know the shop would be beautiful.”

Logan sat up too and nodded. He bit his lip and muttered under his breath, “Be brave.” You felt Logan’s hand on top of yours.

There went your heart again. You looked down at his worn hand on top of your softer one and then back at Logan. His features softened before his other hand moved to your cheek. 

You swallowed with anticipation, hoping to push down your nerves, “Logan…what are you doing?”

He didn’t respond. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. You felt your breath hitch in your throat out of surprise, but you soon reciprocated. You had dreamed of this for years ever since you first saw him all those years ago. Your lips formed together perfectly and moved in perfect rhythm. Logan’s hand caressed your cheek, bringing you in closer. You instinctively moved your hand to his bicep, feeling every ridge and groove. In this moment, you wanted him to devour you. 

Logan wanted the same. There had been other women Logan had been with—substitutions really—and with God as his witness, you were the sweetest one. You were the only one that he wanted.

He pulled away from you with his eyes still on yours. Your stare was dazed when Logan’s eyes met yours again. “You said to be brave. And I know your the princess and I’m jus—“

A small smile creeped your lips, “Hey, Lo?” The sound of your sweet yet low voice silenced him immediately. He could mutter a word, only nodded. You tugged at his shirt, lining your finger against what you could already feel as a strong chest, “I think you should be brave again.”

That was two years ago. It was your first kiss. It was the first time you felt truly special in the eyes of any man. It wasn’t the last either. Logan made sure of that.

After that day, beyond your royal life, your life became filled with stolen kisses, long nights, letters under your pillow. It wasn’t something you expected from the gruff man that you saw everyday. 

But when word of your ball started to spread, you could see Logan become distant. Conversations were short in public, the letters stopped, he stopped visiting at night, and there was even talk about him joining the military. 

You were worried. Your mind had been racing for a number of nights. You didn’t want to believe that Logan was abandoning you. On the other hand, neither of you were native to your present situation. The thought of him leaving tore your heart apart. Your memories with him put the pieces back together again. The cycle found you every night.

Maybe you could see tonight, but his quarters were outside the grounds. You couldn’t make it there without being seen. Maybe—

A small pebble knocked your window, catching you from your thoughts.

His usual sign.

You quietly moved off your bed to open the window.

“Logan?” Your voice was uncertain as you scanned. Once you saw the form that you recognized to be Logan’s, you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. “I thought you’d never come back.”

Logan appeared to be slightly panicked as he looked around the garden. “I know tomorrow is...the day and I might not see you again” he sighed. “Can we talk?”

As he had done for the last two years, Logan scaled the outer wall and climbed through your window. He had on a cloth top that exposed his strong arms, and you could practically see his bulging thighs through his pants. You were just in a white nightgown as you were just preparing for bed, but the sight of him was almost enough to make your mouth dry. 

You were quick to pull him into a hug; the warmth of his body consumed you. Thinking he’d never get the chance to hold you like this, Logan pulled you in close. “I thought I’d never see you up here again,” you muttered into his chest. Logan could hear the hurt in your voice. It was amplified by the simple notion that he had pushed you away. 

“I know,” he muttered into the crook of your neck. You leaned back to look at him. His eyes obviously were panged with grief and regret. 

“Then why?” Your words ranged in his head like a thousand church bells. All this time, he knew why. He regretted the reasoning, he still knew.

“When I heard about your ball a while ago, everything felt like it was coming to a head,” he admitted as he took a seat across from you on an ottoman. You sat on your bed. “I don’t know what I expected to happen after the last two years, and I should have seen this coming. I shouldn’t have neglected you…I never wanted you to feel neglected.”

“Logan—”

“Sweetheart, we both know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. You’re going to find a prince, become the perfect queen one day, and receive everything you deserve. Things we both know I can’t—will never be able to—offer you. Like my parents who served yours, I serve you; that’s the way it is. We both know that,” Logan tried telling you. His eyes were sullen and he looked defeated. That’s what broke your heart.

Logan was right. He was right but he was also wrong about one thing. 

