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riqomi · 1 day ago

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MECHANISM ────ㅤ심재윤

심재윤˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff. university au! ──── BOOKSHELF ( 1334 ) tw: kissing. lmk if there's more.

you sit in the far corner of the campus library, same as always—near the window, back to the wall, headphones in but nothing playing. just enough to signal don’t talk to me. your notes are color-coded, margins lined with symbols only you understand, and there’s a half-empty coffee cup sweating rings onto the wood next to your laptop.

then there’s him.

jake sim. sunshine in human form. or at least, that’s what everyone seems to think.

you’re halfway through rewriting a lecture slide into something actually useful when he shows up again—hood up, backpack slung over one shoulder, that guilty puppy look in full effect. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there until you finally look up.

“you need the seat again.”

he nods. “please. just for a bit.”

you sigh but nudge your bag off the chair. he drops into it with a quiet groan, like even existing is exhausting. his knees knock against yours when he gets too comfortable, but you let it slide.

this is the third time this week.

he doesn’t talk much once he settles in. just opens his laptop, cracks open a biochem textbook, and starts highlighting like his life depends on it. you’ll give him that—he works hard. actually studies. doesn’t even look up when someone walks by giggling too loudly or “accidentally” drops a pen near his feet.

until they stop pretending.

“jake,” a voice says, high and sweet and not-so-innocent. “you’ve been in here for hours. want to grab coffee?”

you see the wince before he even turns. “i’m good, thanks.”

another voice joins in. “we could help you study. it might be more fun that way.”

you don’t mean to glance up, but you do. two girls, both clearly more interested in jake than mitochondria. you wait for him to shut it down.

he doesn’t. not hard enough, anyway.

you sigh and go back to your notes, but you feel the heat of his stare after a second. then—

his knee presses into yours. intentional this time.

he leans over, voice low, just for you. “help me out?”

you don’t say anything. just raise a brow.

he swallows, then does something bold.

his arm drapes across the back of your chair. not touching, but close enough to feel the static between you. when you still don’t react, he tilts closer, lets his chin hover just over your shoulder, and in a voice that sounds far too natural, says—

“babe, do you want to go over the quiz together now or after lunch?”

you go still. not because you’re shocked—but because he sounds like he means it.

the girls blink. shift on their feet. one of them forces a laugh.

“oh. sorry—didn’t realize…”

jake doesn’t even look at them anymore. just starts pointing at something in your notebook like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “this part—did you highlight it ‘cause of the mechanism thing or just vibes?”

you deadpan, “mechanism.”

“right. thought so.”

the girls linger for another second. then leave.

you wait until they’re gone before twisting to look at him properly.

he grins. not sheepish. proud.

“that was shameless,” you say.

“but effective.” he shrugs, that boyish charm kicking in. “besides, you looked like you were about to snap a pen in half. i figured i’d save everyone.”

you roll your eyes and push his arm off your chair. “don’t make a habit of it.”

his smile doesn’t dim. “just until midterms.”

you go back to your notes. he scoots half an inch closer. too close. you don’t stop him.

later, when someone else tries to approach, jake doesn’t wait. he slips his hand over yours under the table like it’s nothing. like it’s normal. you freeze for half a second—but you don’t pull away.

he keeps reading, calm as ever.

and when you finally look at him, there’s no smugness. just a quiet question in his eyes, unspoken but loud: is this okay?

you don’t answer out loud. you just shift your fingers to interlace with his.

his shoulders drop like he’s been holding something up too long. his thumb brushes yours once, twice. he doesn't say anything after that. just keeps studying, your hand in his, as if this was the plan all along.

it’s late by the time you both pack up—lamplight golden and soft against the library walls, your eyes sore from too many hours staring at the screen. you slide your laptop into your bag, jake doing the same beside you, quiet for once. not tense. just… thoughtful. the kind of quiet that follows something unspoken.

you sling your strap over your shoulder. he catches your eye, soft and warm. “let me walk you back.”

you hesitate, but only for a second. “alright.”

it’s cool outside, a whisper of wind tugging at your sleeves. the sidewalk is mostly empty, save for a few stragglers murmuring their way toward the dorms. you walk side by side, his shoulder brushing yours every now and then, and for once, he doesn’t fill the silence with jokes or random facts. just walks, hands in his pockets, lips parted like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

you glance over, catch the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you won’t notice.

“what?” you ask, voice low.

he shrugs, but he’s not convincing. “nothing.”

you stop walking. so does he. the moment stretches—quiet, heavy, full of all the things you’ve refused to name.

“jake.”

he steps closer. his voice is low, rough at the edges. “i meant it, you know. earlier. when i called you babe.”

your breath catches. his eyes drop to your mouth, then back up like he’s waiting for you to flinch. you don’t.

“wasn’t just to get them to back off,” he adds. “i mean, yeah—it worked. but i wouldn’t have done it if i didn’t—”

you don’t let him finish.

you reach for him, fist curling into the front of his hoodie and pulling him in until your mouths meet—hard, certain, no hesitating now. he responds instantly, hands coming up to cradle your face like he’s afraid to break the moment. like he’s been waiting for this since the second he first sat across from you with a textbook and an excuse.

it’s not gentle. it’s built from days of stolen glances and brushed knees and shared coffee cups, from the heat of his thigh against yours and the way he says your name like it’s something worth holding. his mouth is hot against yours, open and wanting, and when your hand slips under his hoodie, skimming the curve of his waist, he makes a sound low in his throat that you feel everywhere.

he backs you into the nearest wall, barely breaking the kiss, his fingers threading into your hair, mouth trailing along your jaw like he’s memorizing you one touch at a time. you let him. let him feel the way your breath stutters, the way your body leans into his like gravity’s no longer optional.

when you finally pull apart, barely, your foreheads touch. his hands are still on your waist, yours fisted in the fabric at his chest.

“i’m not good at keeping things casual,” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips.

you nod. “good.”

his eyes search yours. “so this—”

“is real,” you finish for him. “yeah.”

he exhales, like that one word just took the weight off his shoulders. and then he kisses you again, slower this time. sweeter. the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a game anymore.

when he finally walks you the rest of the way, his fingers stay laced with yours the whole time. and when you reach your door and turn to look at him, he’s already watching you with a look that says i’m all in.

neither of you says goodnight.

you just tug him down for one last kiss, and he smiles against your mouth like he already knows he’s not sleeping alone tonight.

likes, feedback and reblogs much appreciated. remember requests are open !!

#riqomi says !#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x black reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen suggestive #jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #sim jake #sim jaehyun x reader #jake sim #enhypen jake

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 days ago

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Look At His Face – Tyler Owens

Tyler's POV

"Thank you," I smiled as I took the keys from the girl behind the front desk. I turned around and instantly bumped into a beautiful girl my age.

"Sorry about that, darling."

"No worries, cowboy."

"Cowboy?" I asked.

She laughed as she reached up and tapped my hat. "Point taken," I chuckled. "So what brings you to Oklahoma?"

"Just passing through," she shrugged.

"Yeah? What's your final destination?" I asked, to keep her talking to me.

"New York."

"The big city," I smirked.

"You got something against cities, small town boy?"

"It's based on what you're used to," I shrugged as I put my hands in my back pockets.

"That it is," she chuckled as she walked by me. When she passed, I got a whiff of vanilla and strawberry. She talked to the girl at the front desk and got her room key. I wanted to stay to catch her name, but Boone called me over.

"Tyler! Where are you at?"

"Coming," I yelled over my shoulder. The girl looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. "It was nice to bump into you," I teased.

"Maybe we'll bump into each other again," she paused before adding, "Tyler."

I watched her as she grabbed her key and walked out. Right as she got to the door, she turned around and said, "Let me guess, cowboy. You were surprised to see the cells to the west choke each other out, weren't you?"

My mind was still trying to connect the dots as she walked out. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to snap out of it. As I walked back to my group, I kept looking back at the check-in office.

"What's with you?" Lily asked when I joined them.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I handed out the room keys.

"Yeah," Dex smirked. "You walked over here with this. . . look on your face."

"In fact," Boone elongated, "you walked out of the office with this cheeky smirk on your face." We all jumped when he gasped loudly. "You met a girl!"

"No, I didn't," I instantly pushed off. I walked past them and headed to the truck. I grabbed my bag and headed up to my room. I kept the door open like I usually do as I got myself settled. I walked out of the bathroom to see Boone sitting on my bed.

"Last I checked," I sighed, leaning against the small fridge, "I got you your own room, Boone."

"Tell me about her."

"Who?" I stuttered, trying to brush this off.

"The girl you met in the office earlier," Boone explained. "Who is she?"

I sighed and looked away. I turned my focus to my shoes as I slowly answered him. "I don't know, to be honest."

"How the hell do you not know?" Boone laughed.

"I didn't get her name," I sighed. "I turned around after checking in and instantly bumped into her. We talked for thirty seconds before you called me over."

"Sorry about that," he smirked.

"About what?"

Boone walked past me as he left my room. As he passed, he patted me on the back and laughed, "Sorry about taking you from that girl."

* * * * *

A few hours later, the little gathering was a full-on party in the parking lot. People were drinking, playing music, and exchanging stories. I was drinking a lot slower than the rest of my team.

I lifted my second beer to my lips and instantly froze when I saw Y/N leave her room. She walked out and leaned against the railing. When her eyes landed on me, she smirked and slowly lifted her hand and waved.

I forced myself to tear my eyes away from her as she walked downstairs and joined the party. Every once in a while, I found myself searching the crowd for her. She seemed to talk to everyone here.

My group was exchanging "war stories" as I was on top of the truck fixing some of our systems that got taken out by that last storm.

"Yeah," Boone was laughing. "We did it."

"Here we go, now we gotta top it," Dani smirked. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught Y/N heading up to her room.

"City girl," I called out to her. My team laughed.

"The cells to the west will choke each other out," I restated what she said to me in the office. "That's what you said."

"I did," she shrugged. "My guess is even the one to the east didn't throw you off the scent."

"Hey," Boone defended me before I could stop him, "that's what makes Tyler famous."

"You mean on YouTube?" She smirked.

"Uh, yeah," Boone chuckled. "Yeah, we're on the YouTube. We got what? About a million subscribers now, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" Lily laughed as she pointed at him, but kept fiddling with her latest project.

"What's your name?" Ben asked her. "Just in case I include you in my piece."

"Y/N," she said, glancing at me.

"Surname?" Ben pushed.

"Just Y/N," she instantly responded. My chest felt weird when I noticed her slightly shift.

"She's a tricky one," I tried to tease to get her to relax.

"Actually," Boone said, sending me a look over his shoulder before continuing, "you made a good call with what you told Tyler earlier. The other cell looked stronger, but cap never broke."

"What's a cap?" Ben asked.

"It's a temperature inversion in the mid part of the lower atmosphere," Y/N explained. "It inhibits a storm from forming."

She looked past Ben, her eyes instantly landing on me. Whatever expression I had on my face made Y/N's face turn light pink.

"Right," Ben said slowly. "Okay. Good."

"Where did you guys all meet?" She asked, her eyes scanning the group. "Did you study meteorology at the U of A?"

Y/N's facial expression dropped as everyone started laughing. When she looked at me, I sent her an apologetic smile and a small shrug. I went back to fixing our truck as they continued talking.

"All right, Y/N, me?" Boone started. "You know, I just flow with the wind. You know what I'm saying? Yeah, I never went to, like, school or nothing. But Tyler? Tyler studied meteorology, though."

"You did?" She asked, glancing at me.

"Yeah," Boone answered for me. "He's a real cowboy scientist. He's got this natural instinct."

"Okay, Boone," I sighed.

"He taught me everything I know so. . ."

"Boone," I cut him off. I slightly cleared my throat before looking over at Y/N.

"My crew's not like most crews, Y/N. We don't need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do. I guarantee you these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else in this lot combined."

"Is that right?" She smirked.

"Do you think there's a chance we'll see one tomorrow?" Ben asked Y/N.

"Oh yeah," Boone answered for her. "Outbreak, baby."

I rolled my eyes when he yipped. I looked over at Y/N and said, "You know, if you can keep up, we'll put you in the episode."

"Wow," she sarcastically laughed.

"Do you chase?" Ben asked.

"No," she said, but there was something in her eyes that said there was more to that simple answer than we thought. "I used to."

"Used to?" Ben asked.

"Things happen," Y/N tried to shrug off.

"What kind of. . ." I crushed my empty beer can and tossed it at him, cutting him off. When he looked up at me, I shook my head.

"If you were still chasing, where would you chase tomorrow?" Lily asked, helping Y/N by changing the subject.

"Oh no. No, no, no. You see, Y/N's from New York," I teased. "Can't trust a thing she says."

"Well, you can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt." She sent me a wink and walked up to her motel room. I couldn't help but follow her with my eyes.

"Man," Boone laughed. "Man, that was good."

"Awwww," Lily cooed. "Look at his face!"

"Shut up," I said, instantly putting on a glare and turning away from Y/N. I walked past my team, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt.

Luckily, my friends let it drop. Or so I thought.

I jumped off the truck and put my toolbox in the back. When I shut the truck door, Lily was standing there.

"What?" I asked.

"You were starstruck," she teased.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N," she said slowly.

"What about her?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"You like her," she smirked.

"She was. . . I mean, she seems cool," I stuttered.

"You should go talk to her," she said, teasingly pushing me. "Invite her back down here. Or, better yet, invite her to walk around that nearby park."

"We're in the middle of chasing," I brushed off. I tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Ty," she said gently, "you never let anyone in."

"What are you talking about?" I challenged. "I let people in. I talk to you guys all the time.

"That's not the same, and you know it," she sighed. "Whenever we run into a girl you're interested in, which is rarely, you have one conversation with her and then instantly push her away."

"I do not," I scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me in a way that made it clear that she knew I was lying. "Fine," I gave in. "But it doesn't matter, alright? I can't date right now. I need to be focused so I can bring you all back alive. I need to be focused on chasing."

"You know, Ty," she sighed, "there is such a thing as too focused. Especially when it's on the wrong thing."

* * * * *

I looked around to see my team officially too drunk to realize I was gone. I grabbed two beers and snuck up to the second floor of the motel. It wasn't until I knocked on her door that I realized how creepy this was.

Right as I was about to leave, she opened her door. "Tyler?"

"Hi," I said, sounding a lot more insecure than I had wished.

"What can I do for you?" She asked with a small smirk on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway.

