#but it’s just something I’ve noticed and I hope it clears up a bit in the future

[sevikashairbrush]

SEVIKA X F!READER

-no warnings just pure fluff

“YOU MAKE ME FEEL… AT HOME.”

The bar was lively that night, packed with regulars and a few unfamiliar faces, filling the place with laughter and the occasional clash of tankards. Y/n moved between tables, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she poured drinks and listened to customers’ stories. Her soft demeanor and kind eyes were a quiet contrast to the roughness of the bar’s usual patrons.

Sevika stepped in, her presence immediately drawing attention. She was used to commanding the room, but tonight, her eyes drifted past the crowds, drawn to the bartender in the corner—Y/n. Sevika had heard rumors about her, a quiet girl with a heart of gold, and she’d laughed them off. Love wasn’t something she ever had time for. But the moment she saw Y/n, her heart stumbled.

As she made her way to the bar, Sevika watched Y/n work, the gentleness in her movements, the shy glances she gave her customers, her soft “thank yous” and nods. She found herself, for once, a little nervous.

Y/n approached, giving her a warm smile. “What can I get for you?”

Sevika cleared her throat, trying to keep her cool. “Just a whiskey,” she replied, unable to take her eyes off her.

As Y/n poured the drink, a group of drunk men seated nearby noticed her and started making noises—whistles, crude comments, laughing too loudly. Y/n glanced over nervously, her face turning a shade of pink, but she kept her focus on the task, setting the whiskey in front of Sevika with a quiet, “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Sevika muttered, throwing a quick glare toward the men, who were now staring at Y/n with obvious intentions. Sevika took a slow sip of her drink, fighting the urge to interfere.

One of the men staggered over, leaning too close. “Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, “why don’t you come over here and give us a little company, hmm?”

Y/n’s cheeks reddened as she took a step back. “I… I’m just working,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika watched the man with a hardened stare. “I think she’s fine where she is,” she growled, her voice carrying a warning.

The man glanced over, catching sight of Sevika’s glare and the mechanical arm resting on the bar. He muttered something under his breath and retreated, going back to his table with his friends.

Y/n looked up at Sevika, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Sevika shrugged, trying to act casual. “Can’t have idiots like that bothering you. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “I’ve got my own reasons to want your attention.”

Y/n’s face turned pink, and she looked down, fiddling with her apron nervously. “Well, um… what… what kind of reasons?” she managed to ask, her shyness making Sevika’s heart beat a little faster.

“You’re a good listener,” Sevika replied, leaning in closer, her gaze softening. “A little quiet, but… I like that. Makes me feel like I don’t have to be all tough around you.”

Y/n gave a shy smile, her fingers brushing her hair back. “Most people don’t like the quiet,” she admitted. “They think it’s boring.”

“Boring?” Sevika scoffed, her voice low. “I think it’s… calming. And I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me feel…” She hesitated, almost embarrassed to admit it. “…at home.”

Y/n’s smile grew, and she reached out, resting her hand on Sevika’s. Her touch was gentle, tentative, but Sevika felt warmth spreading through her chest. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Y/n murmured.

Sevika chuckled, feeling a rare shyness herself. “Guess I should come around here more often.”

Y/n bit her lip, her gaze meeting Sevika’s. “I… I wouldn’t mind that,” she whispered, her voice full of sincerity.

The night passed, and Sevika stayed, letting herself relax, talking and laughing with Y/n between orders. The world outside the bar seemed to disappear.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!

[phatcatphergus]

Low key hope the admins take the Fred miscommunication as a sign to be more open and communicative with creators bc I feel like sometimes there’s stuff that gets left to the side bc they assume everyone is on the same page when it’s not always the case

[nickfowlerrr]

didn’t know if you’d care if i came back

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: sweetness. tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff fluff fluff. grumpy x grumpy sweethearts who haven’t defined the relationship lol. cuddling. blink and you’ll miss it mention of body insecurities. uhhh if i’m missing something that should be tagged pls let me know!

words: 1.7k

notes: idk where this came from but if you’re noticing repeating themes in my writings - no you’re not.

anyway! thank you in advance for reading, i hope you enjoy. as always, reblogs and comments are welcome and so appreciated! let me know your thoughts 🩵

“Get out,” you speak, your ever present annoyance clear in your voice while your stone face is completely unaffected as you type on your phone, not bothering to so much as glance at the door. You’re comfy in your bed while your space heater hums and you keep typing away as you hear the door click shut once again.

Your blanket is pulled and your bed shifts beneath you as you type faster, working to finish your thought before it slips away completely. Still not looking at anything but your screen,

“Get off my bed,” you demand to no avail.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, his own constant annoyance audible as he easily wraps you up in his strong arms. Your soft body presses against his as you maintain focus on your phone, rolling into his hold while maneuvering your device from hitting him. One last sentence and you’re done. You hit save and then let your phone drop after locking it.

“What happened to hello?” he asks harshly as he holds you close.

“You were busy,” you shrug matter of factly, face in his chest as you get comfortable.

“Look at me,” he demands, forcing you to angle your face to meet his eye as you sigh with a roll of your eyes.

“What?” you humph. “I’ve been gone three days, you haven’t even had time to miss me.”

“I don’t care if you’ve only been gone three minutes,” he squeezes your jaw a bit, eliciting a sharp breath from you as your gaze softens up at him. “If you’re not right next to me, doll, I’m missing you.”

The sincerity and warmth in his normally icy blue eyes has your heart melting just a little more. He missed you… he really missed you?

It’s atypical for you, but you don’t have anything to say in refute as you stare back at him - a part of you waiting to see something that will give him away and confirm your suspicions that he’s lying. The other just wanting to commit that look in his eyes and the gorgeous color to memory.

He missed you.

No one’s ever missed you before…not really.

He came to your room of his own free will, just to see you? He’s holding you so close and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so warm or welcome.

Or wanted.

And he’s not even trying to get you out of your clothes. He’s just here. To be here. To see you. Because he missed you.

He missed you.

“And for the record,” he continues speaking, interrupting your thoughts, “I won’t ever be too busy for you.” His eyes soften even more as he notices the growing emotion welling in them as you work to maintain your facade of careless, feel nothing, grump. He knows the feeling. He knows you.

He brushes his lips softly on your forehead and he feels your fingers tighten ever so slightly in his shirt as you let yourself relax a bit more into him, “Not for you,” he mumbles his promise.

You fight a shudder as you blink your eyes, batting your lashes in an attempt to fight the sting of welling tears before they have a chance to fall. Damn this man and his uncanny ability to have your walls crumbling around him within mere minutes.

You’re still not even sure how this all started. It was one night together on a mission.

And then another night together back home.

And then another.

And another.

And then an afternoon together. And then a morning.

And then a full day.

Into the next.

And then it was sharing beds every now and again.

And dinners.

And then more and more frequent sleepovers. And now it’s? You aren’t sure.

It went from just desperate late night sex to…to whatever this is.

But, whatever it is, you think it might be for the better. Bucky helps you feel…better.

Safe.

Cared for.

Loved.

You push that thought away. That’s just…too much.

Isn’t it?

You cuddle into him despite yourself, nuzzling into his chest for comfort.

“Sorry.”

It’s nearly a whisper, but he hears you. His big hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back as he keeps you to him.

“I wan-,” you bite your tongue, swallowing the lump growing in your throat.

I wanted to, you were going to say, to see you first. Just didn’t want to bug you.

You hear his response in your mind as you thoughtlessly press your lips. ‘You’re not a bug. You’re not a burden.’ You know what he’ll say, and you want to believe him. But you don’t think you can hear him say it right now without the damn breaking.

You try to clear your throat as you let your hands wander him and speak a little louder now,

“I missed you.”

He’s smiling softly, not that you can see it, as he grabs your hand gently caressing his side and brings it to his lips. Your gaze follows the movement curiously before you watch him kiss your hand. Your stomach flutters at the small act of affection.

Bucky tugs you closer and you lift your leg to hook over his, just wanting to be closer, to feel him more.

“And how dare you try to kick me out of my own room,” he scolds.

You laugh, real and true as you shove him a bit. “This is not your room,” you deny.

His toothy grin is infectious as he eyes you. “Oh yeah?” he says, reaching behind you to grab something, “then what’s my pillow doing in here?”

You freeze for half a second, he notices but doesn’t mention it, as your eyes widen ever so slightly. No, you think, you definitely put that back before you left.

You quirk a brow as you turn to see his pillow in his hand before he drops it back on the bed. You know you put his pillow back, and wait…that wasn’t even the pillow you had.

Why would his pillow be in here, unless…

“You slept in here?” you ask, your voice much softer than you intended as you look in his eyes.

His smirk has lightened drastically, but still gently tugs on the corner of his lips as he tries to read your thoughts. He nods a little, breaking eye contact for a quick moment as he wets his lips out of habit,

“I missed you.”

Your own lips quirk at the corner as you feel your heart swell.

“And you were due back here at four this morning,” he adds.

He was waiting for you.

You knew someone at the tower was monitoring the flight itinerary but you’d assumed it was Stark or Fury. Now you know it was him. And your heart somehow feels like it’s gonna burst out of your chest as your tummy tingles with something you don’t think you can actually name.

But it’s good.

Better than good.

Oh god.

Maybe it is love…

He turns to lay on his back and takes you with him as he does.

You groan a bit and try to shuffle off him, not wanting to crush him despite his super soldier status. He doesn’t let you, not that you’re surprised. He keeps his hands on you, one on your bent thigh and the other around your back, resting protectively on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

He loves the feeling of your body on his, revels in your weight resting on top of him - in every circumstance. Your curves, your softness, your warmth.

You.

“Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles, letting his eyes close as he relaxes into the mattress. You sigh, staring at his contented face while his hands gently squeeze you comfortingly.

You watch him for a while, enraptured by his peaceful rest until you really feel his breaths even out. He’s sleeping like a baby as you lay on top of him and you can’t help your disbelieving titter. How this is comfortable for him, you’ll never know.