“Logan…” you placed your hands in his, rubbing your thumb across his, “My days with you, the mere minutes I got to spend with you everyday, was all I ever needed. You gave me everything I could possibly want. This place, these things,” you gestured to the room around you, “it’s not enough to make me happy; Logan, you were always enough.”

As much as it pained him, Logan kept his eyes on you. For all he knew, these could be his final chance to memorize the curve of your face, how your eyes gleamed when the light hit it just right, or recognizing attributes you considered imperfections that Logan simply couldn’t fathom why you thought of them so negatively. He didn’t want this moment to pass, no matter how painful it was.

You both sat there in silence for a bit, too scared to admit what this all meant. Logan was the first one to make movement, standing from the ottoman. You could tell that he was stressed. For a second, your heart fell when you thought he was going to leave. Your name graced his lips as he turned back to you, his hazel eyes glassed over.

“I love you,” Logan admitted. Your eyes widened at his confession. “I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you. When I wake up, I’m disappointed that you’re not by my side, but I find solace in the fact that you’ll grace me with your presence, maybe even give me the time of day after dark. Being with you, not even just intimately, just talking to you, is always the highlight of my day. I go to sleep, and I only dream of you—running away with you, watching you learn how to bake in that shop you always speak of,” he breathed in a single breath; you weren’t sure you caught it all, but every noise of the palace seemed to fall into the distance. “I’d never ask you to renounce your status as a princess, but I could let another day go by without letting you know.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. As the date of your ball began coming up, you could only dream about Logan, reliving the moments you had in the garden, especially Logan’s sweet words as his hands roamed your body, searching for new ways to make you gasp and smile. As of lately, you were having the same dreams. What if you ran away with Logan? What if he could put his hat in the race to be your suitor? Questions like these flood your head every night. 

You stood up too, slowly approaching Logan. He was hesitant when you placed your hand on his chest, hoping you weren’t kicking him out. Instead, you just wanted to feel him and his beating heart. He placed his hand over yours.

“Everyday, every single day, I wish to move to the countryside with you. Share a life with you. Have a few children, and build a life,” you whispered, smiling at the thought. The tears that brimmed your eyes were threatening to escape. “But I can’t abandon my country, Logan. As much as I want to be with you, I can’t and that tears me apart every waking moment of the day because I love you, James. I don’t want to marry anyone else because no man has ever cared about me the way that you do. It’s not fair,” you sobbed in his chest. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Logan couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around you, pulling you in closer. He kissed your forehead wishing he could change the trajectories of both of your lives. But this was the best he could do at the moment.

“Hey, hey,” he muttered, lifting your chin to meet your tear-stained face, “you’re never gonna lose me, sweetheart.”

Before another thought could cross your mind, you brought your lips to Logan’s for what may be the last time. You became fully enveloped in the kiss when Logan reciprocated it fully. What started as a gentle kiss became desperate in nature. You’ve never shared a kiss like this before. His strong hands spread across your back, sending chills down your spine. 

You tugged at the roots of his hair, receiving a moan from the servant. He moved from your lips down to your neck, careful not to leave any marks for your big day tomorrow. The gasp that left your lips was heavenly. Logan searched for it again with every kiss from your collarbone to your pulse. You couldn’t help but to pants as Logan’s lips and tongue danced across your neck.

“Please, Logan,” you quietly moaned out, “I…I want you to have me.” 

While you didn’t quite know what that exactly entailed, yet you knew the significance. Your mother had only vaguely explained it to you a few weeks ago. There were many moments where you felt rather needy between your legs when you were with or thought about Logan. You pieced that those two things were related in some way. You affirmed that it was for your husband—a man that you loved. At this point, those two criteria felt like they wouldn't encapsulate the same person.

Logan momentarily stopped and sighed in the crook of your neck. It was bad enough that he had ruined you time and time again already. This was something else completely. “I’m not…it’s not my place, sweetheart. As much as I would love to ravish your body until dawn, I’m not your husband, you’re not my wife; it’s not right.”