"I thought you'd like a drink," I shrugged as I showed her the beers I'd brought. My stomach dropped when her smirk fell.

"I don't drink," she admitted. "But I could go for some pizza."

"On it."

This time, when I returned to Y/N's motel room, I didn't hesitate. I walked right up to the door and knocked. She soon opened the door, a small chuckle left her lips.

"You're back."

She laughed when I showed her the pizza. I ignored the feeling in my gut when she stepped aside and smirked at me. I sent her a wink as I walked into her motel room. As I sat across from her and we ate the pizza, I realized this would be the scariest thing I've ever chased.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfic #glen powell imagine #glen powell #twisters imagine #glen powell tyler owens #glen powell twisters

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midnightquips · 1 day ago

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Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

Chapter 1: Sparks & Sandwiches

Part I

Breathing is a regular bodily function. Supposedly easy. An unconscious action. But for some reason, Bucky Barnes makes you overly aware of yours. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but when he’s lounging in the training room, built like a Greek statue, it just seems to… happen. Adding to the fact that he randomly calls you sweetheart with that stupid crooked grin, your stomach just can’t help but flutter when he’s around.

You’re currently busy pretending to not look at him while you stretch on the mat. Whether you’re succeeding is questionable.

Bucky is across the gym, holding a punch bag steady while John Walker lays into it like he’s got something to prove–which, frankly, he always does.

His gaze flicks towards you, just for a second. You should have looked away in embarrassment but don’t want to make it seem that you were stealing glances, so you give him a small smile instead. He reciprocates warmly.

You’re snapped out of the little moment when Yelena murmurs mid-lunge beside you, “You’re not subtle.”

“What?” you reply innocently, through cheeks burning

Yelena makes a face, “Don’t think this thing–” motioning her head between you and Bucky, “–is very unnoticeable.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re a super spy. Everything is noticeable to you. Your mind is almost making things up.”

“Yet you’re a super spy and you still can’t figure out he’s into you.” It’s Yelena’s turn to roll her eyes

“He flirts with everyone. You’ve seen him. I’m not reading into it.”

Yelena snorts. “Sure. That’s why he lets you throw him across the mat without complaint. Totally something he does with everyone.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m strong.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s not the point.” She pauses, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “He clearly enjoys the straddling way more than he should.”

You nearly lose your balance.

Across the room, Bucky definitely notices.

Bucky is convinced his willpower is being tested.

He’s resting against the far wall of the gym, towel slung around his neck. He watches you carefully as you move through your warm-up with Yelena. Your current position–on your knees, pushing your body forward, chest facing up–makes Bucky swallow hard. It pulls at something primal inside him.

Bucky has seen hundreds of women in gym clothes. But for some reason, you in tight black leggings and a loose tank top knotted at your waist has him on edge. Maybe it’s because he’s imagined your body too many times and every time you wear this, it confirms even more how stunning you were. He adores every inch of you, but your thighs haunt him most nights. Thick, strong and always on display in your training gear.

He wants–no, prays to feel them wrapped around his waist. His shoulders. His face.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting the towel to cover his reaction.

“You good?” Bob Reynolds appears beside him like a blond, nosy ghost.

“Fine.”

“Mmm.” Bob’s smile is too knowing. “You keep staring like you’re writing poetry in your head.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you writing poetry in your head?”

“No.” Bucky watches you laugh at something Yelena says, a dimple flashing in your cheek. His stomach tightens.

“Because I could help you rhyme something with thighs.”

“Bob, I swear to God.”

Training always brings out the best and worst in you. You enjoy sparring. You like the burn in your muscles and learning new techniques you’ve never considered. You specifically loved the way your body can do things now that it couldn’t months ago. The real cherry on top was sparring with Bucky.

Which is also a real dilemma. Because he’s stupid hot but also stupid skilled.

And, worst of all, he lets you win. A flattery and an insult rolled into one.

“You’re pulling your punches again,” you say, landing on your back after a takedown you know he could’ve blocked.

Bucky stands over you, offering his hand. “Maybe you’re just too good, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes but take his hand. His grip is firm, warm, and way too steady. “You know, most people don’t flirt while getting their ass handed to them.”

He helps you up slowly, like it’s an excuse to let his hand linger. “Only with you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Behind you, Yelena raises both eyebrows and mouths, Oh my god.

The compound smells like heaven that evening.

You’re occupied in the kitchen, hair up, apron on while music is softly playing in the background. Steaks searing in the iron pan & vegetables roasting in the oven, while you quickly check on the saffron rice on the stove.

You taste a small spoon of the rice and nod your head in approval, knowing the team would love it. Cooking grounds you. Moving through the kitchen with ease makes this place feel like home.

A hand brushes your lower back. You only know one person stealthy enough to sneak up behind you.

“Smells good, doll.”

Bucky stands behind you, chest lightly pressed on your back as he peeks over your shoulder. He leans close enough that you feel the heat of his voice on your cheeks. Tempting you to almost lean back.

You try not to look at him. Breezy, cool on the front. Melting inside. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He pulls back and leans on the counter beside so he has a full view of you. The short cotton dress you’re wearing makes you look more homey, inviting thoughts of domestic life into Bucky’s brain. He crosses his arms and looks at you with a small smile, “I’m always hungry for your food.”

You try to ignore the way your heart flips. “I’m not serving you food unless you’ve showered.”

“It was quick. Didn’t want to miss you.” He says warmly

He says it only with a hint of teasing that it almost makes you pause. Almost. “Perhaps some distance will do us some good.”

“I would say more dangerous than good.”

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “What does that mean?”

“Can’t be any more fonder of you than I already am.”

It doesn’t mean anything. A simple reminder to yourself, before you turn back to the shelf beside the stove, trying to grab a spice from the top.

Bucky doesn’t even ask, just simply takes his place behind you once more, hand bracing your waist as he easily grabs the jar from above your head. He keeps his hand on your waist while pushing the spice into your hand.

“Here,” he says softly, voice a little lower

You take it almost reluctantly. Not realizing you’d been holding your breath. This man was definitely determined to kill you.

You’re snapped into returning to the cooking when he finally releases you. He decides to give you space by sitting at the kitchen island, but contrary to what you claimed earlier, you’re not quite sure the distance was really doing any good in this situation.

Dinner is chaos in the best way.

Alexei continuously praises your steak, declaring it “better than any American restaurant” while John asks for seconds before finishing his first plate. Yelena is busy asking why you never opened your own place, which she does every time. Bob makes a dad-joke about the saffron being “worth its weight in gold,” and Ava offers to do dishes as she requests you make paella again next week.

Bucky doesn’t say much, only looks at you the whole time.

He finally speaks when dinner has wrapped up. He asks if you want help in the kitchen. You don’t see it but Yelena has signaled the team to leave when she overhears this. John smirks at the meddling.

You stand side by side at the sink. Bucky washing the dishes and you drying it.

“Thanks for cooking. I would say it’s delicious, but I think having no leftover already signals that” he says.

You smile. “It’s nothing. I like feeding you guys.”

“You don’t have to do it all the time.”

“I want to. Feeding people is... comforting.” You pause, then tease, “Unless you’re offering to cook next time.”

“Only if you want me to burn pasta and set off the fire alarm.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

He likes the way your eyes light up when you laugh. He’s so gone.

There’s a bit of pause when you decide to ask, “Bucky, you date a lot?”

Bucky blinks in surprise, “What?”

You shrug, focusing on piling the plates back in the cabinet. “Just curious. You seem like... the type who does well. You know.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Why do you think that?”

“You flirt with everyone. You’ve got the arms. The eyes. The mysterious brooding past.”

His tone shifts, softer. “Y/N.”

You look over, taken aback by the seriousness painted on his face.

He simply says, “I don’t flirt with everyone.”

Your breath catches, unsure of what to make of his response. He’s still watching you and there’s palpable tension.

Yelena’s voice breaks the moment as she calls from the hall: “When are you two gonna fuck already?”

You drop the plate.

Bucky turns red.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

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sturnsblogs · 2 days ago

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Not Obvious at All

Nick!Sturniolo X Tattoo!Artist!Mateo

Word count- 1415

Warnings- kissing.

The Sturniolo living room was a mess of controllers, snack wrappers, and aggressive yelling.

Chris was halfway off the couch, yelling at Matt about cheating. Matt was swearing he didn’t. The screen was flashing some bright colors, but no one was really paying attention anymore.

Mateo was sitting cross-legged on the couch, controller in hand, shoulders shaking with laughter as Chris lost it over a virtual car crash. He was surprisingly good at keeping up with their chaos, even if he didn’t contribute much to it. Just smiled softly and chimed in when needed.

That’s when the stairs creaked.

Nick came down, hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, hair messy, expression unreadable. “What’s going on down here?”

Chris answered first. “The usual. Matt’s lying. I’m better than him. Mateo’s a silent assassin.”

Nick smirked, stepping around the coffee table. “That tracks.”

He didn’t bother asking if there was space. Just dropped down on the couch right next to Mateo, knees brushing as he sat. Mateo glanced at him but didn’t move. Nick smelled like his cologne had faded through a nap—something warm and too familiar—and the scent made Mateo shift slightly.

“You joining or just here to lurk?” Matt asked, eyes flicking between Nick and the lack of space between him and Mateo.

Nick leaned back, arms over the cushions, looking way too comfortable. “Just watching.”

Chris glanced over, grinning. “You came down here just to sit next to Mateo?”

Nick blinked. “What?”

Matt joined in, voice all sing-song. “You missed a perfectly good corner spot on the other side of the couch, and you sat right there. Interesting.”

Mateo glanced away quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.

Nick didn’t look fazed—just rolled his eyes, casually shifting his leg so it touched Mateo’s. “I can sit wherever I want.”

“Sure, sure,” Matt said, smirking. “It’s just wild how your personal bubble shrinks around one person.”

Chris nudged Mateo with his foot. “What about you, quiet guy? You good?”

Mateo nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah, just—uh, tired.”

But his expression gave him away. His lips were tight. Shoulders stiff. His fingers kept adjusting the cord of his controller even though it wasn’t tangled.

Chris narrowed his eyes. “You look like you committed a crime.”

Mateo let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Just tired, I swear.”

Nick glanced at him sideways, brows pulling together slightly. He noticed it. The way Mateo wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. The weird tension behind his usual calm.

Matt leaned forward. “Wait—did something happen?”

Mateo waved a hand. “No, no—just didn’t sleep much last night.”

Nick opened his mouth like he might ask something, but then just stopped himself, instead subtly nudging Mateo’s knee with his own under the pretense of shifting.

Mateo looked at him for half a second. Just enough to make Nick’s stomach flip.

Chris pointed at them dramatically. “Okay, something is going on. Y’all are acting like you robbed a gas station and made a pact to never speak of it.”

Nick stood up suddenly. “I’m getting water.”

Mateo stood too, too quickly. “Same.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Oh, now both of you are thirsty.”

Chris grinned. “Thirsty for what, though?”

Nick didn’t answer—just walked off toward the kitchen with Mateo trailing right behind him, that guilty look still lingering, but quieter now that it was just the two of them again.

The kitchen light flickered softly above them, casting a dull glow over the counter cluttered with half-finished drinks and a bag of chips that had definitely been opened hours ago.

Nick opened the fridge, grabbed a water bottle, then turned around, leaning against the counter as Mateo quietly filled a glass at the sink. The silence was calm, but charged—Nick wasn’t sure if it was the teasing back there or the way Mateo had looked like he wanted to disappear when everyone started talking.

He studied him for a second longer, then asked gently, “You okay?”

Mateo didn’t look up right away. Just watched the water fill his glass until it hit the top. Then he shut it off.

“Yeah,” he said.

It wasn’t convincing. Not even close. The kind of “yeah” that meant not really, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.

Nick didn’t push. He just nodded, cracking open the bottle of water and taking a sip before saying quietly, “I’m gonna head back upstairs.”

Mateo turned around, setting his glass down, but didn’t meet Nick’s eyes. He hesitated—just for a second—then looked up and asked, soft and almost unsure, “Can I come with you?”

Nick blinked. That guilty look Mateo had earlier was still there, but now it looked a little more like nerves. Like maybe whatever he was carrying around was heavier than he was letting on.

Nick nodded, no hesitation. “Yeah. Of course.”

Mateo didn’t say anything back, just followed quietly as Nick led the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs—close behind, close enough that Nick could feel the shift in the air between them.

And for once, Nick didn’t make a joke. Didn’t fill the silence.

Because some part of him knew—whatever this was, whatever Mateo wasn’t saying—he’d hear it when Mateo was ready.

And until then, he was okay just being the one Mateo wanted to be near.

Nick’s room was quiet, lit by the soft orange glow of a lamp near his bed. The door clicked shut behind them, and for a second, neither of them moved. Then Nick tossed his water bottle onto the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers threading through his hair like he needed a second to think.

Mateo stood awkwardly for a moment, then quietly lowered himself onto the other side of the bed. Not touching—but close. They both sat there, shoulders tilted in, legs dangling, the quiet stretching between them comfortably this time.

Nick glanced over, a soft grin tugging at his mouth. “So. You gonna tell me why you looked like you ran over someone’s dog earlier?”

Mateo let out a small, breathy laugh, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I didn’t. I just…” He looked down for a second, then shrugged. “I’m not used to people noticing stuff. Or calling it out.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, Chris and Matt are like… emotional bloodhounds. You flinch, and they’re already building a theory.”

“I’m usually better at staying in the background,” Mateo admitted. “Just… existing. Quietly.”

Nick leaned back on his hands, glancing over at him. “You think you’ve been in the background lately?”

Mateo’s eyes met his, something a little vulnerable flickering through them. “Not when I’m around you.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”

Mateo huffed out a laugh and looked away, cheeks tinged pink. “Maybe both.”

Nick watched him for a second longer, then shifted to sit cross-legged, turning toward him fully. “You’re different when it’s just us. I like it.”

Mateo mirrored him slowly, knees almost touching now. “You’re… easy to be around.”

Nick’s voice softened. “You’re easy to like.”

Mateo’s eyes flicked up at that—just briefly—and Nick saw it. The pause. The breath Mateo took that was deeper than the one before.

He didn’t push, didn’t lean in. Just waited.

Mateo’s voice was quiet, but steady. “I’ve been trying not to… do anything dumb.”

Nick’s brows knit together slightly. “Like what?”

Mateo’s eyes dropped to Nick’s mouth for just a second. “Like this.”

And then he leaned in—slow, unsure at first—but close enough for Nick to meet him halfway if he wanted to.