You let a hand touch his cheek gently, your fingers brushing his five o’clock shadow. You angle yourself to put a delicate kiss on his stubbly jaw. You don’t notice his nose twitch a bit or the tiniest furrow of his brow as you pull away.

Your fingers card through his hair as you admire him. You take a deep breath. If you can feel it, you can say it…

Another stuttered breath. “I,” you start, “I love you,” you murmur softly, sure he can’t hear you. You lean just a touch closer, lips just brushing his cheek. “I really love you.”

You feel a little proud of yourself as you pull away. You said it. You don’t know the last time you told someone you loved them. Can’t remember the last time you really felt it, or felt safe enough to say it. Sure, he’s sleeping, but still. You said it. And if you said it now, you know you can say it again. One day. When he’s awake. When you’re ready. You smile to yourself before you let your head rest on his chest, content now to sleep for a bit too in the comfort of his presence.

Bucky’s heart is beating so damn loudly he’s a little terrified you’ll hear it as you make yourself more comfortable atop him. He wants to squeeze you and tell you how much he loves you too, to kiss you til you’re dizzy and make sure you really understand just how deeply in love with you he is.

But he knows he wasn’t really meant to hear that just now. And despite that, he’s really glad that he did.

Because you love him.

You really love him.

He knows this is new to you, and you’re still trying to get used to it, to figure it all out, despite the fact that there’s no mystery here for you to solve. But he doesn’t mind moving at whatever pace you want or need. After so long, he never thought he’d find this. Never thought he’d feel this again.

And then came you.

You’re his perfect match. And his best friend.

And you love him.

Bucky’s never really felt lucky in his life. But here and now, with you starting to mumble softly as you lay on his chest, trusting him, loving him, well he’d consider himself the luckiest man in the world.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: I'm so excited that y'all loved the first part! Thanks for your enthusiasm, you rock <3

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

WC: 2000+

Part I | Masterlist

“I’m getting hungry.”

Bradley glances at the restaurant sign as he passes it on the interstate, suppressing a sigh. He usually skips lunch on long trips so he can arrive at his destination before nightfall. “I’ll get off at the next exit,” he says.

“Will you?” you exclaim excitedly, as though he’s offered to catch and cook your next meal himself.

Bradley chuckles mildly. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve.”

“You’re so sweet,” you reply, and Bradley eyes you with a grin because he’s about eighty percent certain you’re being facetious.

“What’re are you in the mood for?” he asks as he gets on the off-ramp.

“Something greasy and very bad for my heart.”

Bradley lets out a small laugh. What’s bad for his heart is you sitting next to him being all cute for the next twenty hours straight.

He pulls into the lot of a little diner just off the highway and parks his car while you flip down your sun visor to glance at your reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Bradley tries not to examine you directly and instead just glances in your vicinity. “Better than the truckers, I bet,” he comments, noticing the row of semis at the back of the lot.

You give him an unimpressed look and then push open your door. “I sure hope they have French toast.”

“I thought you wanted something greasy,” Bradley says, walking around the front of the Bronco to join you.

“I want options,” you state, marching forth toward the front doors.

Bradley strides ahead and pulls the door open for you. He can’t say he isn’t looking forward to having a sit-down meal with you, like it’s a date or something. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s almost thrilled at the prospect of the other patrons assuming the two of you are a couple.

You walk through the open door and Bradley stalls for a moment, trying to clear his head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that sort of nonsense. He and Hangman have enough issues without adding Bradley’s crush on his baby sister to the mix. They’ve just begun to mend their bumpy – to say the least – relationship, and Jake would sure as shit not appreciate his colleague developing feelings for his younger sibling.

“You comin’, sugar?” you call from inside.

Bradley, who’s clearly taken too long of a beat, glances at you in a bit of a daze. He’s sure you just called him ‘sugar’ and that has utterly thrown him. He enters after you and gives the hostess a look that he hopes might resemble a polite smile. But his face feels hot and numb at the same time, so he can’t be sure.

…

“I think I’ll get the pancakes,” you muse, flipping through the menu leisurely.

Bradley smiles at you when you’re not looking. “Want to share some things?”

You glance up at him happily. “Can we?”

Bradley chuckles. “Why not? I could go for a pancake. What else should we get?”

Your eyes light up and you instantly refer back to the menu. “Fried pickles.”

Bradley cringes but he’s still amused. “Those’ll go great with the pancakes.”

“I agree,” you respond without a hint of sarcasm. “Chili?” you continue. “Or tacos?”

“Why not both?” Bradley shrugs.

You give him a serious look. “That’s just crazy talk.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”

“I sort of want some pie, though.”

Bradley closes his menu and leans forward into the table. “I’ve already thought of that,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s about to divulge a secret. You lean in too, your bright eyes blinking up at him eagerly. “We’ll get one for the road,” he whispers.

You gasp. “You’re a genius!”

Bradley chuckles, leaning back in his seat proudly. “I won’t deny that.”

…

When the server arrives to take your orders, you let Bradley do the talking, but chime in with little requests now and again; onions on the home fries, maple syrup for the bacon, sour cream in the chili. And Bradley can’t help but delight in the fact that, every time you think of something, you tap his hand that's resting on the table, ‘oohing’ with excitement.

Bradley eyes you with a smile once the server departs. “Maple syrup for the bacon?”

You wave a hand at him. “You’ll see.”

Bradley shakes his head with a smirk. “Not on my bacon.”

“Yeah, my brother warned me that you’re a bit of a square.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Your brother said what?”

You grin at him mischievously. “Don’t worry, I can make up my own mind.”

“Your brother warned me that you’re a bully,” Bradley replies, his smile only getting wider. “And, coming from Hangman, that’s saying something.”

You let out a peal of laughter so exuberant that several faces turn to look in your direction.

“Don’t worry,” he adds when your laughter partially subsides. “I can make up my own mind.”

“And?” you ask with soaring eyebrows. “Have you?”

Bradley hesitates for a moment and then decides to respond in a cheeky manner to avoid any awkwardness. “Not just yet,” he says with a chuckle.

You reach out and lightly smack his forearm. “Stop!”

“I’m joking,” Bradley concedes, grabbing your hand before you can strike him again. “It’s not like you’ve ever hit me to get your way,” he says pointedly.

You shake your head with a smirk and withdraw your hand.

…

“Everything was delicious,” you gush to the waitress as she clears the table. “We had such a wonderful time!”

“Glad to hear that, dear,” the waitress gives you a smile and then winks at Bradley, as though she’s in on some scheme with him.

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in amusement as she walks away and then digs into his pocket for his wallet. “My treat,” he says when you reach for your purse.

“No way!” you exclaim. “You’re already giving me a ride. The least I could do is feed you.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to be your ride.”

“I insist,” you declare.

“I insist harder,” Bradley presses, laying down several bills onto the receipt tray.

You gaze at him pensively and finally slide your wallet back into your purse. “So, you’re stubborn,” you note.

“So, you’re observant,” he remarks.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for lunch, Rooster.”

…

Back on the road, you offer Bradley a turn with the radio, muttering something about not wanting to be a bully by hogging the music. He can tell you’ve said it in jest, but he still wants to make sure he hasn’t offended you.

“You know I don’t think you’re a bully, right?” he says, glancing between your face and the road several times.

You eye him playfully. “Well, give it a minute.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s getting dark,” he notes after a little while. He was hoping to get farther on the first day, but the prospect of maybe spending an extra day with you on the road doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it might have in the morning. “Want to stop for the night?”

“I can drive if you want,” you offer.

Naturally, Bradley overthinks your response. He wonders if maybe you’ve had enough of him and would prefer to get to Texas as soon as possible. “No, no,” he responds. “I can drive. I just thought you might be tired.”

“From sitting?” you quip.

Bradley gives you a flat look. “It’s been a long day.”

You shrug. “It flew by.”

That sets his mind at ease somewhat. A day doesn’t fly by unless you’re having a good time. “I think we should stop,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond, “let’s stop.”

…

“You two lovebirds want the mountain or city view?” the hotel’s front desk clerk enquires with a beam.

Bradley is about to explain that the two of you will, in fact, require separate rooms because you are the absolute opposite of lovebirds, when you respond with, “Mountain, please.”

The clerk hands you a key and Bradley follows you down the hall mutely, with both of your suitcases in tow. He’s not about to dispute your decision to share a room, despite knowing that it’s exactly what he swore he’d avoid doing the moment he laid eyes on you.

You open the door and enter, holding it open for Bradley so that he can bring in the luggage. He sets it down gingerly by the door and straightens his back to look around. The are two double beds against the wall and a large window with a spectacular view of the Santa Catalina range.

You flop down on one of the beds with a contented sigh. “You know what, darlin’? I am tired.”

Bradley watches you climb further up the bed and rest your head on one of the pillows. He’s used to you calling him all sorts of terms of endearment at this point, but it still warms his heart each and every time you do. “No dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he responds, adopting your speaking style on a trial basis.

You lift your head from the pillow. “Let’s just order in?”

You seem unfazed by the fact that Bradley just called you sweetheart. Meanwhile, he’s nearly thrown up from the anxiety it’s caused him. He resolves not to call you that – or any other overly-friendly name – ever again. “Yeah, we can do that,” he responds casually. “Pizza?”

You nod. “With barbeque chicken.”

“You got it.”

…

“Did you always want to be an aviator?” you ask, taking a bit of pizza while dusting crumbs off the bedspread.

The two of you are sitting cross-legged atop one of the beds with the open pizza box between you. Bradley grabs another slice. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to get into specifics, because that means being vulnerable, a state which Bradley does not much enjoy.

“Interesting.”

“What about you?” he asks. “What are you studying?”

“Math.”

Bradley nearly chokes. For some reason, he expected something less cerebral. “Are you going to be an accountant, or something?” he asks with a smirk.

You frown slightly. “I sure hope not.”

“Well, what do you want to be?”

“A good person,” you respond thoughtfully.

Bradley lowers his pizza and stares at you. “You are a good person,” he says hoarsely.