Logan wasn’t always big on traditions and doing things the right way. He complained a number of times to you about them. You’d figure that it wouldn’t be Logan’s first time; he had the opportunity to live a life outside of you. You vaguely heard how your brother spoke about women that…they weren’t necessarily courting yet frequently visited. It made you want to scream the way he became traditional all of the sudden.

“I know…” You felt your stomach grow into knots, trying to verbalize concepts you only recently began thinking about. “I know…you’ve been entangled with other women…” You couldn’t help but blush and feel native in the moment.

Logan huffed as you were being more brash than usual, “They weren’t ladies, and most certainly not princesses.”

“You’re right, but I don’t care anymore, Logan,” you told him, fingers lining his chest. “Not only isn’t there another man I want to be with but there isn’t a man who deserves the privilege besides you, my love.” Your hand caressed his scruffy face, praying for the answer you desperately wanted. “I love you.”

“Sweetheart,” You began lining his neck with soft kisses making Logan lose his train of thought. With your hands on his chest and lips on his neck, Logan wanted to cave, he desperately wanted to give in and have his way with you. “Dammit, you’re making this hard, love.”

“Then say yes.” Your hand went under Logan’s cloth shirt, feeling the ridges of his abdominal muscles. “Please just say yes.”

A pang of hurt hit Logan’s heart, stopping your hands from roaming his chest. “You’re not mine to have.” Logan could see the pain in your eyes and immediately felt awful. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you; that wasn’t his intention when he climbed through your window that night. “Maybe I should go. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened as you saw Logan begin to leave. You felt panic settle in. Logan was already in the window about to climb down.

“Logan!” you almost yelled but you were quick to hush your volume. He immediately turned back to you with his brow furrowed. His name came out of your mouth before you could even realize what you were saying. “Please don’t go,” you choked out, “Please.”

He wanted nothing more than to take you with him, show you exactly how well he could treat you.

“I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow.”

“It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, sir” you forced a smile before performing a small curtsey. 

“I’m sure, princess,” the duke retorted before kissing the back of your hand. “I hope to grace your presence again soon. ”

You nodded before the Duke of Goldigo went on his way. Internally, you gagged. The Duke of Goldigo was ignorant and a narcissist. Yet, he wasn’t the worst of the night, and that was saying a lot. 

Whenever you finished talking to a suitor, you would immediately look for Logan. Your eyes would quickly scan the room, hoping to still see him there serving. You missed him a few times but caught him talking and giving o'dourves to a few guests from time to time. You desperately wanted to talk to him, but you knew you would get wrapped up in conversation with him as you did on a daily basis in the garden. And you knew the both of you would get in trouble if you both weren’t on your jobs—your job being to wed. 

But maybe grabbing an o'dourves wouldn’t hurt, right? Of course, it would be Logan holding your favorite. It’s like he knew you could eventually bring yourself over. You began your trek over to Logan who was just across the ballroom, and damn, he looked amazing in that white button up.

You happily nodded at the guest as you walked past other guests. A couple of the suitors you talked to earlier smirked or winked at you, some vying for your attention, but you pretended as if you didn’t see them. As you neared him, Logan looked up and saw your eyes meet his. He gave you a soft smile.

“I didn’t know they would be serving bruschetta at this event,” you smiled as you grabbed a piece.

“Only the best for the princess,” Logan smiled, but you could  tell that it wasn’t fully heartfelt. You could imagine that he was still hurt after yesterday. You were still hurt too, but putting together a good appearance is something you were used to doing for these types of events. 

“How are you, Logan?” you muttered, attempting to keep your conversation low key.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “Honestly?” You nodded. “I wish I could take you out onto the floor and dance with you like a proper gentleman, actually vie for your hand…but I guess holding your favorite o'dourve will have to do. How about you?”

You slightly smiled and nodded, “Wishing I could be anything but a princess right now.” 

All you wanted was to take Logan’s hand and run out of the dance hall—show him how much you want to be with him. Logan wanted that too, and if he had the money and power the other men in this room held, he would have. He would’ve whisked you away, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you were alone.