Nick didn’t even think about it. He just moved. Let their mouths meet in the middle like something magnetic had been waiting to pull them together since the moment Mateo walked in the front door the first time they met.

The kiss was soft. Careful. A little hesitant, but warm—like neither of them wanted to rush it. Nick’s hand found the edge of Mateo’s sleeve without even realizing it, fingers brushing the fabric as they stayed there, lips pressed together in that slow kind of way where everything else fades out.

When they pulled apart, barely an inch between them, Nick’s voice was barely above a whisper. “So… that wasn’t dumb.”

Mateo’s cheeks were flushed, but his smile was real this time. “Good.”

They didn’t say much after that. Just sat there, legs still touching, the air between them quiet but full.

Neither of them felt like they had to fill the silence.

A/N- I feel like this was appropriate 😛 @kier-with-a-k (thank you king)

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hearthandhallows · 21 hours ago

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Dante watched Jesse jog around the truck like it was the most natural thing in the world to go hunting for a CD player in the middle of a drive-in, and despite himself, he huffed a laugh. “You’re tellin’ me you got a discman ridin’ shotgun? Aye, you really don’t fuck around, huh?” His tone was teasing, but not unkind, and that wall he’d started stacking back up, brick by careful brick, was already crumbling again

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When Jesse flopped back down beside him, making the whole truck groan, Dante shifted just slightly so their arms brushed. He didn’t move away, though, just sat there with the contact. “You better not be oversellin’ it,” he warned lightly, though the smile was there, tugging stubborn at the corner of his mouth. “’Cause if I listen to this and don’t immediately feel like makin’ out in the backseat of my Regal, I’m blamin’ you.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The movie flickered on behind them, mostly ignored, and the sounds of chaos and camp blurred into the background. Dante’s gaze drifted back to Jesse as he spoke, and his expression softened with it. The firelight licked at his lashes, casting gold along the edges of his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice lower, more certain. “I get that.” He hesitated a second, then added, “But I don’t think you gotta shut up first. Not all the way. I think you just need someone who don’t mind the noise.” He didn’t say it, but his mind flicked briefly to his cousin - the only person who’d really seen him after the crash. The one who didn’t ask for an explanation when he bailed on everything and everyone else.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “C’mon, then” he said, nodding toward the player. “Let’s hear this horny baseball musical magic of yours.” His smile faltered after just a second, and he said, “Um.” His face burned, and he really didn’t wanna talk about it, but, with the music playing loud in the background, and Jesse having been on his bad side… He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and then crawled over the other, just real quick. “I can hear better on this side.” Was all he said, then he pushed play. Could he have hopped off the tailgate and moved himself that way? Yeah, but Dante rarely thought, just did.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was still a little hard to hear, and he subconsciously started moving even closer to the discman, but the grin grew on his face as the song continued. “Paradise by the dashboard light, huh?” He said, and by the time the interlude completed, he was laughing. “Oh, damn, that’s all crazy.” The song continued on, and Dante nodded his head, tapping in rhythm against the metal of the truck bed. He really liked the song.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Then the final verse came, and Dante sat there blinking, mouth parting in disbelief. “You weren’t kiddin’. Promised forever and shit!” His tone was full of giddy outrage, his grin spreading again. The thing about Dante Reyes, underneath all the bruised pride and bad decisions, was that he was a chismoso at heart. This song had the same wild, dramatic energy as sitting around a cousin’s kitchen table, talking mad shit and laughing till his ribs ached.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “You got taste, cabrón.” He said as the song came to a close, the toothy grin having returned. At this point, the movie was just background noise, he hadn’t looked at the screen in a while.

"Oh they did more than make out," he remarked, eyes following Dante's movements as he pulled out the paper and pen to write things down. "They were feelin' each other up n' everythin', 'cause that's what the song is 'bout.. the thing breaks out into a play-by-play of some baseball announcer — y'know what? Hold that thought." He held up a finger, before suddenly scooting off the truck bed and jogging around the truck to its passenger side. Jesse opened the door and there were sounds of him digging around in the glove compartment.

Seconds later, he was climbing back into the truck bed and flopped back down besides the other man, causing the entire truck to wobble and creak. "I ain't doin' it justice, it's better to hear it for yourself," Jesse told the other, holding up a Sony discman. Yeah, he did have his most favorite album on hand at any second, thank you.

As Jesse set it up, he laughed from Dante's description and glanced toward the forgotten movie screen right as Frank N. Furter flashed across it. "I guess you're right, we are," he was amused. "I never thought of him like a queer alien but he is, ain't he? Literally from some world Transylvania n' they take blast off at the end.." Why it never really occurred to him to think of them as Others, though, he couldn't say. Probably because those people didn't look too different from him, he figured.

The player got sorted, and he looked up. "Yeah," Jesse was sheepish, "it's kinda hard to get me outta my head, even for a song or two. I gotta get myself to shut the fuck up first." Really, it was his fault, not anyone else's. They were always his thoughts that got in there, muddied everything up. Held him back. "So uh," he sat down the player, looking briefly at the screen before hazel eyes settled back on Dante's face, "if you wanna hear what I'm talkin' on.." It was ready to play.

#dante reyes #dante ; jesse #dante ; jesse 01

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starseneyes · 1 day ago

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On Fandom and Shipping

Look, I've not said anything on the whole outcome of last night's 9-1-1 partially because I don't really go here, and partially because I know everyone's emotions are all over the place.

But, just a gentle reminder—the actors don't control the narrative. Yes, there are times that actors can influence it or a Showrunner gives them voice.

The actors went out and did a Press Tour and promised nothing. I mean, nothing. Yes, their natural chemistry was on fire. Yes, certain networks chose to edit pre-recorded interviews in a way that got fans excited and hopeful.

And hope is a dangerous thing when it comes to shipping.

But before I get into all that—below the "read more" cut—let me say this:

Please don't go after the actors.

Don't leave them rude comments. Don't threaten them. They are literally employees doing their job and they promised nothing.

Is their natural chemistry undeniable and sizzling? God, yes. Probably part of why they've been separated in a lot of promotion the past year or so. But they likely had little say in their pairing up for this press push and they handled it as best they could, I think.

Yes, the Press was promoting Buddie in a way that I think we all had to wonder—bait or tease? And there was a healthy dose of skepticism from the fandom, but also a lot of hope.

I've been in fandom forever. I'm old. My first ships were Mulder/Scully and Janeway/Chakotay. I know Ship disappointment and hurt.

And, yes, a different scenario in that we're also talking about the possibility of a MLM romantic pairing that is too often underrepresented on television at a time that LGBTQ+ rights are under attack in the United States.

So, it was nice to surrender skepticism to hope when the signs seemed to be pointing toward something concrete based on the promotion and press.

And, honestly, I love this fandom for its many interpretations of "canon" so "concrete" could mean a million things.

Back in my day, a kiss wasn't even enough. Y'all, if you watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, Troi and Riker are madly in love in one episode and the next he's off-ship flirting with some alien like a lonely bachelor whose only companion has been his hand for too long.

But this fandom seems to say, "Feeling realization? Sure!" "One sided pining, fine!" and so many other variations. The season finale was a big ball of nothing in terms of Buddie, which can feel like whiplash after the feast of 8x17.

I get disappointment. But, please, leave Oliver Stark and Ryan Guzman alone.

Yes, somewhere TPTB decided they needed to pair them up for some interviews—the Thirst Tweets, the Spilling the ETea. Their chemistry is electric. Some people just have that. They do. And that fed into the hope.

But, again, they're doing their jobs. Press is part of the job. And neither is in the mood to lose their job right about now.

Hollywood is functioning at a far smaller capacity than it used to. Even before the fires that plagued L.A. this winter, and the excuse of the Strikes that the Studios have used to shrink show-orders and move production overseas for slightly wider profit margins, the industry has been constricting, somewhat.

These actors are happy to have jobs and don't want to lose them, so they do the work. But they both did their best in their answers to manage expectations while on the red carpet—while trying not to give anything away.

The most out-of-pocket bits are just them being them and they didn't coordinate those shoots. Their reps did because some higher up thought it would be a good idea to set it up.

And, y'all, I'm gonna keep that Thirst Tweets video in my rotations for bad days because it just makes me laugh and sometimes I need to laugh at the absurdity of my life.

So, loves, please don't leave death threats and angry messages and all sorts of attacks on the pages of two people doing their jobs who tried to manage expectations while oozing natural chemistry.

Yes, it felt like something shifted with the promotion and open discussion of Buddie. Maybe they're setting the groundwork for next Season. I have utterly no idea.

And please don't misconstrue this as me telling anyone how to feel!

You can feel hurt. You can feel frustrated. You can feel baited. Absolutely!

All I'm asking is that in our collective hurt we don't take those frustrations out on the wrong person/people.

#911 spoilers #911 on abc #buddie spoilers #buddie #oliver stark #eddie diaz #Ryan Guzman #Evan Buckley #Eddie x Buck

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seumyo · 3 days ago

Note

hi! How would you characterize Sakusa? And do you have any fic recommendations where you think he’s very in character?

I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE !! PLEASE, BUCKLE UP 💺 BECAUSE I’M GOING TO YAP (in 12 paragraphs or more, I think)

PLEASE DO NOTE THAT THIS IS JUST FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES, I’m not mad or trying to be all wise and condescending with how people interpret his character, huhu. People can interpret characters to their own judgement, and these are just my thoughts <33

I just realized nonnie just asked how I (ME) would characterize Sakusa and NOT a Sakusa analysis, uhm. Let me just take a hiatus rq—I’M EMBARRASSED

Let’s start with the beginning (and no, this doesn’t have a chronological order; I just yap and yap) !!

Sakusa is one of the most misunderstood characters in Haikyuu, mostly because people tend to reduce him to a simple “germaphobe” and a “mean, blunt jerk.” But that’s honestly such a bit of a shallow take on a character who’s way more nuanced than that !!

Let me explain 🤓☝️

NOTE. WORDS MAY REPEAT AND LIKE, I JUST YAP SO IT GOES IN CIRCLES 💥 if it doesn’t make any sense, it’s bcs it’s just yap and no brain cells applied 🙀

^ Canonically, we know that Sakusa was a quiet child, not very social. He didn’t make friends easily, and with a family that was often too busy for him, he was mostly on his own. It was Komori, his cousin, who introduced him to volleyball, and even then Sakusa didn’t immediately love it.

He just needed something to do.

But slowly, he found something meaningful in it—a sense of control, perhaps, or a challenge that suited his methodical nature. He started practicing alone, pushing himself, and that’s such a key part of who he is. Sakusa doesn’t rely on external motivation—he’s self-driven. That’s rare.

He’s also very independent.

What really gets me about Sakusa is how high his standards are—for himself, most of all. After losing to Ushijima, he didn’t sulk or lash out. He drilled his receiving technique until it was no longer a weakness.

He sets goals with ridiculous precision and won’t stop until he’s met them. That kind of relentless improvement isn’t born out of ego—it’s born out of pride. Pride in doing things right. Pride in being the kind of player who doesn’t settle. And yes, maybe that makes him intense. Maybe it makes him hard to approach. But it also makes him someone who doesn’t break under pressure, who doesn’t shy away from challenges, and who quietly holds himself—and everyone around him—to a higher standard.

He wants to finish things until they’re polished and there is no more room for errors.

+ There’s also this layer of competitiveness and self-awareness that a lot of people miss. Sakusa doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t react much even after scoring a match point. But put a strong rival in front of him, and it’s like watching a storm roll in. He focuses, studies them like a puzzle, and works until he can dismantle their strengths piece by piece.

When Kageyama said he seemed “average”? Sakusa didn’t get angry because of insecurity—he got irritated because he knew better. He knew what he was capable of, and being underestimated wasn’t something he tolerated, not because he needed praise, but because it was factually incorrect.

That’s such a realistic and mature reaction, honestly. He’s not prideful for the sake of ego. He’s just confident in his analysis—another sign of his realist mindset. Like, imagine if someone said you were just “okay” in something you excel in—you would be angered too, no?

Komori and Washio have both pointed out his bluntness, which people often confuse for rudeness. But it’s not that Sakusa doesn’t care about people—he just values honesty more than pleasantries. His sense of humor exists (surprise, he’s funny I wanna k*ss him so badly), but it’s dry and subtle, more likely to show up during a deadpan tease than a laugh-out-loud moment. FREE MY MAN FROM THE TOO SERIOUS ALLEGATIONS

And the thing is, his quietness isn’t arrogance. It’s just... focus. He observes. He analyzes. He doesn’t speak unless there’s something worth saying. And in a world obsessed with noise, that can look like superiority when it’s actually just self-possession (the state or feeling of being calm, confident, and in control of one's feelings; composure).

People love to shorthand it as “germophobia,” but that misses what he actually feels—he’s just blunt about the things he dislikes (which is getting dirt on him or possibly getting sick). Sakusa’s fear of germs isn’t irrational or obsessive in the way the label implies. It’s rooted in control—specifically, his desire not to compromise his physical condition.

He’s hypermobile, meaning his joints move beyond the normal range. That kind of body demands meticulous care, because one wrong move or a simple cold or injury can set him back.

A research conducted by Nathan et. al. (2018) concluded that “Hypermobility is relatively common among individuals, and there is a lot of anecdotal evidence associating it with increased rates of injuries. This project finds that NH individuals are more likely to sustain a ligament or joint sprain in sports. This is due to increased joint laxity and flexibility preventing injury.” The limitations of this research are “assessing for particular hypermobility and focusing on one sport to investigate its association with sports injury in those who are hypermobile or not + focusing on one specific joint, assessing its flexibility and association with injury.”

So yeah, he avoids crowds. He wears a mask. He probably wipes down his water bottle like it’s a sacred artifact (maybe !! I do too because I don’t wanna get sick in this scorching summer heat in the archipelago I live in). But this isn’t just paranoia—it’s discipline. It’s the same discipline that drives him to spike a ball 378 times just to get better or to keep setting until his hands blister because he’s not satisfied with “good enough.”

He doesn’t just wear a mask because he’s scared of germs for no reason—his caution is tied to his identity as a perfectionist and realist.

Sakusa is hyperaware.

He’s constantly calculating risks—on and off the court. He isn’t trying to be dramatic about hygiene; he’s just cautious. Everything he does is intentional. When you look at how he plays, you realize that he’s methodical, adaptable, and incredibly precise. He doesn’t waste energy or motion—his gameplay is almost pristine. That’s not someone who’s just gifted; that’s someone who demands the best from himself, which probably explains why he’s so cautious about staying healthy and injury-free.