You shrug. “I have my days.”

“I mean, I don’t know you very well,” Bradley reasons. “But you seem great. Much better than your brother.”

You laugh and lower your gaze. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” you say warmly.

Bradley can feel his heart pounding like a double bass drum. The only sweetheart in this room is you and he can hardly keep that to himself. To think that you might be doubting your own integrity is affecting Bradley on a near-physical level. “You’re a good person. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an idiot,” he states.

You smile, still looking downward. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You place your half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and fall back into the pillows, sighing dramatically. “I’m stuffed!”

Bradley, who’s just taken his final bite, mutters around the crust in his mouth. “Me too.” He closes the pizza box and picks it up to set it onto the floor by the bed. Then, he moves to the other bed and lies down on his back with a weary exhale.

“Hey, Rooster,” you call from your bed.

“Hmm?”

“Are you a good pilot?”

Bradley turns onto his side to face you. “I think so.”

“My brother said you were just alright,” you say.

Bradley snorts and throws a pillow at you. You laugh and then stuff the pillow in between your knees. “Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this.”

Bradley adjusts his second pillow under his head and mutters, “You’re welcome.”

“Tomorrow you can choose what you want to listen to,” you say.

Bradley chuckles. What he wants to listen to more than anything is probably you.

“Hey, Rooster,” you say quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Is there any pie left?”

Read Part 3

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

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@avengersfan25

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@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

[shybluebirdninja]

Swipe Right, Bub

Summary: Logan’s usually tough persona crumbles when he gets nervous before your Tinder date, and it’s clear he has no idea how dating apps work.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

Logan wasn’t sure how the hell he ended up here. Sitting at a bar, staring at his phone like it was about to explode, waiting for a Tinder date. Tinder. He hated that damn app. The whole swiping thing made him feel like an idiot. And the fact he’d even gotten matched? Probably a glitch.

But here he was, in a flannel that was definitely not “date night material” and boots that still had a bit of mud on them. Real smooth.

When the door swung open, you stepped in, scanning the room for him. Logan straightened up like he’d just been caught doing something illegal, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled. Shit, he thought, she’s way outta my league. You were looking real nice—too nice for someone like him who smelled like cigars and had seen more fights than anyone should in ten lifetimes.

You waved, walking over, and Logan fought the urge to bolt out of the bar. This was stupid. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing.

“Hey, Logan, right?” you asked, sliding onto the stool next to him.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he muttered, already fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

The awkward silence stretched for a beat, and Logan could feel the sweat gathering under his collar. You looked way too comfortable, like you were doing this for fun while he was sitting there trying not to screw up everything.

“First Tinder date?” you asked, clearly amused by his discomfort.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Somethin’ like that. Ain’t exactly my thing.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” You grinned, leaning in a bit. “You look like the type who’d smash his phone before swiping right.”

“Almost did,” Logan admitted, running a hand through his wild hair. “Had to get the damn app downloaded twice ‘cause I broke the first phone.”

You laughed—like, full-on laughed—and Logan couldn’t help but smirk a little. At least you weren’t bored.

“So,” you started, leaning on the bar, “you’re, uh, not big on technology then?”

Logan shook his head, his fingers tapping the bar in some anxious rhythm. “Last time I trusted somethin’ mechanical, it was trying to kill me. Ain’t a fan.”

“That sounds... dramatic.”

“You’d be surprised.” He took a swig of his beer, trying to calm down the stupid fluttering in his chest. Was he… nervous? He’d fought in wars, been stabbed more times than he could count, but a simple date was making him sweat like a rookie.

You started chatting, talking about your job, your hobbies, how weird the whole dating app scene was. Logan didn’t say much, but honestly, he didn’t mind. You were easy to listen to. You weren’t pushy, not asking him a ton of questions, and it was nice.

But you noticed after a while, because of course you did. “Oh god, I’m just talking your ear off, aren’t I?” you said, looking a little embarrassed. “I haven’t even asked anything about you.”

Logan just shrugged, trying to act casual. “Don’t mind listenin’. You’re good at it.”

Shit, did that sound creepy? He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t think he was being weird.

“You sure? I mean, you probably have way more interesting stories than I do. You seem like the type who’s lived a pretty wild life,” you teased, sipping your drink.

Logan gave a small, gruff chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that.” He didn’t exactly want to drop the “I’ve lived for over a century and fought in every war imaginable” bomb. Not the best first date conversation.

But you just smiled, completely oblivious to his internal struggle. “Well, next round, it’s your turn to talk. Fair’s fair, right?”

“Yeah… maybe,” he muttered, looking away. He wasn’t great at the whole “opening up” thing. He’d rather let you ramble about your dog or how you almost burned your apartment down trying to make pasta. That was easy stuff.

You reached out, patting his arm, and Logan stiffened like he’d just been hit with a stun gun.

“Don’t worry,” you said, with that killer smile of yours. “I’m not gonna grill you. But if you ever wanna share any of those stories, I’m all ears.”

Logan tried to play it cool, but the second you touched his arm, his brain short-circuited. Smooth, real smooth, he thought, glaring at his beer like it was to blame for how awkward he was being.

Just then, your phone buzzed, and you glanced down at it, frowning. “Ah, crap, sorry, work’s calling. Gotta run,” you said, standing up. Logan’s heart sank a little. The night was over, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to not screw things up.

But then, out of nowhere, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. And just like that, the Wolverine—the guy who had metal claws and could heal from a damn nuclear bomb—blushed. Full-on, red-faced, no-way-to-hide-it blushed.

“I had a great time,” you said softly. “Maybe we can do this again?”

Logan, caught completely off guard, could barely form a coherent thought. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you, uh, want. I mean, yeah. Definitely. Next time.”

You smiled, amused at his sudden inability to speak, and gave a little wave. “Cool. I’ll text you.”

Logan watched you leave, still sitting there, his face burning, his heart doing things it hadn’t done in decades. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he muttered to himself, “Holy shit, she’s gonna text me.”

[papercorgiworld]

I think it was love at first sight

Mattheo, Theo, Blaise, Draco and Enzo

You overhear the guys say they’ve been in love with you since the day they met you.

Warning? 10% foul language. 90% fluff. 100% cringe? Maybe. But let's just accept the cringe and live a happy life.

Based on this ask. I hope it’s okay? Happy readings!

Feedback is always welcome!

You were new at Hogwarts and your nerves were wrecking you, but you were lucky to have met Pansy on one of her good days. “Let me introduce you to some of my friends.”

There is no such thing as love at first sight. He repeated the thought again and again, because your smile, your voice, your eyes, the small details of your skin, your figure and the lovely way you introduced yourself… it was messing with his head.

***

You had planned to stay in your dorm for the evening so you could study, but your brain just wouldn’t have it. Finally giving up you decide to head up to the astronomy tower to clear your head. You hear whispers and quietly move up the stairs curious to find out who it is, but before you reach the top you hear your name and stop in your tracks.

Mattheo

“I hate (y/n)! She is so annoying. Constantly asking for attention.” You immediately recognise Mattheo’s loud voice and your heart gets squeezed tight at his angry words. “She’s the quietest girl in our year.” Theo’s calm voice relaxes you. “She’s infuriating!” Theodore chuckles. “I know being reasonable isn’t in your genes, but you’re seriously overreacting, Matt.” Mattheo groans, but seems to calm down a bit. “She’s constantly in mind, it drives me mad.” There’s a silence as Theodore takes a drag from his cigarette. “It’s not her fault, you’re falling for her.” Mattheo takes a few steps back as a defense mechanism. “I’m not falling for her.” Theo stares at Mattheo and Mattheo clenches his jaw, until he can no longer keep it in. “Fuck! I’m in love with her.” Theodore can not hide his amusement as Mattheo curses himself.

“No, seriously Theo, it’s not funny. It’s disgusting. I’ve caught myself thinking about how many children we should have. I’m turning into freaking Enzo, all sweet and giddy.” You bite your lip and feel yourself heat up as Mattheo mentions having children with you. “No worries, you’re not turning into Enzo, you still curse too much.” Mattheo sits down clearly not knowing what to do with himself. “You really have it bad for her?” Mattheo nods and chews on his lip. “Ever since Pansy introduced her to us at the beginning of the year, she’s just- she became my whole world.” It is then that Theodore spots you and an apologetic look forms on your face as you realize you've been caught eavesdropping. Mattheo doesn’t notice the silent interaction between you and Theo as he stares down. “I hate it, because I know I don’t stand a chance with her.” When Theodore doesn’t say anything Mattheo looks up at him. “Do you think I have a chance with her?”

Theodore’s eyes jump from Mattheo to you and back. “Why don’t you ask her yourself.” Theodore says as he signals to the stairs. Your flustered figure appears and Mattheo quickly scrambles to his feet as his heart starts racing at the thought that you might have heard something, leave alone everything. “How-how long have you..?” He leaves you with only half a question and you’re surprised to see this insecure side of Mattheo, but now it’s time for you to fess up. "Quite some time.” Mattheo’s eyes fill with panic and he turns to Theo. “Just throw me off of the astronomy tower, I beg you.” Theodore laughs. “I’ll do you one better, I’m going to leave you two alone.”

With Theodore gone you’re both forced to look at eachother. Mattheo’s hands hide in the pockets of his pants as he nonchalantly makes his way over to you. “So, assuming you’ve heard my whole uhm- rant or confession. Let’s just skip to the last bit, do I have a chance?” He stops only inches from you and adores your blushed cheeks. You rest your hand on his arm and slowly move into him to place a most innocent kiss on his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since Pansy introduced me to you.” In an instant Mattheo is back to being his confident grinning self. He closes the last bit of distance and his hands find their way to your hips. “Also, two children.” You quip and Mattheo smiles, leaning in for an intense kiss. “I was thinking, four.” You laugh at his ambition. “Up for debate."