“The fair and beautiful, princess,” another prince almost growled as he took your hand. You immediately felt uneasy; it was also obvious to Logan. Instead of giving the prince the face of disgust, you softly smiled. “Care for a dance?”

You looked back at Logan who looked like he was trying to keep his composure. You placed your appetizer back on his tray. “It would be my pleasure.”

He led you to the middle of the floor, but you couldn’t help but to look back at Logan as he went away to cater to the guests, his heart breaking in the process.

The evening was ending and many of the guests began their departures, even you had retired to your chambers. There were some suitors there, talking with your father. As Logan helped clean up the hall, he overheard conversation between the men and your father. He hated the way they talked about you. They didn’t care if you were happy or not. Even your father seemed to be neglecting your happiness. They pondered if you were submissive, had a good body to bear sons, and so on. 

They talked about you as if you were a piece of cattle at auction. In reality, you were everything to Logan. His entire world began and ended with you.

He’d had enough.

Logan left his section to clean before heading down the hallway. He attempted to maintain his composure as he passed by maids in the hallway. But he was making a beeline to your chambers. He could feel his adrenaline ramping up as he got closer to your room. His heart could practically beat out of his chest. He finally reached your door. He took a deep breath before putting hand on the handle.

Before he could turn the handle, he heard a brief huff and then a sob.

You were crying.

Logan didn’t even knock. He cracked the door open and saw your body leaned against the window,  your hands covering your face. You were already out of your ballgown and in a simple slip. He quickly slipped in before anyone saw. You didn’t hear the door close between the sounds of your sobs. He hated seeing you like this. He knew he’d do anything to make you feel better.

“Sweetheart?” Logan sighed from across the room. You heard him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn to him. He approached you from behind, wrapping your arms around you. “I’m here.”

You shook your head, “Logan…I can’t…” you hiccuped. He turned you around to see your face. Your eyes were puffy and red, but you were still a beautiful sight to him. “We can’t keep doing this, seeing each other. It only makes this harder.”

“I know, I know, so if you want, I won’t come to you like this anymore. I just—” Logan's voice drifted, yet he still appeared focused. He had firm hands on your hips while you laid your hands over his. “I know I said I couldn’t ask you to do this, and I know you love our country, but I need you, sweetheart. I can’t live knowing you’re married to some pompous rake who doesn’t even respect you as the woman you are.”

You took a deep breath as your eyes widened, “Logan, what are you—” Before you could even finish your sentence, he was taking a knee. “James…”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you. I’m asking for you to live a humble life—a life without the riches and spoils you no doubt deserve with a man who has only served you all his life. But I’ll be damned if a day goes by that you don’t feel loved, respected, and cared for. And I wanna spend the rest of my life making sure you feel that way.” Logan pulled out a necklace from his pocket and showed it to you. “This betrothal necklace belonged to my mother the day my father proposed. I was going to ask you last night, but you respect your duty, and I respect that. But after seeing and hearing how those men think of you, the thought of someone taking your hand—someone who does not see you the way I do—I have to at least ask.”

You didn’t even think you could produce more tears, but you felt more brimming. However, they were warm from hope, not hot from sadness.

“So, ask me, James, you whispered as you fell to your knees to meet his eyeline. “Please…”

Your full title fell from his mouth with an ease. Just sitting on the floor in your chambers out of the watchful eyes of others—it was the most comfortable you felt all night. You hung onto every word. “Will you do me the honors of living a humble life as my wife?”

“Yes, yes, Logan, yes.” Your words got stuck in your chest, but your confidence grew as you continued to speak. You quickly nodded and huffed, “Only if we can leave tonight.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” Logan wildly smiled as he wrapped the necklace around your neck. You pulled him into a kiss that was more passionate than the one from yesterday. You felt your heart warm, and for the first time all day, you felt comfort, warmth, love. You prepared to leave. You left notes for your siblings and parents, praying they’d understand.

You were going to miss your life; it was an easy one. Yet, a life without Logan would have been much harder.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?