SAKUSA ISN’T A MEANIE BLUNT JERK PLS (okie, maybe a little, but all is forgiven; I can apologize for him #mybebeloves)

++ Sakusa’s not closed off because he doesn’t care—he’s closed off because he does. He’s observant, he listens, and he notices the little things others miss. His standards are high, but he holds himself to them first. That quietness, that distance, it’s a kind of armor (could be a response to what he experienced in childhood—probably neglect OR fear of attachment). But underneath it, there’s someone fiercely devoted to the game, someone who knows the cost of excellence and still chooses to pay it every day.

Sakusa isn’t the type to shout or make a big deal out of things, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You can tell he respects and values his teammates, even if he’s sarcastic or reserved. He notices small details that other players might overlook, and that says a lot about his thoughtfulness. His kind of loyalty is quiet but strong—he doesn’t need to be loud to lead or connect with people.

I also think his quietness is often mistaken for arrogance.

He’s not trying to act superior; he just genuinely thinks deeply before speaking or acting. That makes him come across as aloof, especially in a sport where a lot of top players are loud or super high-energy. But honestly, I find his presence really grounding. He brings a calm intensity that balances out more explosive personalities like Bokuto (another bebeloves of mine ☹️).

And let’s be real—Sakusa wouldn’t fall for someone he couldn’t trust. If he lets Y/N into his space, into his world, that means everything. It means he’s choosing them, despite every instinct he’s built to protect himself. So no, he wouldn’t be a jerk to them (pls just let my bebeloves love with his whole heart 😪). He might be a little blunt, a little awkward maybe. But he’d be gentle in his own quiet way. The kind of love that’s slow, thoughtful, but undeniably real. LIKE HE’S A BOY LET HIM BE GOOFY, MY SILLY LITTLE CUPCAKE DESERVES JUSTICE 😭 DON’T MAKE HIM A MEANIE I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES

So yeah, when I write for Sakusa, I make him 20% serious and 80% loverboy 😋🫶

Neway, fic rec time uwu — fics that I think captured his character well☝️💞

when you start dating kiyoomi by @kleftiko

period cramps and a little bit of pining by @omi-boshi

make up for it by @cierai

won’t you get up off, get up off the roof? by @/uaigneach on ao3 - one of my fav sakusa/atsumu fics (but it’s mostly atsumu-centric!)

Better Together by @/ghostystarr on ao3 - aha, another one of my favs on ao3 🫶

#𓏲ׂ 📮₊˚ʾʾ #someone hold my hand i’m shaking #i love love love sakusa #i’m so sorry if we’re going in circles #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu analysis #professional yapper needs her mouth to be taped shut #i luv yapping oh em gee

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happy74827 · 9 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 6 months ago

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I love to get 2 on

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mmf, polyamory, cursing, smut (fighting over who gets to breed you), dumbification, finger sucking, breeding kink duh, implied size kink, daddy kink, mdni.

An: this is so self indulgent of me to write but idc nothing else is intriguing me besides this thought. this will likely end up being a small series because i have sooooo many ideas about these two nasty fucks.

Having both Toji and Satoru as boyfriends was not for the weak willed because these two men are constantly at each other’s throats when it comes to your attention.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. ‘m the one givin this pussy what she wants.” Toji’s husky voice growls into your ear, breath fanning across your skin before he grunts.

His hips are slapping against yours — fucking you deep into the mattress while his heavy cock slides in and out of your sloppy hole. Pornographic squelches are coming straight from your pussy, making you cringe, but both of your boyfriends seem to be going feral from it.

Satoru’s pale blue eyes roll as Toji once again steals the show away from him. His palm cups your chin, and he drags your focus right back to his swollen cock. His tip is a pretty shade of pink, and it’s sweltering — leaking beads of precum over and over while he leisurely drags his hand up and down his length .

“Don’t listen to him. Look at Toru.” He coos with a grin, loving how fucked out your face gets when Toji absolutely ruins you. “He’s just a placeholder, riiight~? You’re still going to let me breed you after.”

You’re so pliant for them, nodding your head like a dumb slut. Nothing else in the world is better than when they both take turns breeding you again and again.

“This placeholders ‘bout to make her cum again.” Toji taunts, gripping your hips with bruising strength as he rolls his hips just the way you like. His tip presses kisses of precum so deep inside you. You can barely breathe much less think.

“You better not, princess. Suppose to wait for Toru, remember?” Satoru’s voice grows stern, and his eyes bore into yours in an almost eerie fashion.

“C’mon, doll. Cum for daddy. I can feel you tightening around me. I know ya want to.”

It’s all so much. Watching Satoru fuck into his wrist while Toji’s tip is practically massaging your g-spot. You give Satoru a sorrowful glance before letting out a pleasured cry. Your hands fist at the sheets, and your toes literally curl as juices gush out around the base of Toji’s cock.

“Yeeaah, not bad for a placeholder, right?” Toji’s lips quirk up into a smirk before he presses a kiss to your lips, drinking down your moans just to rub it in Satoru’s face even more.

All it takes is one look from Satoru, and Toji slides out of you with a grin. “I got ‘er warmed up for ya.” Toji laughs as he and Satoru switch positions. You lazily part your thighs for Satoru, still trying to catch your breath from the soul shattering orgasm Toji just gave you.

“Nuh uh. You wanted to be a slut on his cock. ‘m gonna treat you like one.” His hands grab your waist, and he rolls you onto your stomach forcefully.

From the outside, everyone would probably guess that brooding Toji’s the mean one in these scenarios, but they’d be dead wrong.

Satoru, after a life of being spoilt, gets so rude and aggressive when he doesn’t get what he wants. Toji purposefully pushes him to that point — partly so he can watch you get railed deeply into the mattress until tears fall from your eyes.

The heel of Satoru’s palm connects with your back, and he forces your face and shoulders down into the sheets while his other hands guides his cock to your weeping entrance.

You grip at the sheets immediately, letting out a hiss as he buries himself all the way to the hilt in one fluid thrust.

“Fuck.” Satoru groans as if he’s genuinely mad at how wet you are — frustrated that Toji could get you this messy.

Toji brushes your hair away from your face, and his large palm rubs at your cheek gently — a tender reminder to keep your eyes on him while he jerks his cock right in front of your face.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you? I was- ngh.. gonna be nice to you tonight… since hah~ I’m trying to put a baby in you.” Satoru’s hips are forcefully slamming into your backside. He’s not moving fast, but his pace is punishing. “Toji’s already got a kid. It’s my turn.”

Your juices are seeping around his cock, forming a thin white line right around the base that makes Satoru’s cock twitch in delight. His hand slaps at the fat of your ass smack! before he’s pulling on your hips, making you meet him halfway just so he can make his thrusts count.

“Takin’ him so well. Keep it up for, daddy, yeah?” Toji murmurs before pressing a loving kiss to your temple.

Your mouth opens for Toji, and he gives you an affectionate chuckle before placing his thumb against your tongue to soothe that oral fixation you have. He knows that if he fucks your face, Satoru will have even more of a hissy fit and probably fuck you out of commission for a few days.

“Focus on him, doll. Looks like he’s making ya feel real good.” You nod, sucking on Toji’s thumb in between breathless whines and moans.

Satoru’s balls are so heavy, brutally slapping against your puffy clit with each thrust. Thwak! Thwak! Thwak! He’s been saving up for you, adamant that he needs to breed you. He’s the upcoming Gojo clan head after all; it’s natural that those old hags want a baby with his blessed genes.

All it takes is feeling your spongy walls clench around him like a vice, and Satoru’s jerking you up by your arms, forcing your back in to an arch to where the imprint of his dick bulges through your belly.

Both of you are so noisy when you cum, Toji thinks. He watches in slight awe as Satoru pumps you full with his sticky seed. He can tell by the look on Satoru’s face that you’re milking him for all he’s worth too, and it’s so fucking hot.

Toji pushes you back down into the bed. Both men aren’t good with words. They’re good at doing. He arches his hips out before rope after rope of white hot cum spurt from his tip all over your face, marking his territory.

After a moment of cleaning up and giving you small tokens of affection through praises and kisses, the men are right back at each other’s throats.

“Ya know, if you’re not able to keep up, I can breed her cunt, and let ya pass off my kid as yours.” Toji taunts with a smirk.

“Yeah, as if your first kid didn’t look like he came from your ass. Fat chance. Sweets and I are gonna make a pretty blue-eyed baby with white hair.” Satoru hums as he affectionately ruffles your hair. “Isn’t that right, pretty~?”

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nochepsicodelica · 9 months ago

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Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.

"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."

"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.

"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."

"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.

"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."

He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.

"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."

"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"

"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.

"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."

"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.

"Really," he responds, so confidently.

You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."

"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."

He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.

"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.

"Who's to say?"

You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."

"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."

You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.

"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."

You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.

"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.

"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.

"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.

"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"

"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"

"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.

"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.

He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."

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kunasthiast · 19 days ago

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family jewels

the thing about you and sukuna was that you were the most annoying kind of married couple.

hot. loaded. and completely, delusionally obsessed with each other (to the point that it gets most people who see you outside annoyed at your PDAs).

which is why it was absolutely no surprise that when you decided to throw a party to celebrate closing another billion-dollar deal… you were also the LAST ones to show up to your own party at the fucking club.

you two were forty minutes late.

forty. fucking. minutes.

it was enough time for your friends to empty two champagne bottles, start several arguments, and contemplate abandoning you entirely.

“they're late,” geto said, deadpan, flicking his lighter open and closed in a steady rhythm, irritation simmering beneath the surface.

“they’re always late,” choso sighed, swirling his whiskey like a man who had seen too much.

“they’re probably fucking in the car right now,” shoko said, already halfway through her third drink.

meimei, perfectly composed as always, took a long sip of her champagne. “or in the alley. they’re not picky.”

“if they don’t show up in ten minutes, i’m eating their cake,” yuki announced, already reaching across the table.

the VIP lounge you reserved wasn’t tucked away upstairs or anything fancy. no — you specifically picked the main floor, where everyone could watch you be the beautiful, arrogant bastards you were.

plush velvet couches.

towering flower arrangements.

the bartender assigned exclusively to your table wore a $500 shirt and a grim expression.

because when rich, hot stupid motherfuckers drank — they drank like they were personally challenging god. gojo’s words, not yours, ‘kay?

“you think they got distracted by shiny objects,” gojo said, pushing up his sunglasses. “they're like fucking toddlers. with a joint checking account.”

toji just grunted and leaned back in the booth, looking like he regretted agreeing to socialize with these idiots. the whole group practically vibrated with boredom and thinly veiled resentment.

and just as yuki was lifting her fork — the club doors slammed open.

and in you walked — a vision in skin-tight black and gold, all legs and smugness, absolutely glowing under the strobing lights. there you were. walking in like you OWNED THE BUILDING.

sukuna was behind you, one hand lazily on your lower back, looking criminally hot in an open-collar shirt and a black jacket he wore like he didn’t give a single fuck.

you were laughing at something he said, adjusting your necklace, looking unfairly hot, and just… honestly, you both had the radiance of people who had just had incredible sex. and knew it.

shoko groaned into her glass. “disgusting,” she muttered.

"i can smell the sex from here," toji said bluntly, nose wrinkling.

“they’re fucking glowing,” yuki said, shielding her eyes dramatically.

“puh-lease for the love of god, make it stop,” gojo said, voice scandalized. “that’s post-nut clarity.”

you practically skipped into the booth, tossing your purse onto the table and sliding into the seat beside meimei like you hadn't just made them all wait almost an hour.

“hi besties!!” you chirped, grinning like a maniac.

“we said ten,” geto said, voice clipped.

“ten-ish,” you said brightly, throwing up finger guns at him.

“what the fuck is ten-ish,” choso muttered, half-tempted to throw his drink at you.

“fashionably late,” sukuna chimed in smugly, sliding into the booth beside you and throwing his arm over the back of your seat like he was posing for a magazine cover. “you're welcome for gracing you with our presence.”

“40 minutes late for a goddamn billion-dollar celebration to a club you’re only 8 fucking minutes away from and you’re both too smug about it," gojo said, visibly offended. “someone punch them.”

“surprised you even showed up” sukuna replied to gojo, who miraculously took off his damn sunglasses inside the club.

gojo laughed, flipping his sunglasses down lower on his nose. “i don't abandon my friends,” he said, flashing a grin. “even if they're late, horny, and morally bankrupt.”

“thanks, darling,” you said sweetly, blowing him a kiss.

gojo caught it midair and dramatically pretended to shove it down his pants. “gonna save that for later.” he said with a wink.

“can i throw up now,” toji muttered, nursing his whiskey.

“only if you aim it at gojo,” meimei said dryly, clinking her glass against yours.

you and sukuna settled in as if you hadn't just made everyone’s blood boil — kicking your legs up onto the plush seats, stealing yuki’s drink without asking, and laughing like this is your last day on earth.

“so why are we actually here,” toji asked, clearly so done with the night, tipping his head back against the booth.

you sat up straighter, practically glowing with excitement.

“because,” you said, dramatically flipping your hair. “we closed a billion-dollar deal, signed the paperwork, and immediately celebrated by fucking on the kitchen counter.”

choso made a noise like he was dying, “jesus christ.”

“also drank a whole bottle of dom p,” sukuna added proudly, lifting his glass in salute.

“then fucked again,” you said cheerfully as if this was the most normal convo you have with your friends.

“then passed out naked on the living room floor,” sukuna said, like he was giving a TED Talk on life excellence.

meimei only nodded, approving and unbothered — she understood the grind. shoko started chanting "divorce, divorce, divorce" under her breath like a curse.

“ew,” geto muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. gojo howled, sloshing the champagne bottle he was drinking from everywhere.

“and because we’re very generous people,” you continued sweetly, resting your chin on your hand, “we decided to share our joy and wealth by hosting a little party for our beloved friends.”

“you could’ve just venmoed me,” yuki deadpanned.

“gojo still owes me five grand,” geto said, side-eyeing him.

“gojo owes me a liver,” shoko added.

“you people are fucked,” sukuna said fondly, taking a lazy sip of his whiskey, as though he didn’t just contribute to the stupidity and fuckery of society.

“we learned from the best,” toji said, sipping his drink like he was the moral compass of the group. (no one is.)

you and sukuna accepted the compliment gracefully, grinning like heathens.