Theodore

“(Y/n), she thinks she’s some wise ass, but I’ve seen her look at my notes during class.” Enzo just nods, slightly annoyed he had to listen to Theodore complain about you again. You hold your breath as you carefully listen. “And she studies a ridiculous amount to get the same grades as me, so obviously she’s not that smart.” Enzo hums pretending to agree, but he can’t resist a snarky comment. “Too bad Slughorn disagrees with you.” Theo’s eyes roll to Enzo. Who’s side is he on? “Well, she’s dating that Fred guy, so she’s clearly dumb.” Enzo sighs. “They’re just friends.” “Really?” Theodore asks with obvious interest in his voice. Enzo nods. “Good. She’s too pretty and intelligent for a Weasley.” Theodore snares and watches the cigarette between his fingers. “You know the other day some weirdo Gryffindor tried to-“ Enzo sighs. “Ask her out? Yes, you told me. Do you know how often you talk about her?”

Theo frowns as he looks at Enzo’s bored expression. “I know.” Theodore admits and sighs. “It’s just ever since we met her at the beginning of the year, she's been on my mind all the time.” Lorenzo stares at Theodore's defeated face. He was the last guy to talk like this, so Enzo knew it was serious. “She is really beautiful, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.” Theo leans his head back. “It’s not just that. It’s like I want her around all the time as much of a wise ass she can be sometimes. When she isn’t around everything’s just empty.” Enzo stares at Theo and when he notices he immediately shakes his head. “No. It’s not what you think.” Lorenzo can’t help but laugh. “It so is!” “No.” Theo tries to protest. “You are so head over heels for (y/n).” Enzo can no longer hide his amusement and a soft laugh rings through the astronomy tower. “Yes, maybe.” Theo reluctantly admits. “Kinda, have been wanting to ask her out. I even have this whole romantic thing planned out.” Enzo’s happy grin gets on Theodore’s nerves, but he can’t help it. “This is so embarrassing. Enzo, promise me you won’t tell anyone that I’ve been in love with (y/n) since the day I met her.”

Hearing Theo say those words have you gasp and you quickly cover your mouth with your hand. Worried that they might have heard you, you take a step back, but the stairs end up making a lot more noise and you curse yourself. “Someone there?” You hear Enzo call as he comes into view at the top of the stairs. You smile sheepishly. “Who-“ Theo falls silent as pure horror fills his eyes when he sees your blushing face. “Look at the time. I’ve got places to be, bye.” Enzo jumps past you, hurrying down the stairs, but not before giving you a cheeky wink.

When Enzo’s gone you look back at the top of the stairs to see that Theodore has disappeared. You walk up to see him look at the stars as he lights a new cigarette. “Soo, how much did you hear?” He asks as he breathes out. “Enough, but I’m mostly interested in that romantic date you had planned out.” Theo looks you over from head to toe, wary of whether you were messing around or being serious. He gets rid of the cigarette and walks towards you. He loves how your curious eyes follow him and Theo brushes a strand of hair out of your face, carefulling tucking it behind your ear. “I know this small café that’s also a bookstore and there’s cats.” You gasp in excitement, already loving the idea. “But first you have to survive dinner with me.” You purse your lips as you pretend to think it over. “I’ll give it a try, for the cats and the books obviously.” You reach for Theo’s hands and squeeze them as he gets a little annoyed with your playfulness.

“Why must you be such a wise ass?” You smile at him with adoring eyes. “Can’t help it.” You gently push yourself up on your toes to kiss him. The little agitation that was boiling inside of Theo immediately ebbs away as he feels your warmth. It doesn’t take long for Theo’s fire and hunger for you to take over. His hand finds the back of your head keeping you in place as he deepens the kiss sending shivers down your spine.

Blaise

“You think (y/n) and that Weasley guy are a thing?” Blaise asks, pulling Mattheo from his book. Blaise crouches down next to Mattheo who was sitting against a pillar. “Don’t think so.” Mattheo shrugs, but watches Blaise stare in front of him in deep thought. “Why? You interested in her?” Mattheo questions as he wiggles his eyebrows. Blaise looks at Mattheo’s grinning face and throws his head to the side a bit, wondering if he could confide in his friend. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” Blaise’s seriousness has Mattheo close his book. “Sure.” “Ever since we met her on the train that day…” Mattheo silently waits, not blinking, but it takes Blaise a while to find the words and courage. “Damn it, I’m so in love with her.” Blaise is surprised and somewhat relieved that he could finally admit it to himself. “I said don’t laugh.” Mattheo throws his hands up in the air. “I’m not laughing. I’m smiling. I think you two look cute together.”

Blaise rolls his eyes but can’t help, but wonder. Really? “Most of the time I feel like we’re opposites, and yet at the same time I think she’s the greatest person alive. She brings a little sunshine every day. But she’s also weird.” Blaise looks at Mattheo for an opinion. “Dude, all girls are weird.” Blaise nods in agreement. “Yeah, but she's, like, crazy weird.” Mattheo’s typical filthy grin appears. “But she’s hot, though.” Blaise shakes his head. “No, she’s not just hot, she’s beautiful.” This time Mattheo can’t help himself and laughs. “You are sooo in loooove with her.” He sings and Blaise gives him a little shove.

Blaise gets up, embarrassed with himself now that Mattheo is teasing him, and heads for the stairs. As soon as you notice he’s coming your way you try to turn around as quickly as possible, but it’s no use. “(Y/n)?” With a guilty face you turn around. “I wasn’t listening.” Mattheo jumps up and joins Blaise, he can barely keep it together as his eyes sparkle with humor. “She totally heard everything. I’m leaving.” You chew on your lip as you look at your feet, while Mattheo passes you.

Blaise runs his hand over his face trying to calm himself down and you smile softly, feeling guilty. It really was wrong of you to listen in on their conversation. “I did hear everything.” You admit as you walk towards him. “Do you think I’m some weird obsessed guy now?” You laugh and shake your head. “No, apparently I’m the crazy weird one.” Blaise gives you an apologetic smile. “I said that, but I also said you were beautiful.” You lay your hand on his shoulder. “I also heard you say you’ve been in love with me since the day we met.” The slytherin in front of you slowly nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “Which is crazy a coincidence, since that happens to be the same day as I fell for you.” Blaise is surprised to hear that, but quickly closes the last bit of space between you two and rests a hand on the small of your back. “That’s a bizarre coincidence.” You hum in response as you both lean towards one another. The kiss starts slowly, but quickly turns fiery.

“I never believed in love at first sight, until you.” Blaise mutters as he rests his head against yours. “That’s really skeptical coming from someone who attends a magical school.” He smiles and pulls you in for a sweet and loving kiss.

Draco

Draco sits and stares at a shiny green apple, dwelling in deep thoughts about you and him. “Do you think (y/n) is interesting?” Blaise turns against the railing of the astronomy tower and frowns at Draco’s odd question. “You’ve been staring at that apple for too long.” Draco rolls his eyes, not pleased that his friend isn’t taking his question seriously. “I feel like (y/n) is fresh air to me and that’s been bothering me since the day we met.” This time Blaise takes Draco seriously. “What exactly are you saying?” Draco looks away from his apple. “She makes everything better and I always need more of her, her attention, her opinions, her stories, her soft caring attitude. It’s never too much. Before I met her I’ve never been this curious about someone, never wanted to be around someone so bad.”

Your heart swells at Draco’s sweet words, but of course Draco had to say something stupid. “Which is weird, because she’s not that interesting.” Blaise’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “You are definitely interested in her, that’s for sure.” Draco scoffs. “No, it’s not like that… is it? Shit, you think? I’m so in love with that… idiot.” Blaise laughs. “Idiot? Just a minute ago she was fresh air?” Draco just glares at Blaise who tries his best to hide his smile.

“You should tell her.” Blaise suggests. “Tell her what exactly? Oh hey (y/n), fun fact, I’ve been crushing on you since day one, please love me.” You smile at what an utter idiot Draco is and decide to immediately shut him up by walking up to him. Blaise is the first to spot you and his eyes go crazy wide. “That indeed is a fun fact.” You say, making Draco spin around to see if he recognised your voice right. Blaise takes Draco’s apple from his perplexed figure and heads for the stairs. “See you guys tomorrow.” He says casually and you smile at him, but Draco doesn’t move.

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” Draco manages to say after a few seconds of silence and you roll your eyes. You take a few steps towards him and start playing with his tie. “You’re an idiot, Draco.” He nods and admires how your fingers play with his tie. “I’m an idiot, but please love me.” Draco breathes out and you meet his eyes, surprised by his sudden courage even if it took the form of a desperate plea. His hands gently move over your arms until he wraps his hands around yours, squeezing them softly. “I’ve already been loving you since day one.” You confess and a surprised smirk tugs on Draco lips. “Seriously?” You nod and move into him. He’s still a little shocked and it takes him a second to kiss back, but the passion makes up for the wait.

Enzo

“You know, I was thinking about (y/n). And I was wondering- Do you believe in love at first sight?” Draco stares at Enzo, wondering where the hell the others are. Realizing that there was no else to answer Lorenzo’s question, Draco rolls his eyes and thinks about it for a second. “You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t even know if I believe in love.” Enzo frowns. “That’s just depressing.” Draco huffs. “But what does that have to do with (y/n)?” Draco’s question gets Enzo a bit flustered and he tries to play it cool, just lifting his shoulders. “Nothing.” Draco raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “You’ve got to be the worst liar at Hogwarts.” Enzo acts like he doesn’t know what Draco’s talking about.

“Come on, spill it, Berkshire.” Draco snaps, but Lorenzo is used to his attitude and ignores it, happy to talk about his worries. “Look, do you think (y/n) would freak out if I told her I had been obsessing about her since Pansy first introduced us.” Draco thinks for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘obsessing’?” You take a step closer so you’re sure to hear what Lorenzo has to say next. He takes a deep breath. “You know, nothing out of the ordinary. Just… I was thinking of a spring wedding, some small town by the beach kinda honeymoon, a classical house with a big garden for the creatures and five kids, you know that kinda stuff.” Draco honestly doesn’t know what to say. “Do you think she’ll run in the other direction if she hears this?” Draco nods. “Enzo, you’ve officially lost it. She’ll definitely run in the other direction.” Disappointment washes away Lorenzo's excited smile.