—

after several rounds of drinks, a round of flaming shots, a group selfie where everyone looked hot and insane, and gojo almost arm-wrestling toji for the last fucking slider, the inevitable happened. the girls wanted to dance.

“let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” shoko whooped, already yanking you out of your seat.

“leave the fossils here,” meimei said, flicking sukuna’s ear as she passed.

“hey!” sukuna barked, swatting at her.

“catch me first, grandpa,” she sang over her shoulder.

“i’m killing her later,” sukuna muttered under his breath, nursing his drink.

you giggled, leaning down to kiss his lips. “be good, baby,” you whispered in his ear, sliding into his lap with a level of sweetness only you could pull off.

he caught your chin gently, tilting your face up until you were staring into that lazy, molten gaze.

"i’ll be watching, sweetheart," he promised, voice low and dangerous.

you almost melted but shoko was having none of it. she yanked you away like the world was on fire and your ass was the hydrant.

—

the dance floor was a nightmare in the best way (or not). a sea of heat and bodies, music thundering so loud you could feel it in your teeth. you and the girls lost yourselves in it — hair whipping, hands thrown up, laughing so hard you thought you might dislocate something.

meanwhile, from the booth, the boys watched you girls like an ancient greek chorus of judgmental old men who had seen far too much in their lifetimes.

“gojo’s recording again,” geto noted, eyes narrowing at the screen like it was some kind of horrible documentary..

“obvs, for blackmail purposes,” gojo chimed in with his stupid grin, filming you for some future hostage situation.

“you know sukuna’s gonna murder someone if someone looks at her wrong, right?” toji added, the corner of his mouth curling.

“good,” sukuna drawled, lighting a cigarette lazily. “saves me the trouble.”

but then. oh boy. holy shit. the universe really decided to put on a show. so now here they are as they all watched this current situation you’re in unfold like a goddamn movie.

you were twirling mid-spin, lost in the music when a presence loomed too fucking close. you stumbled, catching yourself — and then there he was. some frat boy in a very tight compression shirt and leather jacket, grinning (or was he smirking??) like he was the stupidest human alive.

“hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, leaning way too close. “mind if I buy you a drink?”

you blinked at him, momentarily stunned.

“uh,” you said eloquently.

before anyone could even get a word out, shoko immediately stepped in, body tense. yuki shot the frat boy a look, already calculating his odds of survival, while meimei simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

from the booth, gojo couldn’t hold it in anymore. “holy shit,” he cackled, loud enough to make everyone of the guys in the booth question why they’re even friends with this idiot. “is that kid hitting on your wife?!” he nearly choked on his drink, and you could hear the evil grin on his face even through the loud music.

“kid’s got a death wish,” geto added, deadpan, as he took a sip of his drink.

sukuna just... stared. amused, maybe. a little deadly.

and because you were inexplicably tipsy and feeling spiteful as hell, you decided to indulge the idiot.

“i’m married,” you said brightly, like this wasn’t the most obvious thing to say. you even held your left hand out, showing off the wedding ring.

the kid didn’t even blink. didn’t even pause.

“yeah? that just makes you hotter.” he grinned.

you gawked at him like he was a bug under a magnifying glass and said, “i’m thirty-three.”

he didn’t skip a beat. “even better. i like older women,” he said with an obnoxious smirk, clearly thinking this was the best pickup line in human history. “i’m twenty-one.”

you choked on your laugh, the absurdity hitting you like a slap to the face. meimei couldn’t hold it in either. she bursted out laughing, clutching her sides. shoko dropped her whole tense body and started snorting like an animal.

“oh my god,” you gasped, clutching your chest dramatically.

“nah, for real,” he said, all smug with his unearned confidence and flashing you a crooked grin. "age is just a number, right? you’re hot as fuck. i bet you could teach me a few things.you even look like a milf, sweetheart.”

“kid, you’re still learning how to legally drink,” you muttered, giving him your best deadpan. “don't you have bedtime?”

he just grinned, all cocky. “already graduated, actually. and i'm single.”

before you could figure out how to escape this kid – or an even better line to shut this idiot down – two hands slid firmly around your waist. chin on your right shoulder. yep, there he was, the 6 foot 5 man who was practically crawling up on your back to make this infuriating little frat boy disappear.

familiar. possessive. and you can definitely hear gojo’s fucking laugh even through the loud ass music.

“congratu-fucking-lations, kid,” sukuna’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, smooth and lethal. he leaned in, voice low to whisper against your ear, “s’there a problem here, baby?”

you practically melted against him, relief and smugness washing over you in equal measure. now, this is the golden ticket to freedom.

the frat boy had the audacity to stare sukuna down. “who the fuck are you? take your hands off her.”

sukuna just raised a single, judgmental brow at this stupid college boy who had ego as high as an ant hill.

and of course, your friends were too busy losing their shit, watching this trainwreck unfold like spectators at a live reality show. even toji, who was usually too cool for this nonsense, was straight-up laughing. and gojo was still recording all of this shit while laughing too loud. swear, his asthma might attack him anytime because his laugh is now borderline violent.

“look, just piss off, baby boy,” you grinned like a devil as you crossed your arms with sukuna still hugging you from behind.

and he did NOT appreciate that.

“tch, you’re not even that hot, old bitch.”

oh. oh. this kid’s so dead. nobody’s fucking safe when someone tries to pick a fight with you.

sukuna released his grip just enough for you to stretch out like you were preparing for a fight, cracking your knuckles like you’d been waiting your entire life for this moment.

“you don’t even go that route, kid,” you said casually, stepping forward. and then you fucking slapped him across the face and kneed him so hard in the balls that everyone could’ve heard it.

the frat boy crumpled in on himself down to the floor, gasping for air as his hands went straight to his groin. his face contorted in pain, and for a split second, every person in your vicinity was watching this ridiculous scene.

“hope your jewels can still be passed down to the next generation, sweetie,” you added with a sweet smile, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

and then everything – more like everyone – erupted into chaos.

gojo, still holding his phone, burst into uncontrollable laughter. "holy shit, i’m definitely saving that one for later," he snickered, barely holding it together. "this is gold.”

shoko clutched her stomach, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, while yuki simply shook her head, her eyes sparkling with unfiltered amusement. meimei was fucking clapping like she just watched an opera.

toji smirked, raising his glass as if in salute. "that's what you get for trying to hit on a woman who's been married to a literal demon.”

choso, ever the quiet one, sipped his drink, watching the scene unfold like it was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. while geto was quietly smoking his joint (you don’t even know where he got that from).

and sukuna? he just stood there, a flicker of amusement flashing across his face, though he didn’t say anything at first. the corners of his lips quirked up, just enough for anyone who knew him to catch it — he was fucking entertained. his eyes lingered on the frat boy, crumpled in a heap, hands clutching his junk like he just met the wrong person.

“you’re a goddamn menace,” sukuna drawled to the boy on the floor, voice low and silky, though there was something dangerous dancing beneath it.

his gaze shifted back to you, and the way his lips curled could’ve been mistaken for a grin if you weren’t paying attention to the warning in his eyes. “baby, you could’ve just let the kid walk away, but nah. had to go full savage on him.”

you smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against him. "what, you don't like me owning the night?”

his grin deepened, though there was a possessiveness behind it that made your heart skip. "you think i'm bothered by it? sweetheart, i love it when you make a show of your chaos. just means i get to clean it up." his hand slid lower around your waist, tugging you closer.

the frat boy whimpered at his feet, and you tilted your head with mock sympathy. “you really thought you had a chance, huh? i’m married to a fucking demon, sweetie.”

sukuna’s eyes flashed darkly, his voice cold and lethal. “you should’ve known better than to fuck with her. now you’re lucky if you can walk outta here without me breaking your legs.”

gojo’s laugh could be heard across the floor, loud and obnoxious. “yo, i gotta save this for future blackmail,” he cackled, still recording with that goddamn grin plastered on his face.

the rest of your crew was losing it too. shoko snorted, clutching her stomach, yuki barely able to breathe between fits of laughter. meimei shot you a wink, clearly loving the spectacle.

"you really are a milf," yuki teased, eyes twinkling like she was seeing the real power you wielded.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin creeping up. “yeah, i’m a milf,” you said, leaning back into sukuna’s embrace. “deal with it.”

sukuna, still holding you close, watched the wreckage unfold and let out a soft, dark chuckle. "the things i let you get away with," he muttered, as the frat boy finally dragged himself away, still groaning.

you were high on the chaos, on the way your demon didn’t even need to lift a finger. "you love it," you said with a knowing grin.

he looked at you and whispered against your ear, “you bet your ass i do, baby.”

—

a/n: lol this was actually just supposed to be a short drabble 😭😂 but took me almost 3k words aaarrgh aodjidjsk and this was based on a tiktok i saw 😭😭😭

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #husband sukuna #jjk #writing #au sukuna #jjk x y/n #not proofread lolz

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dismalflo · 29 days ago

Text

all the reasons we're not in love

James potter x fem!reader ✩ 4.6k words

summary: You and James are best fucking friends—nothing more, nothing less. So why does everyone act like you're secretly in love, like it's some kind of undeniable fact?

cw: fluff, a pinch of angst, steamy makeout but no smut, best friends to lovers, idiots in love.

James gets up from the booth and leans down to ruffle your hair just because he knows it’ll annoy you. All sat around a too small booth in the back of the pub with a few chairs pulled up to accommodate the large group. It’s James' turn to buy a round, and you make a show of swatting his hand away as he goes, tracking his movements all the way to the bar.

You have a second to take in the dingy lights and the rowdy regulars in the local before Lily scares you half to death, leaning into your field of view. Eyes alight with mischief and an impish smile on her lip.

“So…” she says, dragging out the vowel, “what's going on?”

“What's going on with what?” you laugh, confused but delighted by Lily after a few drinks.

“You and James!” she practically squeals, shaking your arm with gleeful energy. “You’ve been giggling like schoolkids all night. He had his arm around you! Just admit it already—you like each other.”

You groan. “Lils, we always do that.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, clearly fed up with your refusal to see what she sees. And you? You’re fed up with everyone constantly implying that you and James must fancy each other. As if friendship isn’t enough.

“James and I are friends. That’s—”

“Best fucking friends,” James announces cheerfully, appearing out of nowhere and sliding your drink in front of you before placing the rest in the middle of the table.

“Exactly! Thank you,” you say, gesturing to him like he’s just proved your point.

Lily exhales sharply, throwing you a meaningful look before turning back to the group.

James sinks back into the booth beside you, draping an arm casually along the backrest behind your shoulders

“Try this,” he says, nudging his glass toward you. He’s been working his way through the list of ridiculous specialty mocktails on the menu and insists you sample every one. “It’s strawberry… something. You’ll like it.”

You take a sip. He’s right, obviously—it’s sweet and bright and tastes like summer. You smile up at him, pleased. “That’s really good. I’m getting one next round.”

He grins, radiant. “You can have that one, angel.”

You try to push the glass back, but he doesn’t let you. He’s about to insist again—mouth open, eyes soft—when a familiar voice cuts in.

“Why don’t you share your drinks like that with me, Moony?” Sirius whines from across the table, looking genuinely offended.

Remus sighs—meaning to sound exasperated, probably—but the fond look he gives his boyfriend tells a different story.

“We’ve been drinking the same thing all night, that’s why,” he replies, a smile starting to bloom on his lips. “And…” He glances your way with a teasing glint in his eye. “We’re not an old married couple like them.”

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, barely above a breath, like it's a tragedy, “good thing they’re both fit.”

You let out a loud laugh. “We’re friends—”

“Best fucking friends.”

“—Not an old married couple. And honestly, you can’t say anything, Remus ‘Knitwear’ Lupin.”

“She’s not wrong,” James says with a quiet chuckle, sliding his hand to your back, fingers moving in lazy, absent-minded circles.

Remus only laughs, shaking his head, while Sirius looks scandalized—utterly betrayed on his boyfriend’s behalf.

“I like Rem’s knitwear, Trouble,” Sirius says, fixing you with a glare that would be more effective if his cheeks weren’t flushed from the drinks. “And I’d be very careful, or I’ll convince him to stop knitting your presents. Then all you’ll get are boring gift cards.” He nods solemnly, clearly impressed with his own threat.

You gasp dramatically, hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. “You wouldn’t.”

Sirius just giggles in response—giggles, which is never a good sign—so you turn to Remus, eyes wide, appealing.

“You wouldn’t let him, would you? You’ll still knit me things, Rem?”

Remus chuckles, shaking his head with a smile that promises yes, always.

That’s when you notice James—usually the loudest one at the table—has gone quiet. You turn toward him, curious, and catch the way he’s watching you. Soft eyes. That funny little smile he only wears when he thinks no one’s looking.

“You okay?” you ask, voice gentling with concern.

The question seems to pull him out of whatever haze he was in. His grin returns, bright and easy, like it never left.

“I’m great, angel.” He leans in, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “If Moony stopped knitting for you... I’d learn how to.”

You blink at him. “You? Knitting?”

He nods solemnly, one hand still warm against your back, and raises the other as if swearing an oath. “I’d do it for you. Even if it meant stabbing myself with the needles every five minutes. That’s how committed I am.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. “You’re so dramatic.”

You’re laughing, and your cheeks are warm, and James is still looking at you like you’ve hung the stars—but you brush it off like you always do.

Because this is what you and James do. Banter, teasing, little smiles no one else gets—your own language that you’ve been speaking fluently for years. It’s not new. It doesn’t mean anything.

He nudges your knee with his own, still grinning like he’s won something. Like your laugh is enough.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.

But then Lily shoots you another look across the table, all smug eyebrows and that annoying “I told you so” glint in her eye, and it hits you again like it always does—this sudden awareness of how everyone else sees you. You and James. As if it’s already written somewhere, carved into the stars or tucked between the pages of your shared history.

You take a sip of the strawberry-whatever to stall, trying not to frown. Because the truth is, you know how this looks from the outside. All the little things he does, the way you lean into him without thinking, the endless inside jokes—it paints a picture. A certain type of story.

Because he’s James. And you’re... you.

And no matter how many times Sirius winks or Mary raises a knowing brow or Lily insists you're in love, you don’t think there’s a universe where you and James actually get together. Not really.

You’re best friends. That’s it.

And maybe there’s something sacred in that. Something worth protecting.

Besides—he doesn’t fancy you. Not like that. And you certainly don’t fancy him. No matter how charming he is. Or how warm his laugh makes you feel. Or how he always saves you the last piece of your favourite treats even when he pretends he won’t. Or how he’s looking at you now like he’d burn down the world just to keep you smiling.

No. You don’t fancy each other. That would be... messy. Complicated. The end of everything easy and good between you.

And James Potter may be a lot of things, but he’s not your ending.

He’s your always.

So you take another sip of the mocktail he gave you and bump his shoulder with your own, like nothing ever passed through your mind. He bumps you back, that lazy smirk still on his lips.

The pub starts to empty in waves, voices thinning out as people stumble toward coat racks and lingering goodbyes. You're nestled deeper into the booth than you realized, lulled by warmth and easy laughter and the comfort of being surrounded by your people.

Eventually, someone suggests calling it. Mary’s already halfway into her coat, Sirius is trying to coax Remus into stealing pint glasses for their flat –something about the collection– and Lily kisses you on the cheek with a meaningful look before grabbing Marlene’s arm and disappearing toward the door in a burst of cold air and laughter.

And James?

James is exactly where he’s been all night—at your side, elbow brushing yours every time he moves. When you pull your coat on, he reaches over without thinking and helps tug the hood into place for you.

“You ready?” he asks, and it’s easy, familiar.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving.” You smile, a little sleepy now that the buzz is fading.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t trust anyone else to make sure you get home.”

The drive is quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. Music hums low through the speakers—something you’ve heard a million times over, something James mumbles along to under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening. He’s one of those annoyingly good drivers too. One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely between the seats, fingers drumming to the beat.

You glance over once and catch him mid-yawn, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at the road.

“Wanna come in?” you hear yourself ask when he pulls up in front of your place, your voice softer than you expect. “Just for a bit? I might put on a film.”

James looks at you, searching your face for something. Whatever he finds, it makes him smile—gentler than before. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

You flick on the lights when you step inside, and it’s like muscle memory from there: shoes off, jacket thrown over the arm of the sofa, kettle filled. James leans against your kitchen counter like he belongs there. And he kind of does. There’s a mug he always uses in your cupboard. A hoodie of his in your laundry pile.

“What are we watching?” he asks, already padding into your living room, socked feet silent on the floorboards.

“Something easy,” you say. “Something we’ve seen before so I don’t actually have to pay attention.”

James shoots you a grin over his shoulder. “That for me or for you?”

You ignore the question, toss him the remote. “Dealer’s choice.”

You end up on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled somewhere in the middle because it’s late and it’s cold and this is what you do. It’s not new.

The movie starts playing, dim blue light casting soft shadows across his face. You watch it for a while—or try to—but your thoughts start running at a mile a minute instead.

You try to focus on the movie. Really, you do. But all you can hear is Lily’s voice echoing in your head: “Just admit it already—you like each other.”

It’s not just her. It’s everyone.

Sirius, with his loud, theatrical gasps every time James passes you a drink. Marlene muttering “just kiss already” under her breath like it’s an inside joke. Even Remus, who’s supposed to be the voice of reason, always quirking a brow when James tosses an arm around your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Which it is. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean anything.

But now? Now it’s stuck in your head. Every glance, every smile, every stupid joke he laughs too hard at—it’s all tinged with the weight of everyone else's expectations.

You lean your head back on the cushion and sigh.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” James asks, voice soft and scratchy with tiredness.

You glance at him. His eyes are still on the TV, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he already knows you’re spiraling.

You hesitate, then sit up a little. “Can I ask you something?”

His gaze flicks to you instantly. “Course.”

“Do you ever get… tired of everyone thinking we’re in love?”

James lets out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “All the fucking time.”

You nod, almost relieved. “Right? It’s like—just because we’re close doesn’t mean we’re secretly pining.”

“Exactly!” James says, animated now, like he’s been waiting for someone to validate this. “Like, we literally watched Sirius throw himself at Rem for years and no one said shit, but I pass you a drink and suddenly it’s like—‘When’s the wedding, James?’”

You snort, finally smiling. “It’s exhausting.”

“Truly.”

Silence falls again, but it’s different now.

“I just…” you start, voice quieter. “I wish there was a way to prove it, you know? That we don’t fancy each other. That this—” you gesture vaguely between the two of you “—this is just friendship.”

James raises a brow, half-amused. “You want, like… a presentation?”

You giggle. “Maybe.”

“Bullet points and everything?”

“‘All the reasons James Potter is categorically not in love with me.’”

“‘Exhibit A: the time I ate her last slice of pizza.’”

“‘Exhibit B: he never laughs at my best jokes.’”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

Another beat passes. You look at each other.

There’s a flicker in James’ eyes—just a spark of something you can’t name—and it hits you, sudden and sharp, how close you are. His knee is still pressed against yours. His fingers are brushing your ankle like it’s nothing. Like it always has been.

You lick your lips. Heart hammering. And then—

“…We should kiss.”

James blinks. “What?”

You’re not even sure where the words came from. They just—slipped out. But now that they’re here, they feel oddly right. Inevitable.

You swallow. “We should kiss. Just once. To prove there’s nothing there.”

He stares at you, stunned into silence.

You rush to explain. “I mean—everyone keeps saying there is. And maybe if we just… did it, and it was awkward or bad or whatever, we could tell them and they’d drop it. They’d finally stop acting like we’re in some secret relationship.”

James is still staring, mouth slightly open.

You flush, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s stupid, forget it—”

“I’ll do it,” he says suddenly.

Your breath catches. “You will?”

He nods, slowly, like he’s still catching up with himself. “Yeah. If it’ll prove a point.”

You try to ignore the way your pulse spikes. “Right. Okay.”

With the room still mostly shrouded in darkness, it's difficult to make out the features of his face clearly. He shifts closer to you whilst manoeuvring your legs to settle beside you properly. There's little time to recognise the shift in his gaze as it pins to your lips before he's grinning and speaking again.

“What happens when you fall in love with me because of this?”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “Your ego’s fucking massive Potter, I’ll be fine.” you say, gently slapping his arm. “Not sure about you though.” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you, acting like you're the biggest nuisance in the world.

“Come on then.” you say, impatiently. James sighs, then nods, before he's raising a hand to cup your jaw. His touch is gentle, like he's holding something fragile, priceless. And then he's leaning in so slowly, allowing you the time to pull away in case you’d been joking.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as your hand drifts to rest on his knee. You don’t notice the faint hitch in his breath at your touch—it’s so subtle, it nearly slips past you. The kiss comes and goes in a heartbeat, a fleeting, chaste peck that barely brushes your lips. When his hand pulls away and he clears his throat, your eyes open. He doesn’t say a word.

Despite the fact you should feel happy that you felt nothing, there's a strange twisting feeling in your stomach. Like when you startle awake after dreaming that you're falling. Then it comes to you, that kiss wasn’t a real one it can’t prove anything.

“That wasn’t a proper kiss, James.” you say while looking down at your hands, not wanting to face him.

“You’re right.” you look up to see his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and you're startled by the sudden fascination with his mouth.

“You have to kiss me like you’d kiss someone you're in love with.”

James’ gaze drops to your lips and stays pinned there as he’s silent, thinking.

“I can do that… I think.”

“Come on then.” you joke as you take a deeper breath in.

James exhales, slow and steady, but you can see it—the way his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s restraining something. Like there’s a weight behind your words neither of you wants to name just yet.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice quieter now, with none of that usual cocky lilt. It’s careful. Measured. He’s giving you one last out.

You nod. “It’s just a kiss.”

But it’s not. You both know that. It hasn’t been just a kiss since the moment you suggested it.

Still, you say it anyway, because it’s easier to pretend it’s simple.

James shifts closer, knees brushing yours again, the space between you shrinking by the second. His hand finds your jaw again—just like before—but this time his thumb lingers at your cheekbone, the pad of it brushing soft circles that make your heart lurch. There’s something almost reverent in his touch now, like he’s memorising every inch of you.

When he leans in this time, it’s slower. Like he’s moving through water. Like the world around you doesn’t matter anymore.

And when he finally kisses you, it’s nothing like the first time.

It’s not hesitant or performative or brief. It’s warm and aching and real.

James kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. Like this isn’t about proving anything or making a point—it’s about you. About this.

His lips are soft and sure against yours, and when your hand slips up to grip the front of his jumper, he deepens the kiss with a low hum in the back of his throat, like he’s been holding that sound in for too long.

One of his hands slips down to your hip, shifting you closer, settling you on his lap. You go willingly, knees digging into the sofa at either side of his thighs as he tilts his head back to reach you better. Completely lost in each other, forgetting, you’re sure your lips will soon turn numb.

Your hands drift upward to settle around his neck and lightly tug the hair at the nape of his neck. James pulls you closer by the waist, chests flush and his mouth remains probing and searching on your own.

There’s the feeling of a smile in the kiss but you can’t tell who’s it is. You’ve fallen into a steady rhythm, easy and sweet, but when a noise is pulled from his throat you freeze, pulling away.

Looking down at him your face sits somewhere between concern and confusion. James stares right back at you panting, but otherwise seemingly unaffected.

“Forgive a man for getting distracted, angel.” he defends, like it's all your fault.

You know you should move away from him now. Really, you know. But there's a strange standoff happening where neither of you look away and neither of you move. Until you do.

It's hard to tell who moves in first, but the other reciprocates and you’re kissing again. James kisses you like a man starved. It's feverish and intense. It's everything.

You can’t help but grab hold of his hair, curls silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. It makes James shamelessly grind up against you. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down against him.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin. You flush at the idea that he can’t contain himself because of this. Because of you.

When he pulls away, finished ravishing your neck, you come back down to earth, scrambling to remove yourself from his lap. His hair is messy, messier than usual, from your touch and his lips are red and kiss bitten.

You look to the far corner before you speak, unable to look at him now.

“... I guess we’ve proved we don’t fancy each other, then.”

You’re a liar and you know you are.

It’s been two days since the kiss. Two long, excruciating days where you haven’t spoken to James once. Not a text. Not a call.

You’ve replayed that night over and over in your head, hoping it would start to blur around the edges, lose its sharpness. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s crystal clear—every touch, every sound, every look he gave you. And worst of all? You don’t even regret it.

You’re halfway through nursing a lukewarm coffee at the back corner of a café when Sirius slides into the seat across from you like he owns the place, all leather jacket and smug grin.

“Oi,” he says, tugging your cup toward himself and taking a sip without asking. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

You blink, startled. “Us?

As if summoned, Remus appears beside him, calm and neat in that way that makes you feel even more frazzled by comparison. “She’s definitely been avoiding James,” he says, not unkindly, as he slides into the seat beside Sirius.

Sirius throws an arm around Remus’ shoulders with dramatic flair. “And thus—by extension—the rest of us, tragically caught in the crossfire of whatever the hell is going on.”

You frown. “Nothing is going on.”

Sirius lets out a loud, derisive snort. “Right. Tell that to James, who has been moping around the flat like a Victorian widow.”

“I’m serious,” you say quickly.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “So are we.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on. He’s not moping.”

Sirius levels you with a look, all theatrics dropped. “He didn’t even yell at me for eating his last bag of crisps yesterday. He just sighed. Like—actual sadness sighing. Who even does that?”

Your heart sinks, but you try not to let it show. “He’s probably just… tired. He drove me home from the pub that night, maybe he’s still catching up on sleep.”

Sirius and Remus share a look.

Remus tilts his head. “That’s the night it started, you know.”

“I told you,” Sirius says, grinning now like he’s cracked a case. “Something happened in that car. Or after. Did you two fight?”

“No,” you say quickly. Too quickly. “Nothing happened.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at you. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“I’m not lying,” you lie.

Remus leans in, voice quieter now, more careful. “We’re not trying to corner you. Just… we’re worried. About both of you.”

You take a long sip of your coffee, trying to buy time, but it’s cold and bitter and doesn’t help at all. You stare into the cup like it holds the answers. It doesn’t.

Sirius softens, which is somehow worse. “Look, we’re not asking for details. Just—maybe talk to him?”

You sigh. “I don’t know what I’d even say.”

“Try the truth,” Remus offers gently.

The truth is a mess, though. The truth is a blur of lips and hands and breathless gasps. It’s James’ eyes on yours in the dark, his fingers brushing your cheek like he was afraid you’d vanish. It’s the way you didn’t sleep that night, couldn’t sleep, because your skin still remembered the shape of his touch.

And the worst part? The worst part is you know what you felt wasn’t one-sided.

Sirius glances at his watch. “If you don’t call him, I’m sending him to your flat.” He threatens, leaving no room for argument.

You don’t call him.

You want to—God, you want to. You’ve picked up your phone half a dozen times just to stare at his name, thumb hovering over the call button like it’s going to electrocute you. But every time, something stops you. Some awful cocktail of fear and guilt and what-if. What if it was a mistake? What if he regrets it? What if he doesn’t, and you’re the one who ruins everything?

So you don’t call. You sit with the silence and let it suffocate you.

It's nearly midnight when there's a knock at your door.

Your heart jumps into your throat. For a second, you think about ignoring it, pretending you’re asleep, but you already know who it is.

You open the door anyway.

James is standing there, hoodie thrown on as if he’d left in a rush, curls messy and damp like he’d just run his hands through them a thousand times on the way over. His eyes flick across your face like he’s checking to make sure you’re real. Like he didn’t quite believe you’d actually answer.

He looks tired.

You swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoes, voice low.

There's a silence. Tense. Tight. It stretches between you like a rubber band pulled too far.

“I wasn’t gonna come,” he says eventually, shifting on his feet. “Told myself you’d call. That I’d give you space.” He pauses. “But I waited. And waited. And you didn’t.”

Your chest aches.

“I know,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t.”

James steps past you without asking. You don’t stop him.

He makes his way into your flat like he always has- it’s muscle memory. Like he belongs here. And God, maybe he does.

“I’ve been losing my mind,” he says suddenly, turning to face you. “I thought we were okay and then it’s like you disappeared. No texts. No calls. Like it didn’t mean anything.”

“It wasn't supposed to mean anything, James.” you snap.

He flinches, like you’ve slapped him. You immediately regret it.

“I didn’t mean—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You didn’t mean for it to mean anything,” he says, voice low. “But it did.”

You exhale shakily, crossing your arms like they can shield you from this. “We said it was just a kiss. To prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

You glance away, blinking too quickly. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “It’s not fair that I kissed you and everything changed and you’re acting like it didn’t.”

You hate this. Hate how right he is. Hate how vulnerable he looks standing in your living room like he’s afraid to breathe too hard and scare you off.

Your voice is quiet. “I didn’t know what to say.”