“No. She won’t.” You say softly as you make yourself known. Lorenzo’s eyes go wide as he sees you. “I think it’s sweet and I do believe in love at first sight.” You continue as you walk towards a blushing Enzo. “You two are disturbingly perfect for one another.” Draco jokes and Lorenzo glares, making Draco raise his hands in defense. “You give the absolute worst advice ever. Now get out of here.” While muttering some complaints Draco leaves you two alone and you can’t help but laugh. “You ask Draco for love advice?” With a sheepish expression Enzo raises his shoulder. “I was desperate. I was so worried you would freak out, but I also couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. (Y/n), ever since-“ You don’t let him finish and just kiss him like you’ve wanted to do since you met him.

Lorenzo doesn’t waste any time wrapping his arms around you and deepening the kiss. “I’m so freaking in love with you Enzo Berkshire.” He lifts you off the floor as he again locks his lips with yours. “I think we’re simping for each other.” You laugh and nod in agreement. “Definitely.”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Childs play (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) Part 1

Hiiiii! I’m so freaking excited for y’all to read this I’m literally shaking! This will only be 1 part. (Edit: I’ve changed my mind it will get a second part but it won’t be put right away) Shout out to @chickenshit03 for beta reading the one shot. Absolute sweetheart 🫶🏼. Not proofread, enjoy!!

(Y/N)-Your name.

NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! Cursing, light choking during the deed , protecting PinV, Miguel being a big meanie near the end, Comfort/Hurt, lmk if I can’t think of anymore

Word count: 4.6k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Knock knock…

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I wanted to introduce myself, me and my family just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.” Your mother said as she stood at her neighbors door, you hid timidly behind her leg as she spoke to a Hispanic woman with curly dark hair. Your eyes wandered around her living room, or at least as much as you could catch from your spot. Not paying any mind to the conversation they were having when your eyes spotted a young boy around your age, about five or so walking past with a few legos in hand.

Your shyness was quickly overtaken with curiosity as you went to pull on your mother’s hand, she must have been watching you stare at the brunette, because before you could even turn up to ask her if you could go play, she was already shooing you in the direction of him as her and the other lady went to go talk over coffee in the kitchen.

He didn’t glance up at you as you sat down in front of his spot on the living room floor, being too preoccupied on the Star Wars set he was working on.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

You paused, shifting to sit down better before speaking again.

“Can I help? I love legos.”

He stayed quiet, and for a second you think he’ll say no, until he shrugged and moved the instruction book so you both could read it, making your lips come up in a smile.

“Sure.”

—

“You can teach me to play street fighter a million times and I will never understand it.” You huffed as you dropped the controller on your lap and leaned back on the couch, the tv in his living room sounded out a “finish her” as Miguel’s character killed yours, you couldn’t even be bothered to remember the names, peeved off that’d he beat you for the upteenth time, him not even having the courtesy to let you win one round.

“I’m not gonna be sorry for you being bad.” He retorted in a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue at you, and blew a raspberry. Your arms quickly crossover your chest as you puff your cheeks out with a pout.

“You’re so mean to me Miguel, I hate you.” You mumbled the half-lie to the other ten year old, looking away as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, you didn’t even notice his movements until you felt him grab for your hand, turning your head to realize he was now standing in front of your spot on the couch.

“You don’t hate me, I’m your best friend.” He states, making you nod your head in confirmation after a beat, “Good. Because you’re my best friend too.” You smiled.

“Can we play something else then?”

“Nope.”

“Ughhh.”

—

“(Y/N), it’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Mj’s voice snapped you out of your head, suddenly aware of all the other fourteen years olds turning to stare at you. Was it a bit embarrassing you were about to lose your first kiss in a game of spin the bottle?

Half-dried nail-polished fingers gently grabbed the base of the empty Coke bottle, praying to god no one saw the way your hand trembled slightly, as you gave it a good twist. As your eyes tracked the blur of clear glass, you got your lower lip, silently hoping it was someone who you wouldn’t fluster up in embarrassment when you had to tell them who was your first kiss in the four walls of the lunch room. Like Kyle, or Ben or-

“Oooo- you got Miguel!” One of the other girls giggled as your eyes shot up to where the tip was pointing and surely, there he sat in front of you. Miguel was good…yeah, great even! You trusted him, he was your best friend since you were practically in dippers…So with a fine silent look of confirmation, you crossed the circle, closing your eyes as your lips connected for the first time.

Is it normal for your heart to skip a beat during a kiss? God how red is my face right now? Have I been holding it for too long? I wonder if he’s enjoying it, he hasn’t pulled away so that’s a good sign right? I should probably stop now. It's been like four seconds.

You finally pull away, sitting down on your knees as you bring a hand up to wipe some excess saliva away from the cover of your mouth. The sound of the next person going to spin the bottle muffles out around you as you focus on the weird flutter in your stomach.

—

“SLOW DOWN MIG-YOU’RE DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC!” You yelled as your left hand flew to grab at your seat belt, right hand gripping the overhead handle so hard your knuckles were turning white, pushing yourself as much as you could into the passenger seat at you could while he just let out an eye roll and chuckle as you were being dramatic (you weren’t).

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who doesn’t have their license yet.”

“You got your license yesterday! I don’t turn sixteen for another four months!”

“Don’t care, you could ever shut up or take the bus.”

You couldn’t respond right away because another scream came from your throat as he turned a corner.

“If I die in this stupid car, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you O’Hara!”

“I’m not gonna let you die, stop being dramatic.” He scoffed, finally pulling up to the school parking lot, finally slowing down as he looked for a place to park. His arm comes around the back of your car seat as he goes to backwards park in an empty spot. “See I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m actually traumatized…” You muttered, eyes still wide as you kept still in your seat. Miguel let out a huff and he goes to take your seatbelt off once the car was shut off.

“If I buy you some subway during lunch will you stop complaining?”

“…yes.”

—

“Maybe I could just take a gap year-or-or go to the community college nearby, just until I can transfer, then I can try for Columbia again?” You kept fumbling your words, looking at the rejection letter in your hands. If you tried to focus on it enough, you’d be able to hear the paper shaking lightly in your hands. Glossy eyes trying to rapidly blink away tears before they fell on the paper. Miguel quickly shook his head as he placed his coffee cup down on the table of the cafe you two would frequent.

“No. Not happening, I’ll just reject my application and we can go to Stanford together in California.” He told you, making you copy his actions as you placed the paper down next to your other University letters.

“Are you crazy? That’s your dream school! I am not letting you do that for me. I’d never forgive myself for that.” You admitted, looking at him in those familiar brown eyes, praying to god yours weren’t growing bloodshot from the emotional moment between you both. Miguel letting out a heavy sigh, his hand going to run through his pushed back brown locks as he looked down at his letters again. The silence that grew over you two was almost suffocating, a thing it never felt like around him. It made your heart ache, trying to keep back a whine and some tears as you closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath before opening them again and finally breaking the silence between you both. “I mean…FaceTime is a thing right?” Miguel raised a brow at your sentence, before it clicked in his mind what you were implying. Quickly shaking his head, his hand coming up to stop you.

“No. No. I can’t even go a week without seeing you, I’ve lived next door to you for thirteen years and you expect me to be okay with us being two thousand miles away from each other!?” You glanced around you when Miguel raised his voice slightly, luckily other than you and the owner the place was practically barren.

“Mig, we’ll figure it out! We’ll call and text, FaceTime, and I’ll come back for breaks! And besides, you don’t strike me as a type to enjoy California.” You attempted to lighten the mood, thankfully being met with an amused grunt and his lip twitching up slightly.

“Fine… just, promise we aren’t going to end up like all those friends who stop talking because we’re going to separate college’s alright?”

Your smile grew. “I promise.”

—

Ring…

Ring…

Rin- “Hey it’s Miguel,” your ears perked up, quickly scrambling up from your position on your bunk bed, where you were laying on your stomach, “I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.” Beep.

“Hey Miguel… just wanted to see how you were, I finished my exams for the semester, and I’m going back to Neuva York tomorrow. I wanted to see if you’d want to hang out during the break, let me know… bye…” You mumbled before you hung up the call, tossing your phone on the other side of your bed. Running your hands through your head, letting out a heavy sigh. Closing your eyes to keep any forming tears of frustration from spilling out.

You and Miguel weren’t as close as you’d like to be anymore. How did a few months apart completely unwind the tight knit threat that had kept you both close for years? It had started out well, you did good at keeping your side of the promise and he did as well. Texting every hour, FaceTiming him every weekend, calling every night while you both studied, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then, classes became harder, you’d both start to develop new friends, new routines. The text became less frequent, now lagging to every few days, FaceTime sessions were now non-existent and your daily calls now became monthly, never lasting more than half an hour. You hated how you two were growing apart, and it hurt to see that Miguel didn’t seem to care. You didn’t have to see him in person to notice his new friend group was starting to change his personality. He was starting to seem more stoic, dry, it almost seemed like he was constantly agitated or something of the sort when you finally would get a hold of him. Still… despite the gradual change he seemed to be going through you still had hope that deep down he was still the same old Miguel you had grown to love and cherish. And that spark of hope only grew when you heard the faint buzz of your phone from the foot of your bed, quickly grabbing it to read a new message.

Text me when you get in tomorrow.

—

This was not what you had in mind.

Somehow Miguel had convinced you to go to some random bar that didn’t ID with him and his college buddies. “I’ll be fun” he said, “you’ll love them” he said. Now here you were forced to listen to some snobby trust fund kid bitch and moan about how he had to inherit his father’s company and blah blah blah. You weren’t even paying attention anyways, his words were going into one ear and flying out the other, opting to sip on your mixed drink to help keep you from banging your head into the bar counter. Tonight had simply e been the worst. Not to mention Miguel had been acting… different.