He’s quiet a beat. Then:

“Say anything.”

You hesitate. Your throat feels too tight. But then you force yourself to look at him, to see him.

“I love you,” you say. “And I don’t care if it’s wrong, I just do.”

James exhales, a slow, shaky breath like he’s been waiting for this—like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get it. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, firmer now. “I love you and I’ve been trying not to. Because I thought it would ruin everything.”

He steps forward, hands gentle as they come to rest at your waist. “I’ve always loved you, I think.”

It breaks something open in your chest. This is real. This is terrifying. This is everything.

“But what if we mess it up?” you ask, voice trembling.

James gives you a soft, crooked smile—the one that’s always undone you. “Then we mess it up. Together.”

You laugh, a watery, disbelieving thing, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in.

And when he kisses you this time, it’s not tentative or desperate. It’s steady. Sure. Like he knows you’re his.

Like he always has.

masterlist <3

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james potter drabble #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter

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bisexualtwinkk · 5 months ago

Text

don’t make it obvious s.r

flirty!reader x early seasons spencer reid

Summary: Morgan just can’t believe you actually flirt with spencer.

a/n: My first fic! I still can take season 1 spencer out of my mind, that’s all. And also, I love to imagine him all flustered and shy. xoxo NEW PART POSTED AND PINNED ON MY PROFILE

“I just think you do all this as an entertainment, pretty” morgan said looking across the bullpen, more specifically to the 6’1 nerdy man with the prettiest honey-like eyes.

“shut up, morgan, I’m tired of explaining the same thing to all of you” a sigh escaped my lips while I arranged all the paperwork we had left after a horrible case of human trafficking in D.C.

“what thing are we talking about? ‘cause if we are talking about the missing cookies, garcia took them” prentiss said sitting on top of the desk besides mine.

“we are talking about the not so secret crush our best dressed agent here” morgan pointed at me, making my laugh a little, “as on our I dress like a grandpa doctor”

“oh my god, dereck, that is so superficial of you to say! and is not a secret crush, I like to say nice things to my friends , you say things way out off line to garcia and no one bats an eye, but if I flirt a little with spence everyone goes crazy ”

“sorry honey, but if you think you can hide something while working around profilers, you are very wrong” prentiss taped my nose and standing from the desk.

“you guys make me sick, you know that? I’ll go to spend time with my favorite friend’ I grabbed my coffee and walked to spencer’s desk, escaping the teasing from my coworkers.

spencer was too busy writing to notice when I sat on the desk beside him. his hair was slicked back, making his face look even more sculpted, and prettier, than usual. he was wearing a simple white shirt and a black tie, a casual and comfortable look.

“hi, spence, sorry I didn’t come earlier to talk, handsome, was kinda busy with the pile of papers on my desk” he blinked rapidly when the word handsome left my mouth.

“H-hey” he coughed a little, “don’t worry, I can help you if you want, did you now that a higher percentage of women report feeling burned out compared to men at their level? I don’t mind helping you, as long as you want, of course” spence spoke quickly, making me smile.

“if you want to spend time with me you can say it, you know? I really love spending time with you, spence” I played with the end of his tie, watching his addam’s apple move and his face turning an adorable shade of pink. “and thank you, I accept your help, you are the best spence” I give him a quick peck on the cheek while walking away and seeing morgan with a smirk on his face.

“try not to make it that obvious next time” he pushed me in a playful way, laughing at my, more than spencer’s, red face.

“shut up, morgan”

I’m totally screwed by that man, I swear.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer season 1 #criminal minds #dr reid #shy spencer #x reader #derek morgan #fanfic #blurb #fluff #spencer x femme reader #female reader #flirt reader #fem reader

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cosmosluckycharms · 2 months ago

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Bug Like Angel

Till you tell me to leave

As you made your way to the living room, you looked at the long, gothic walls.

You saw all the family portraits.

The same ones you'd been forced to take.

In all the pictures you were in, you had a completely different style than the others

Damian was always telling you to dress a sort of way, just so you could be left out.

Ouch.

It got to a point that Bruce had assumed you were doing this on purpose, just to get attention.

So, he stopped bringing you to get the portraits done.

Thinking about that made you pissed, so you decided to put your mind to something else.

You couldn't wait to get the movie night over with, you could probably sneak away near the end and go a someone else's universe.

You calmed yourself down so the others didn't get suspicious and made your way to the living room.

You saw everyone sitting down, except for Dick, who was probably in the kitchen, getting snacks.

Everyone was talking and not noticing you, you were glad.

As soon as you turned around and were about to make your way back to your room, you heard it.

"Birdie!"

Dick.

You turned around on your heel, your spidey senses helping you dodge Dicks bear hug.

You saw how for a split second he had a slight face of shock, his blue eyes widening.

He put his hands on his hips. "And where do you think you're going?"

You tried your hardest to put on a poker face. You didn't want him to know you were slightly intimidated by him.

Sure, you weren't scared, or terrified, as you once were.

You were stronger now, everyone knew that, but now you didn't have the comfort of your friends to keep you grounded and safe.

"I, uhm, went to get a bottle of water. I'm thirsty." you lied through your teeth, you just wanted to get away from them.

Dick raised an eyebrow "From where? I just got back from the kitchen."

"From my mini fridge." you weren't exactly lying, you did have a mini fridge from years ago when you decided you didn't want to burden everyone by getting necessities like food and water.

His eyes lit up as if he just had a lightbulb moment. "Don't you think all those snacks and drinks are expired by now? We could go to get some more together!"

"No thanks." you shut it down before he got any ideas "I like going shopping by myself."

Before Dick could protest, you heard Tim's voice.

"Can you guys shut up and sit down?" he was clearly annoyed.

Before you knew it, Dick dragged towards the couch, patting the seat next to him.

You pretended to not notice him patting the seat and made your way towards the seat at the end of the couch.

You hesitated to sit down there, you weren't used to being invited to family hangouts.

You could feel everyone's judgemental stares towards you, you knew basically everyone but Dick and Bruce still didn't want you around.

You sat down by yourself while everyone was huddled up together.

You glanced at Dick and saw how saddened he looked that you didn't sit with him.

You could almost feel bad for him.

"Time to choose the movie." Alfred placed the remote on the glass table, and before you knew it everyone but Bruce, Alfred, and you were fighting with the controller, pushing, pulling, and punching.

You could almost laugh at how silly this was.

You almost felt like part of the family

Bruce watched as you had a sad smile on your face, and got an idea.

"Let Y/N get a chance to choose this time."

Suddenly everyone that was fighting froze in place. You suppressed a chuckle at how stupid it was.

Jason begrudgingly passed you the controller, somewhat aggressively.

You started scrolling through the movies trying to find one to watch.

You could hear the others whispering to each other, obviously a little mad they didn't get to choose.

You got nervous and took a minute or two picking one.

Everyone was getting impatient.

You finally found the movie you had been wanting to watch for a while.

One that you never got to finish.

Scary movie.

Literally, that's the name.

You clicked on it, and all the memories flooded back.

You and the other spider kids decided to sneak out to the movies.

You were walking towards the entrance of the theater, holding Peni's hand.

Gwen was holding hands with an obviously smitten Miles.

Pav was secretly taking a picture of them.

It was so cute how he had a crush on his own girlfriend!

Peni was holding your hand, and holding Margos in her other hand.

You had Bruce's credit card in your purse, which also had a bunch of snacks you were gonna sneak in.

Hobie was standing next to you.

You and he had yet again raided a 7/11, this time you hid the snacks in his hair.

Every time he took a step or slightly moved, you could hear the crinkles and crackles of the snack bags in his hair.

You tried not to laugh when you both made your way past the ticket booth and security.

While the others were discussing what they thought the movie was gonna be about, they felt a strange silence.

One that was only there for around 15 seconds.

One that was usually filled with laughter and joy.

Peni looked confused for a moment before asking, "Where did Y/N go?"

Before you knew it, everyone started scattering around looking for you.

Hobie and Pavitr both looked inside some of the theaters, maybe you snuck into a theater?

You weren't there, so they kept looking.

Margo and Peni were looking in the security cams, only for them to be broken because a certain someone (Hobie) 'accidentally' webbed them in a penis shape.

Gwen and Miles looked in the parking lot, maybe you went to get something from the car?

They all decided to meet up together to find you.

As soon as they got to the lobby, they found you buying all the overly expensive snacks and giving them away to other families.

Peni ran to you and tackled you in a hug "Y/N!" her tackle somehow managed to throw you onto the ground

You hugged her back, slightly confused "Hey guys!"

Margo offered you your hand "We were so worried about you!"

"Why? I was gone for like, two minutes!" you chuckled, taking her hand

Gwen dusted off a piece of chocolate from your cheek, presumably from a chocolate bar you had around half an hour ago "I swear, we need to put a harness on you!"

"Oh c'mon, don't you guys think it was a little overkill to go around panicking looking for me?" you playfully punched the side of gwens shoulder, smirking

"One time we thought you went missing for a week only for you to be on an earth no one is allowed in and somehow made a horse army?" Miles crossed his arms in a way that sort of reminded you of his mom.

Pavitr nodded "One time you didn't reply to any of us for a month because your phone was dead and you lost the charger, and you also lost your watch somehow, so you were literally off the grid"

"One time we were at the mall and I turned around for a minute and somehow we found you across the mall at a petstore." Gwen added

"This is my life and y'all are just living in it." you dramatically put your hands on your hips, which made Peni giggle.

"Just to let you guys know, the movie starts in like, 3 minutes and we haven't made it to our seats." Margo pulled up the tickets from her pocket

You all looked at each other and booked it to your seats.

You all made it just in time, the trailers had just ended.

The movie was good, but what made it great was all your friends around you.

Hobie was asleep, his legs leaning on the chair in front of him.

Peni had her head on your shoulder, watching the movie.

Miles and Gwen were playfully throwing popcorn at each other and Margo was the only one 100% focused on the movie.

After that, it was all a blur.

All you can remember is an anomaly coming in and wrecking everything.

You and the others had to fight off the anomaly together, and secretly bring it to the society without the spider parents knowing.

Unfortunately, that meant you never got to finish the movie.

You smiled at the memory, which surprised the others because a jumpscare had just happened.

"L/N, why are you smiling?" Damian asked, his green eyes squinting at you.

"Nothing, I just remembered something funny. Also, I don't use L/N anymore, I go by O'hara now."

Bruce grabbed the controller from your hands and paused the movie.

"What?" you saw his eye slightly twitch

"Yeah, don't worry about it." you tried to unpause the movie, only for the controller to be barely out of reach

"Did he make you change your name?" Dick got up and questioned, standing next to Bruce

"no, he didn't force me, I'm attached to him like a parasite. He's never getting rid of me." you joked, nervously. You just wanted to go back to your room.

"How exactly did you change your name?" Bruce put his hands on his hips

"surprise adoption." you fidgeted with your bracelet out of nervousness,

"what does that even mean?" Jason spoke up, turning his head to look away from his phone and instead at you.

"I got hurt one too many times, and while I was delirious I asked him for probably the millionth time if he could adopt me. he obviously couldn't, so we met halfway and he let me have his last name." you said casually.

Suddenly dick and Bruce were scolding you.

You pretended not to be affected, and just got up and stomped back to your room.

You locked the door and started crying.

You could lie and say that you didn't care about them, but the truth is that their yelling at you made you feel 10 years old again.

You felt like the same kid that was ignored and pushed around by them.

You just wanted to go home.

Suddenly, you heard a slight buzzing.

You looked for where it was coming from and saw it was coming from under your bed.

You looked under your bed and saw it was your watch.

You quickly typed Hobies universe number and left.

As soon as you got there, you made your way to his trailer.

You knocked on the door and made your way inside through the window.

As soon as you got in, you sat down on his chair that could spin.

You tried to go on your phone to check the time, only to remember you left it on your bed earlier.

Hobie walked in, holding a cup of water "Coulda’ just used the damn door, you know."

You spun around in the chair playfully "I don't believe in using doors!"

"Good. Neither do I. Doors are overrated." He leaned on the wall next to him.

You guys fell into silence. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one.

You stood up, stretching "Wanna get outta here?"

"thought you'd never ask." Hobie grabbed his guitar, and you both walked out

Your family was at the dinner table.

Dicks leg was shaking, and Bruce was staring at the spot you were supposed to be seated at.

Everyone else's conversations were still going on, but there was a slight linger of your perfume there.

It was ironic that even after years most of your family didn't notice you were gone.

They were halfway through their meal when a portal popped up close to them.

Their eyes all widened as you fell in your suit, crashing into the fancy glass table, fighting a green goblin, Hobie not far behind.

While you were trying to push Green goblin back into the portal, you looked around to see your whole family looking at you, concerned.

"For fucks sake!" you punched Green goblin and you both fell into the portal again.

This just left your family with more questions than answers.

As they studied the now broken glass table, they also thought about the portal you fell through.

How many times has this happened?

How many times have you gotten hurt and they hadn't noticed?

A couple of minutes later, they watched as you and Hobie both fell through another portal, this time without the green goblin.

You flopped onto the floor and Hobie flopped onto the couch.

Dick started running to you about to ask if you were alright, only to hear you start laughing out of exhaustion.

Hobie got up from the couch and helped you get up.

You realized your family was in the room, and decided to introduce Hobie to them.

You grabbed his wrist "Uhm- this is Hobie, uh, is my friend.

"Your family watched as you nervously fidgeted with hobbies studded bracelet.

Everyone stared at you awkwardly, and you just started walking to your room.

"Y/N-" Bruce started

You ignored him and started walking faster.

After an hour or two, there was music blaring throughout the manor that vibrated through the floor.

Everyone could hear it despite having earplugs in.

It was time to put an end to this.

Jason started making his way up to your room, preparing himself for the worst.

He didn't even bother knocking, he just made his way in.

He expected to see you both sneaking out, smoking, or just anything bad as an excuse to kick Hobie out.

Only to see you and him gossiping and giggling while you were putting makeup on him.

Jason tried to make out what you guys were saying, but it was impossible due to the loud music.

Your spidey senses went off and you both looked at Jason.

Dick slightly flinched at you both looking at him in sync.

"Can you guys put down the volume? No one can sleep and it is 1 am." Jason put his hand on his neck

"Yeah, my bad." you put down the volume and continued gossiping with Hobie.

You felt his stare on you as he stood next to where you were sitting on the bed with Hobie.

You raised an eyebrow at him "Can we help you?"

He sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away from Jason and move closer to Hobie.