Maybe he just wasn’t good with distance, but it still struck you as odd how the second you were both finally in close proximity it was almost as if nothing had happened, like your friendship with each other wasnt badly strained for weeks on end. It didn’t stop there though, no no no. Because now that you were with him in front of his new friends and all dolled up he had been more… touchy, and not in a way he had been before.

A hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, a finger idly twisting and twirling your hair. It was so… intimate… like he wanted them to think there was something there that was more than just a childhood friend. You couldn’t say that you hated it, it was just unexpected.

“Hey… let’s get out of here?” Miguel’s whisper snapped you out from your thoughts. The way his voice murmured lowly against your shoulder as he all but rubbed against it like a cat making your cheeks flare up and a shiver ran down your back. Quickly ignoring the feeling of the spike in your heart rate and the wetness growing in your panties, nodding as you go to stand up, not wanting to be in the over cramped bar any longer and just waiting to head back to Miguel’s place since you were staying there for a week. Feeling like your knees were going to give out from underneath you when he slid his large hand from between your shoulder blades and upwards to squeeze your right shoulder.

Not sure if your hazy mind was from the alcohol or from his actions anymore. Not sure if things would go back to how they were before you’d left when he went to leave sloppy wet kisses on your neck as soon as his apartment door was closed and locked. Not sure if you could look at him the same way after he made you see stars from the comfort of his sheets. Still you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, he felt too good.

“Fuck- felt so fucking good…” He hissed as he pulled out from between your legs, taking a moment to let himself to catch his breath before rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can. You didn’t respond, still out of it from the aftermath of experiencing nirvana in the form of drunk sex. Letting out a sigh as you turned to your side and closed your eyes as drowsiness starts to seep into your bones. Feeling the other side of the bed dip before a strong arm came around to hug your waist.

“…Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“This… was a one time thing right?”

A pause, a heavy sigh before you felt his soft lips kiss the nape of your neck.

“… of course.”

—

A flash of light shined through the darkness of your studio apartment. You didn’t even need to check the notification screen in order to know who it was. Only one person would text you at two in the morning.

Come over?

If you told your high school self that the only time you ever saw Miguel was in the deeps of night while you were tangled in his sheets, she would have thought you were lying. The most fucked up part was that it was starting to affect you mentally, how your best friend had turned into a booty call because of one night from a drunk fuck seven years ago, it was painfully obvious you’d never get to the point where you’d be able to go back to the way you both once were. You couldn’t help but cling to the last broken bits he was willing to give you though. So every time he calls or texts you at random hours of the night since you’ve moved back to Nueva York, you’d show up at his doorstep like you are now.

“I know it’s late, I'm sorry, these Master exams are kicking my ass.” He apologized while letting you in after a few seconds. Closing and locking the front door before gently pushing you against it, his lips already finding their usual spot against the crook of your neck. Calloused hands began to slip underneath the baggy material of your hoodie, his large fingers gently grazing the exposed skin, you’ve learned to stop wearing shirts to these sessions a long time ago. “Need to blow off some steam…”

“Miguel…”The way you’d breathe out his name always made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven, your hands wandering upwards against the black fabric of his tank top. His lips separated from the blossoming red and purple mark they left in their wake so he can pull your jacket off before stripping off his own shirt. Your arms quickly wrap around his neck, any guilt that had been lingering in your mind quickly melted away when his hands ran down to your hips underneath your waistband, thumb fidgeting with the thin fabric of your panties. “Need you-“

“Need you too Cariño.” He muttered before going to place a gentle peck against the edge of your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the movement. You’ve noticed he never kisses you directly on your lips, always on the edge, on your neck or cheek. You would have felt your heart ache if the feeling of your core throbbing when his hand dragged your bottoms down to squeeze your ass wasn’t more overwhelming, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Half of the time you two didn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding a spot on the hallway wall or against the kitchen counter. This was one of those times, he stumbled over to the couch, too distracted on leaving hickies all over your chest and dipping his fingers into your wet cunt. You let out a gasp when you landed on the brown leather rather harshly, making the couch move a few inches from its original spot due to the weight of both of your bodies hastily climbing on top of it. He made quick work to strip the rest of your clothes from both of your bodies once he made sure you hadn’t accidentally hit your head. Quickly slipping a condom before lining himself up.

“Fuuuuck-fuck…” He groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock between your folds. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream from the deliciously painful stretch that he always provides. Giving you a second to adjust to his length and girth before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours, each thrust making your silent whimpers and whines turn into pornographic moans and incoherent babblings. “Love filling you up. You love this cock don’t you?” He taunts, it was so cruel the way the words fell from his mouth but you loved it nonetheless. Nodding rapidly as you gushed around him for the first time tonight.

“Nah uh… need to heard you say it. Use your words.” He smirks, enjoying the plop plop sound that started to quietly reverberate off the walls of his living room. Glancing down momentarily to watch a thin layer of cum that was forming a ring around the base of his cock. “Tell me how much you love it.” He urged.

“Fuck-fuck… love it so much.” You moaned, overstimulated from your orgasm, squirming underneath him just the way he liked. He couldn’t help the way his ego swells at the way you feel apart for him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed as he propped your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, his sweet words always messed with your foggy mind. “Such a sweet little thing, all for me.”

“Don’t-don’t say that Mig.” You whined, head turning to the side, as your hand dropped from his chest to drop off the couch. His right hand quickly leaves your hip and runs up to your neck, keeping his grip light as he props your head back to face him with his index finger.

“Aww poor baby, can’t handle when I talk all sweet to her, huh?” He let out an airy half chuckle. Despite the honey-like toned he’d use, the underlying taunt was always present. “Let me make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrust deeper into your core, making your hips subconsciously jump up to meet his.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m so-so close.” You whimpered and whined, clenching around his length, his hips stuttering slightly as you felt the heat building in your lower belly start to grow with each thrust.

“Cum with me baby… Cum all over this cock.” He groaned.

“Fuck-Fuck.” With one final thrust, you finally came undone around him, his name falling from your lips over and over like a mantra. Miguel followed suit, stopping his thrust while fully inside your cunt, letting out a deep groan as he came.

“Shit… You okay?” He asked once he was able to collect himself enough, climbing off top of you before rolling the used condom off his softing member, picking up his forgotten boxers and placing them back on.

“Mhm…” You nodded, trying to stabilize yourself on shaky arms and legs. Miguel seemed to have noticed, picking up your clothes from the floor and making his way over to hand them to you.

“Let me get you some water.” He said before retreating to his kitchen. The only sound in the air now was the faint noises of him rustling around his cabinets, and the quiet shuffling of clothes. Hating the feeling of putting your legging and hoodie back on due to the thin layer of sweat still on your skin. Once you were decent enough Miguel came back with a glass of water and handed it to you. Mumbling a “thank you” before taking a sip. Miguel cleared his throat as he sat down on the other edge of the couch, eyes cast down, hands rubbing anxiously together, finally deciding to break the steadily growing awkward silence. “Look, (Y/N), I wanted to talk to you about something… something kinda important.”

You raised a brow, noticing the sudden change in his behavior, taking another quick sip before placing the half empty glass on his coffee table. “What’s up?”

He released a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, still not making eye contact as he continued. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just put it out there…” He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, “We need to stop seeing each other.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry what?” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop, your face quickly filling up with confusion and a bit of disbelief as you stood up. Miguel follows your actions as he puts his hands up in defense, but you continue before he could try explaining. “You can’t just fuck me on your couch then tell me afterwards we need to stop. You know how much of an asshole you sound?”

“I know, I know it makes me sound like an asshole.” He tried to reason with you, going to finally put on his shorts and tank top that were still on the floor. Not feeling like being half-naked during this conversation. “Look, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing and it’s getting pretty serious-“

“A girl you’ve been seeing?” You repeated in disbelief. “You can’t be for real.”

“Well, we never agreed to be exclusive. It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.”

Ouch.

You had to turn away so they didn’t see the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but even with your face hidden your body language gave you away.

“I know we weren’t exclusive but fuck Miguel.” You shake your head, going to make your way to the door. “I’ve known you since we were five and you’re just gonna throw me away like some old toy?!”

“Hey-no. That’s not-that’s not what I mean, you know that.” He takes a step forward, grabbing your arm before you could get too far. “We can’t sleep together anymore, but we can still be friends.” You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, finally gathering yourself enough to pull your arm away and face him again, not caring if he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s made you cry one too many times, it’s about time he saw what he did to you. “We can still be friends! You’re still my best friend (Y/N)!” He couldn’t help but let his voice come out in more of a panic, a bit more rushed. You quickly shook your head.

“No. No, we aren’t best friends anymore Miguel, we haven’t been in a long, long time. I know that, you know that. So don’t pretend like we are just because your afraid of losing your emotional support fuck buddy.” You finally head toward the door and towards your car in the driveway, not turning to face him as you hear him call your name. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. If you're as serious about this girl as you say you are, you’d do the right thing and block me. Because I’m so tired of waiting around and pretending like one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m in love with you.”

You froze once the words came out, hand still on the car door handle as you came to the realization you finally admitted the secret you’ve been holding for the past ten years. Your free hand going to cover your mouth as you finally turn to look at Miguel, the look of shock from the confession was evident. You shook your head as you attempted to back track.

“Wait, Miguel I didn’t mean to tell you that-it just happened-“

“… You should leave.” His voice suddenly became stoic, his face hardening so it was hard to read his emotions. “This is just helping my case. Leave.” The tears flowed harder down your face as he slammed the front door shut. Leaving you to sob into the emptiness of the night as you finally let all the pain from the last seven years catch up to you.

You weren’t surprised to see your text bubbles turn green the next morning.

—

“I really think this one is it.”

“Me too!”

“He’ll love you in that dress.”

“Aww I can already see the waterworks.”

All you could do was smile, your hands repeatedly smooth non-existent wrinkles as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a real life princess. After what felt like hours you finally found the wedding dress. You couldn’t be happier.

“Alright Miss future Osborn.” Your maid of honor squealed, finally getting your attention, “You need to get out of that dress, you need to meet up Harry to look over the venue.”

You sighed, as you turned back to admire the white wedding dress one more time. “You’re right, I don’t wanna keep him waiting just cause I can’t stop staring at myself.” You giggled, before heaving to the back.

You and Harry have been dating for four years now, and he had proposed last month during your anniversary. You couldn’t be happier, he treats you like a queen, better than any other Man you’ve ever been in romantic contact with.

Once you had finally finished changing out of your regular clothes, you grabbed your phone out of your purse. Sending a quick text telling him that you found a dress, before doing a quick check on insta, wanting to look at the engagement pictures you posted on your page last week. But the soft smile on your face quickly dropped, like your heart did to your stomach when you checked your activity page.

Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.

Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.

1 message request from Miguel.Ohara.99

Fuck.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @scaryplanetdestroyer @miguels-aranita @beezusvreeland @raginghomo62 @miguelbaby @thedevax @vera4luv @alialucille

[itneverendshere]

Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands. 

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!” 

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling  as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

 “No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We’ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.” 

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

[min-imum]

corruption kink mingyuuuu 😩

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: afab!reader, food play a little bit, corruption kink duh, innocent!reader

you’re so real for this anon. i can just imagine going out on a picnic date with him — you’ve been rambling excitedly about the picnic for fifteen minutes and all he can think about is how good your little sundress looks on you.

“uh-huh, yeah,” he responds to something you say. he’s not quite sure, but he thinks he heard you say something about wine and sandwiches and um. um…

he tries his hardest to snap out of it, but every time he looks in your direction he just wants to ruin you. his pretty little girlfriend, absolutely adorable, all dolled up for him in the cutest yellow sundress. the sweetheart neckline had him half-hard the second he saw you, and the more your eyes light up with childlike, innocent excitement, the more he wants to make you cry on his tongue, his fingers, his cock—

“gyu!” you call, oblivious. “i found a spot, we could sit over here!”

“okay,” he answers, holding the picnic basket in front of his crotch in a way he hopes isn’t obvious. he might be horny but he’s still your gentleman boyfriend. “i’ll set up the mat. don’t you lift a finger, sweetheart.”

you giggle, successfully wooed over, and he flushes down the back of his neck.

—

he’s not sure if he wants to run away or stay here forever.

after finishing your picnic lunch, you’d cuddled up to him and used him as support to lean on. it had been fine until you turned to face him to talk to him, and then started leaning on him. he wonders if you even realise that your tits are pressed against his arm right now.

his cock strains against his pants, bulging painfully against the seam of his jeans. but he doesn’t ask you to move away. he would never! he loves having you close, but you’re just so cute, so innocent that he can’t help but want to absolutely wreck you.

you dip a strawberry into chocolate and offer it to him. “aaah~” you say, prompting him to open his mouth so you can feed him. he obliges, smiling as he bites into the strawberry.

“is it good?” you ask, eyes wide.

“mhm,” he says, chewing. “the strawberry is really sweet.”

“ooh, i wanna try too!”

he watches as you dip the other half of the strawberry into the chocolate, and as you’re bringing it to your mouth, the chocolate drips onto your chest.

before he can think, he moves, head going down to your chest, and he licks up the drop of chocolate and the thin trail it left. then it clicks, and he panics, jolting away.

“shit, fuck,” he mutters to himself. “i’m sorry, baby, i didn’t mean to.”

he watches as you shift nervously, and guilt builds in his chest. it’s all his fault for not being able to control himself. god. what was he thinking?

“w-well,” you clear your throat. “couples usually… couples usually do that sort of thing, right?”

“yes,” mingyu says, cautiously. “but we haven’t discussed doing anything like that, and you never gave me your permission to do that. so i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should have controlled myself better.”

“controlled?”

he wants to scream. do you not know how pretty you look? do you not know how much he wants to hold you down and have his way with you and mark you up and teach you all the dirty things he loves?

“well, baby, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re looking extra pretty today,” mingyu smiles, ignoring his raging boner. “and… it makes me want to kiss you all over and make sure everyone knows you’re mine. you know? i just want to keep you for myself.”

“oh,” you nod. “well, i heard about, um, doing… things… from my friends, and… i think i would like to try doing those things with you, gyu.” you’re blushing hard as you speak, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “but you have to teach me. i… i’ve never done anything before, so i…”

it’s like a flip switches.

he tilts your face up to look at him with a hand on your cheek. “you want me to teach you, baby?”

your eyes go glassy. “yes, please,” you whisper, and he’s a goner.

he crashes his lips onto yours, and a surprised moan escapes you. you’ve kissed before, but never like this, and you realise you really like this. when he pulls away, eyes half lidded, you whimper a quiet little “more” and he’s descending on you again, kissing the air out of your lungs.

finally, he pulls away, panting. his lips are swollen. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, and you have no doubt you look the same.

“let’s go home, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“don’t want anyone to watch while i’m pleasuring my sweet girl.”

[selencgraphy]

Hi!!! If you’re comfortable with it, could you write something about Logan meeting reader’s parents for the first time and he sees that her father is verbally abusive and he maybe stands up for her and stuff. Thanks so much!!

— 𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄

PAIRING: logan howlett x f!reader

TAGS: she/her pronouns for reader, verbal abuse, body shaming, protective!logan, logan is whipped (but when is he not?), established relationship, meeting the parents for the first time, hurt/comfort, reader is like in her early 30s, mutant!reader (telepath but she uses her powers like once...), thanksgiving, logan calling reader princess

A/N: i love protective!logan and have been meaning to write smth around these lines so thanks for the ask! sorry that it took a minute, i couldn't figure out how i wanted to go about writing it :( i hope you like it <3

WORD COUNT: ~1.3k

masterlist || request box <3

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, Lo,” you voiced as you watched him pack. It was tradition in your family that everyone gathered back at your parent’s house for Thanksgiving, but it had been only a few months since the two of you started dating. Things were going really well between the two of you and as much as you wanted to spend the holidays with him, the idea of Logan meeting your parents was overwhelming. You never failed to go home before despite your gripes with your father, but just because you had to go didn’t mean he did.

He stopped folding the shirt he had in his hands at your remark, setting it down and walking up to you, his gaze soft but laced with a hint of worry. As soon as he was within arms reach, you went to place your hands around his neck and his hands immediately found your waist. His eyes bore into yours as if he was looking for something in them. “D’you not want me to come, bub?”

Your heart dropped at the question. “Of course, I want you to come, baby. It’s just… my family. They can be a bit much. I’ve never brought someone home to meet them before, and we haven’t exactly had the best relationship since I left to be here,” you ramble, eventually stopping when you notice the look on his face. He was smiling. “Why’re you smiling?”

“My girlfriend is really cute, is why,” he whispered, pecking your lips without warning.

“M’being serious, Lo…”

“I know, I know, bub. I’m sorry,” he breathed, gently squeezing the part of your waist where his hands were. “I wanna go with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You sighed, letting your head fall to rest on his chest.

“I just… I just don’t want them to scare you away,” you whisper. At your words, he removed one of his hands from your waist to gently lift you by your chin to look at you once more.

“M’not going anywhere, bub,” he assured, his voice never wavering as he stared into your eyes, trying to drill the words into your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Lo.”

—

You watched with bated breath as Logan greeted your parents, especially your dad. The handshake they exchanged felt like it lasted hours as your dad tried to size him up. “Nice to meet you, Logan,” he gruffly greeted. “Was worried Y/N made you up.”

You chuckle in an attempt to hide the fact that your father’s idea of a joke hurts, but you notice the subtle way Logan’s jaw clenches. The respectful demeanor he displayed was cracking. “Let’s eat, shall we?” your mother suggested, forcing the two men out of their macho exchange. With your father following after your mother, you took Logan’s hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, flashing a feeble smile.

Sitting down, your father sat at the head with your mother to his left and your sister next to her. Logan sat to the left of your father with you right next to him. Once everyone was settled with enough food on their plate, your father spoke again, completely dismissing Logan and looking at you. “Have you found work yet, Y/N?”

At the question, you wiped your hands and mouth, clearing your throat before you spoke. “I have,” you hesitated, unsure of where your father was taking this conversation. “Professor Xavier offered me a teaching position actually.” You were met with a dismissive hum, your face falling at the reaction. A moment passed before he spoke again—this time, speaking to Logan.

“So how did you meet my daughter, Logan?”

“I work at the school too,” he replied, his voice confident and steady. Your father merely scoffed and continued to eat while your mother asked more questions to fill the awkward silence. Even with your mother trying to lighten the mood as Logan told her about how you got together, the weight of your father’s silent gaze sent your heart racing, sweat slowly seeping out of your pores. In an attempt to ease your anxiety, you reached for more food.

“Make sure you save some for the rest of us, Y/N,” your father jeered. You froze, setting down the serving spoon in embarrassment and quickly placing your hands on your knees, tugging at the fabric at the sudden wave of self-consciousness.

“Lo, can we go?” you asked telepathically. He quickly nodded, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I think we’ll get going,” you mumble, your voice low in an attempt to maintain your composure. “Thank you for the food, ma.”

“Oh, c’mon Y/N. It was just a joke. I can’t joke around with my little girl anymore?” His words cut through you, but it seemed to hit Logan just as hard with the way his hand clenched, his claws threatening to break the skin. Just as you were about to speak, Logan beat you to it.

“S’not a joke. You’re just being fucking rude,” he started. Before continuing he turned to your sister. “Sorry for my language, kid.” He then looked back at your father. “I was actually a lil’ excited to meet the people who brought her into this godforsaken world, but now I’m just disappointed. She’s your daughter for fuck’s sake. Y/N is the kindest person I know. She’s been through hell, but she’s never let any of that get to her. You should be proud of her—of the woman she’s become and I won’t have you shit talk her, let alone do it in front of me. You don’t deserve my time and you sure as hell don’t deserve her.” Logan was breathing heavily now, his eyes blown with anger as he stared down your father.