The room fell into an awkward silence until he finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

"Jeez, can they hop off my dick for once?" you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"tell me about it."

You started falling asleep towards 3 am.

You were trying to stay awake despite it being late at night (or early in the morning?)

Either way, you ended up falling asleep while leaning on Hobies lap.

Hobie smiled as he picked you up bridal style and tucked you into bed.

It wasn't the first and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

He kissed your forehead and left through the window.

An hour or two later, Dick went to check up on you, only to see you peacefully sleeping in bed.

You had a black lipstick stain from Hobie on your forehead.

Dick frowned from that but started making his way out of the room.

That was until something caught his eye.

A guitar.

Not like the one you had, this one was red and had..unique stickers...

He grabbed it and made his way out of your room.

He could ask you about it the next morning.

i have a headache help

this took SO LONG im so tired help

this is ass lmfao sorry its so rushed it felt not rushed while writing it help

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou @whiskeygirl7 @seemeee3 @inojinieeee @oliviaewl @djpuppy-kittens @w31rd3rg1rl @br33zy-blizzardz @eyeless-kun @strangelymid @twismare @cat-lover-over-9000 @jaemindontberude @galaxypurplerose @paastaboi @senhoritaapple @whiskeygirl7 @chezze-its @toastloverr @antov828 @mirai-in-the-headspace @vanilliona @anuttellaa @the-dumber-scaramouche @writing-flower @otterluver05 @wizzerreblogs @mycatateit @icryat2 @lunamonkeypower @1abi @ghost-Orch1d

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lemonlover1110 · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀!

Sylus

Pairing: Sylus x f!Reader

Summary: You leave a memento for Sylus before your business trip

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Oral Sex (m. receiving), FILMING (aka they make a sex tape), Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Cockwarming, Nipple Play, Praising

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Sylus gets pouty when he realizes you’ll be gone for a week. He doesn’t know how he ever survived without you. The thought almost seems impractical now.

The issue with Sylus is that you notice he’s upset, but nobody else does. Sylus successfully manages to suppress any and all of his feelings. To everyone else he looks normal, but you notice that something is off with him. His lips are slightly pursed together instead of being in their typical straight line. His eyebrows are more together than usual, and you can’t help but notice how he subtly wrinkles his nose when you mention that you’ll be gone for a week.

He’s upset, but every time that you mention it Sylus completely denies it. He typically laughs, as if you’ve told some sort of joke when you’ve simply pointed out your observations. He keeps up the facade that he’s a big and strong man that won’t get upset by his girlfriend leaving him; even if it’s with you. You won’t push the matter though, if he claims that he isn’t upset then he’s not upset.

“Is everything packed?” Sylus asks, staring at the pink bag that contains all of your stuff for the week. Sure, it’s big but not enough for a week’s worth of clothes and necessities. It surprises him when you nod. “Sweetie, I know you aren’t low maintenance…”

“You act like I’ll be gone for a month. It’s just a week, and I’ll mostly be in uniform.” You respond, and you watch as his face contorts. He’s upset. Your eye could twitch at his reaction– It’s not that you’re mad that he’s upset, you’re mad because he denies it. No matter what you say he’ll deny it.

“Right, it’s just a week.” He answers. Comforting yet distressful words.

“But maybe you’re right, in case I need to stay for longer I should pack–” You begin but before you can even finish the thought, the man cuts you off.

“Why would you need to stay for longer?” His words almost come out jumbled from how fast he speaks. He notices how he acts and corrects his speech, “Doesn’t the association have other hunters? Why would they exclusively force you to stay?”

“I’m important at my job, Sylus.” You point out, getting pouty yourself. However, you should be happy. You can see the distress in his eyes by the mere suggestion that you might have to stay for longer. “And since you won’t miss me around, I might just stay longer.”

“You’re more than welcome to.” He crosses his arms, not willing to let you win in this petty game that you have suddenly created.

“Fine.” You frown, grabbing your bag from the bedroom and heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?” He questions as you begin to walk away.

“I’m sleeping in the guest room.” You announce, and you watch as he clenches his jaw; yet, he won’t say a thing. He nods. He’ll let you have your way.

You expect Sylus to be in your room within thirty minutes, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You know him enough to know that he’ll show up to your room eventually, you’re just not sure that you’ll be awake for when that happens. Your eyes are getting heavy, before you know it, you’ll be asleep.

Luckily, at thirty-one minutes, you feel a heavy weight settle in beside you. He’ll continue to deny that he’s upset. But he doesn’t have to admit that he’s upset for you to know– What difference will it make if he admits it?

“Are you asleep?” He whispers as his arm goes over your body, bringing you closer to him. You hum in response, quickly followed by a giggle from you. “Does that mean you don’t want to talk?”

“Will you admit that you’ll miss me?” You ask him as you feel his cold hand going under your shirt, looking for warmth. You nearly squeal at the cold hands, but you’re used to them. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, answering your question in the most unusual manner.

“Who’s going to warm me up?” He responds.

“Mephisto.” You joke, but he can’t find any humor in your words. He’s serious, yet you’re laughing.

“And who’ll keep me company?” He continues while your hand caresses his arm. He’s letting himself be soft, a pleasure that only you get to witness. He’d call it his weak side, but you think it’s his finest trait.

“I’m only one call away.” You remind him, but you understand that it’s not the same. You take his hand out of your shirt and turn on your side to look at him. He’s looking down at you with soft eyes, completely filled with worry.

“I want to see your face.” He says, and your hand goes to his cheek, pinching it.

“Your phone has a camera, silly. You’re always calling me on facetime.” He’s finding issues with anything and everything, all which has a solution. Your lips land on the tip of his nose before you ask, “Is it because you’re going to miss my kisses and undivided attention?”

He stays quiet, and you peck his lips. You kiss him over and over again. You’ll do it until he asks you to stop, but Sylus is never going to stop you. As long as you’re all over him, he’s happy.

“Kiss your hand whenever you miss me.” Your thumb caresses his cheek, and he looks at you with adoring eyes. You press your forehead against his, while his arm brings you closer to him.

“What if I’m missing more than just your kisses?” He asks, and your brows perk up. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s insinuating, but you choose to act stupid. You want to hear the exact words.

“Hmm… What do you mean?” You sit up, batting your eyelashes at him. A smirk comes to his lips, noting the mischief in your eyes. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him while his hands go to your waist.

“You know exactly what I mean, kitten.” He responds, his hands going under your shirt once again– This time, they aren’t looking for warmth; they’re being naughty and trailing up your skin. “What will I do when I need more than your kisses?”

“You have the internet.” You remind him, reaching into his pocket to pull out his precious phone. You input the password, one that so perfectly matches with your birthday, and open the browser on his phone. Before you can begin typing, he snatches the phone from your hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus’ eyes narrow as he stares at the tiny screen. You bite down your lip, suppressing a smirk. His eyes look back and forth between you and his phone.

“I was going to show you where you can go whenever you need a little bit more–” You begin, but he cuts you off. He’s almost offended that you were about to even suggest that.

“Why would I want to watch anyone that isn’t you, kitten?” He raises an eyebrow, and you feel your cheeks get warm at his comment. His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head to look directly down at him. “Do you understand my frustration?”

“It’s only a week.” Your words bring little to no comfort to him. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. It’s not just a week. “What else can I do? It’s my job.”

“I told you that you can always quit– But since you don’t want to do that… Nothing.” He ends up sighing. You’d almost feel bad for Sylus, if he weren’t overreacting. You’ve lost count of the amount of times the amount suddenly disappeared for days on end.

“You’ll survive.” You tell him, as your eyes land on his phone. An idea comes to your mind, but you don’t have the guts to outright suggest it. You peck his lips before you whisper, “If you tell me you’ll miss me then I’ll do you a favor.”

“Which is?” He questions, and he watches your eyes land on his phone. He doesn’t need to be told twice, or in this case, not even once. He moves your hair out of the way and kisses your forehead, lips moving down to the tip of your nose and then your lips. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“Now you can admit it.” You joke, lips landing on his, more intensely than any kiss you’ve shared tonight. His breathing gets heavy, body temperature suddenly rising as he feels your lips on yours. The moment an opening comes to you, your tongue enters his mouth and presses against his own.

His hands roam through your body, going under your shirt and landing on your tits. Fingers circle and lightly pinch your nipples while his teeth bite down your bottom lip before pulling away. Sylus can’t properly enjoy himself before you push his hands away from your breasts,

You grab his phone, opening the camera and beginning the video, before forcing him to take it. You smile at the camera before your hands lift up your shirt, putting on a show for the screen. Sylus’ free hand can’t help itself, quickly fondling your chest.

“Make sure you get my good angle.” You adjust the camera before your body moves down. You begin to kiss his lower abdomen, moving down until his briefs stop you. Your finger hooks under the waist band, pulling down and freeing his cock from its restraints.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a couple of strokes before you spit on it. Your head moves down, tongue circling the tip of his dick, earning a groan from him. He tries to keep the phone still, not wanting to look back at the footage and watch blurry footage, but it’s hard to keep still when he’s so sensitive.

Eyes look up at him as your mouth wraps around his length, taking in as much as you can. You slowly bob your head, each movement earning a sound from the man. You’re putting on a show for him– Making a memorable video for him. It’ll be his most prized possession, yet the most confidential.

“Good job.” He praises, almost out of breath as your mouth gags on his cock. Tears well up in your eyes, his dick too much for you to handle. You’re trying to outdo yourself for the audience, taking all of him while you know that you can’t.

“You’re such a good girl.” He tells you while you take your mouth off his cock, spit coating your chin as you gasp for air.

“Is it good, baby? Will you be thinking of this while I’m gone?” Your eyes are focused on the camera, not even bothering on looking at your boyfriend. Sylus would complain, if his eyes weren’t rolling to the back of his head. Your lips kiss the tip before your tongue circles around his cock again.

His voice gets louder as your mouth sets just the right pace. His breath gets caught up in his chest, slowly losing control. Your hand massages his balls as you watch Sylus’ face contort with pleasure.

Sylus moans your name as his cum hits the back of your throat. He groans as he empties himself inside your mouth. You take your mouth off his cock, making sure to swallow every last drop of his cum and sticking your tongue out so the camera can see how much of a good girl you are.

“Good girl, making sure to not waste a single drop.” Sylus says, his hand going down to your mouth and wiping the corner of your mouth. Your face goes up, lips landing on his own, which he happily receives. When he pulls away, he reminds you, “You have to complete the show, kitten.”

“Put the phone on the nightstand.” You tell him, and while he tries to find the perfect position, you take off your pants. His hands get shaky, desperate to continue. It’s the last time he’ll see you like this for a week, and he’ll make sure to enjoy every single minute.

“Fuck– Fuck!” He curses as the phone falls, something that he’ll have to edit out of the video– Is he seriously thinking about editing his sex tape? He can simply fast forward, but that’ll just ruin his mood.

“Will you hurry?” You whine, getting desperate to feel him inside of you. You can’t wait for him to find the perfect position. Just as he settles the phone down perfectly, you push your panties to the side. You align his cock with your entrance, and slowly settle down on his length. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock fills you up.

“Fuck…” He mutters, out of breath as he feels your cunt wrap around him. As much as he loves your mouth, it truly can’t compare. Oh, he could cry knowing that he’ll only have his hand for a week. He’ll make do with what you’ve given him.

“Oh, fuck.” You moan, adjusting to his dick before you begin to move. You’re bouncing on his cock, setting a slow pace. His hands grip your ass while he lifts his face to bury it between your tits. He’ll make sure to enjoy his last few moments with you; it’s why you call him overdramatic, he acts as if he’ll never see you again. Though, right now you can’t complain about the way he acts. His tongue licks your cleavage before his mouth successfully latches onto your nipple.

Sylus moves his hips, moving much faster than you. You meet him half way, moans getting louder as his cock hits every right spot. Maybe you’re putting on such a show because you want the video yourself, you’ll definitely need it. You grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back which causes him to bite down before pulling away. The pain adds to the pleasure.

“You’re doing such a good job.” You talk to him as if he were a pathetic little pet. A tone of voice which he hates to admit he enjoys. “Are you my good boy, Sylus?”

“Yes.” He admits, sex brain getting the best of him– No, it’s something that he’d admit at any other time with you… Not with people around, but regardless, he’d admit it. “I’m your good boy, kitten.”

You smile, eyes darting directly at the tiny camera that captures the moment. Surely, he’ll deny that he ever said those words but luckily, you have an audience this time around.

“You feel so good.” He tells you, one hand going down to play with your clit. Your breath hitches, your hands wrapping to the back of his neck as your lips land on his. He’s met with pure carnal desire, a side of you that he rarely comes across with. A side that he thoroughly enjoys.

“I’m gonna– Fuck–” You begin as you pull away, but you can’t finish your sentence. You begin to tighten around him, your orgasm rapidly approaching and taking over you.

“Come all over me, sweetheart.” His eyes look down at his cock, watching as your pussy wraps around it. A sight that he’ll be thinking about for 604,800 seconds. His phone will do no justice.

“Sylus– It’s so fucking good!” You’re practically screaming, surely making a spectacle of yourself. You’d make a great actress, that’s for sure. You throw your head back, mouth falling agape as pleasure consumes you.

“Good job, kitten. Good job.” He praises you as your orgasm consumes you and you make a mess all over him. He can’t help but grab the phone and practically show off to where your two bodies meet. It’s a sight that he never wants to forget about.

“Look at you, you made such a mess.” He clicks his tongue, but it’s a mess that he appreciates, especially with how your pussy feels around him. Your lips meet once again, while his thrusts become unregulated.

“I’m gonna come inside you, okay?” He tells you, making you frantically nod in response. Before you know it, Sylus’ seed coats your insides. The man is unwilling to pull out until he makes sure that every last drop of his cum is inside of you– Though that’s hard as it drips out of your cunt and coats his cock.

Sylus makes sure to get one last frame of your pussy, before panning the camera to your face. You smile at the camera, winking before you kiss the lens. That’s when Sylus decides to end the perfect video.

“Is that enough for you?” You ask as you try to lift yourself up from his cock, but his hands hold you down.

“Let’s stay like this for a bit.” You swear you see a pout on his lips once again. He doesn’t want to let you go just yet.

“Fine.” You agree as his lips peck yours ever-so-lovingly.

“I’ll miss you.” He finally admits, and you smile before kissing him again. You had imagined the revelation to be more romantic… But this will make do.

“I love you, Sylus.”

“I love you too.”

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