He was standing up to your father in a way you and your sister never could, too afraid that harsh words might turn into something more, and it made you love him even more. But the emotions evoked by your father outweighed them, tears filling your eyes. “Let’s go, bub,” Logan gruffly said, the hand he held in his gently guiding you out of your parent’s house and into his car. He pulled out the driveway and headed off.

It was obvious he was trying to calm himself down before he tried to comfort you, still keeping a gentle hand on your thigh to tell you he was still here for you. Once his breath slowed, he pulled over and put the car into park, turning to you. Your eyes were red rimmed, eyes looking every which way and fingers tugging at your sleeves. “Princess?”

You hummed in response but didn’t look at him, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N, baby, can you look at me, please?” His voice was gentle, a hand raising to your cheek to try and face you to him. Slowly, your eyes met his and the floodgates opened, his thumbs immediately moving to wipe the tears away. His arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you into him the best he could over the center console. “I gotchu, honey. I gotchu.”

You stayed like that for a while until you were able to calm down. When he pulled away, he softly held his face in your hands as he spoke. “How about I make you your favorite, and we watch that movie you like when we get home?”

You sniffled, nodding at his suggestion and placing a hand over one of the ones he held on your face. He always knew how to make things better. When you got back to the mansion, you two did just that and as you sat in his bed, you couldn’t help the swell in your chest when you looked over at him. “Thank you, Lo,” you whispered. When he turned to you, his eyes softened.

“Anything for my girl,” he grinned, nudging his nose against yours before placing a kiss to your lips. 

[bigfatbimbo]

Once again , please tell me if you're uncomfortable writing it, but Ford being so starved of touch, having so many places of stimulation touched on his body and being praised that he's accidentally cumming very quickly in his pants during a heavy make out session!

He says a little "Oh! :( " when it happens.

He feels very mortified and ashamed, tries to hide it first to make it unnoticeable (he failed big time at it). His girlfriend reassures him, tells him it's okay, it's hot and there's nothing to be ashamed of. ❤️😭

-🌌

Work Break

700 words,, Stanford x reader

a/n — Couldn’t think of a song title this time, I feel out of character. Also this isn’t proofread.

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, at what point in the series this takes place is unclear, gender neutral!reader, sub!ford

summary — Reader helps Ford take a break from work, he gets a little excited.

You kiss up his jawline and land on his check before he decides to protest, “I have mountains of work that I have to get back too—“

“Just wait, baby,” You make your way over to his mouth, feeling that he’s about to abject again, and so you roll your hips ever so slightly on his slap.

He was half-hard from the attention, and he sucked in breath when you did it. A paper was still in one hand, as he’d refused to give in yet. 

“Y/n—“ He warned, voice now shaky, but was cut off with a disgusting kiss on his lips. 

Your hands explored his body, caressing his chest, and tracing on his arms, before settling on his pecks. For a nerd, he had a wonderful body. You always thought that. 

You broke away from the kiss, drawing a sound of disappointment from Ford, which he tried to cover up by clearing his throat.

“You deserve this, you know,” You remind, tugging at his collar to flash a little bit of skin on his neck. You needed a place to sink your teeth into.

“Don’t be absurd, i’ve barely gotten anything done today. I deserve a slap on the wrist and an order to get back to work— ah— ah—“

You sank into his neck while he was talking, and licked the spot after you were done, “You know that’s not true, Ford.”

And you were being honest. Whenever a new project caught his attention, he acted like it was the end of the world all over again. 

“You’ve done so much already, it’s coming along good,” You pluck the papers out of his hands either mild protest from Ford, and take his hand afterwards.

“Your— doing— so— good—“ You plant a kiss on every one of his fingers inbetween words, Ford blushes and looks away, muttering something about how he’s ‘not necessarily doing good, barley done anything..’ 

To make the make out session a little more to Ford taste, you take his other hand and do the same thing. This time, rolling your hips ever-so-slightly against his, now fully hard, cock.

He whimpered, and you took the opportunity to interlock lips with him again. Pushing your mouths together—with excessive spit, if you’re being honest—you continued the slight roll of your hips he seemed taken with.

At some point, your hands let go of his, and went to his hair. You deepened the kiss once more. In between breaths, you commented things like, “So good, ford,” “You’re so beautiful,” “So smart, baby.”

The entire time Ford had been whimpering into your kiss, hands now placed on the side of your hips and grasping at the fabric on your shirt. His pants had tightened noticeably during this time, and he was hoping you wouldn’t notice the precum beginning to stain the top of his pants. 

You had a way of turning his brain to mush that, surprisingly, he didn’t just allow. He craved. Your attention was positively unmatched, especially when your moving like that, or how your tongue his doing that thing he likes, or how your saying such sweet things and— 

 Oh.

Ford whined uncharacteristically and buried himself in your kiss. His hands moved you down on his lap so you wouldn’t notice what happened. 

It didn’t work. You opened your eyes with a quizzical look and tapped the crotch of his pants, then breaking away fully to look down. 

He was still hard, but it was apparently he’s finished earlier by the embarrassing stain on his slacks.Poor thing. 

“I-i’m sorry, y/n. I got—“ he rubbed the back of his neck apologetically, “—carried away. I guess, uh, I should cleanup and… Oh god, i’m sorry—“

Your face looked sympathetic, as it guided his chin back to meet your gaze, “No, no, it’s fine, Ford really. It’s cute you got so excited.”

His looked lightened at this, but you continued before he could talk. 

“In fact, why don’t we do it right this time? If you’re up for round two.”

[vilentia]

Hey just wondering if you still write for tangerine? If you do I was hoping you’d write one about tangerine having to most sweetest and kindest wife and everyone always wondering how could she marry a big grump like him? Like tangerine is on a job and he’s due back in a few days and these men have been sent to kidnap his wife and she sees them infront of her house and goes out asking if they are lost and invites them inside for some tea and makes them lunch and they end up leaving without her because of how sweet she was and tangerine comes back recognising the men leaving the house and his wife waving goodbye to them lol if that makes sense thank you

Disarmed by Kindness

Tangerine x reader

Found this in my requests and finally felt inspired enough to write something. Sorry for the long wait and I hope it was worth it. 🫣

Tangerine wiped the sweat off his brow as he stood on the rooftop, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. His job was nearly done. Just a few more days, and he’d be back home, where things were different—where he wasn’t just Tangerine the assassin, but your husband, the man who couldn’t figure out why someone as sweet as you would ever marry a grump like him.

His thoughts drifted to you: your warm smile, gentle hands, and that voice of yours that could soothe him even on his worst days. Every time someone learned that you were his wife, their brows would furrow, and their lips would purse in confusion. How could someone so kind, so impossibly good-hearted, be married to someone like him? It was a mystery that followed you both everywhere, but one that neither of you cared to solve. You fit together in a way that made sense only to you.

Meanwhile, back at your cozy home, you hummed a tune as you prepared some fresh lemonade. You had just finished baking a batch of lemon tarts, knowing they were his favorite, even though he always pretended to prefer more "manly" desserts. He’d be back soon, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he bit into one of the tarts.

As you set the table for lunch, you noticed a group of men lingering just beyond the front gate. They were tough-looking, with hard expressions and eyes that flickered with suspicion. Your heart skipped a beat, but only out of concern that they might be lost or in need of help. You quickly slipped on your apron and stepped outside, your bright smile leading the way.

“Hello there!” you called out, waving as you approached. The men, all too familiar with violence and the rougher side of life, were caught off guard by the sight of you—a small, smiling woman heading straight for them.

One of the men, clearly the leader, cleared his throat and put on his best menacing face. “Ma’am, we… uh… we’re looking for someone.”

“Well, you found me!” you beamed. “But I’m afraid you might be mistaken about who you’re looking for. Are you lost? Why don’t you come inside for some tea? I’ve just baked some lemon tarts, and they’re still warm.”

The men exchanged confused glances. This wasn’t how these things usually went. But something about you—your warmth, your kindness—disarmed them completely. Before they knew it, they were nodding and following you into the house, each one feeling more out of place than the last.

Inside, you bustled around the kitchen, brewing tea, slicing tarts, and setting out an array of sandwiches you had planned to eat alone. The men sat around the table, their bulky forms hunched awkwardly over the delicate teacups you handed them.

“So, who is it you’re looking for?” you asked sweetly as you poured them more tea.

The leader, struggling to remember why they were there in the first place, muttered, “We were sent to… uh… collect someone important.”

“Oh dear, I hope it’s nothing serious. You know, my husband is due back any day now. He’s such a dear, but I do worry about him when he’s away.” You sighed softly, the picture of a concerned wife.

The men felt a pang of guilt they weren’t accustomed to. They looked around at the cozy house, the floral curtains, the homemade meal. How could they possibly harm you or take you away? You were like a ray of sunshine, and they were nothing but storm clouds.

As they finished their tea, you packed up the remaining tarts into a neat little box and handed it to the leader. “For the road,” you said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you going hungry.”

The men, now thoroughly confused and utterly charmed, left the house without so much as a harsh word. As they walked down the driveway, they glanced back to see you waving them off, your smile as bright as ever.

Just as they reached the street, Tangerine’s car pulled up. He stepped out, eyes narrowing as he recognized the men from a job he’d finished the week before. His hand instinctively moved toward the gun under his coat, but he stopped short when he saw you at the door, waving at the men with that sweet smile of yours.

The leader of the group met Tangerine’s gaze, and for a moment, it seemed like things could go south. But then the man raised the box of tarts, nodded once, and muttered, “You’ve got a good one there, mate.” And with that, they left, the mission completely forgotten.

Tangerine watched them go, then turned to you, who had already started fussing over him. “You’re back early! I didn’t even get a chance to make your favorite dinner yet,” you said, pulling him inside.

“What were those men doing here?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, them? Just some lost souls looking for directions, I think. They seemed nice enough once you got to know them,” you said, dismissing the incident with a wave.

Tangerine couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, you had no idea who they really were or what they had intended to do. You saw the good in everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. And somehow, that goodness had protected you.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of warmth and love. “And you’re my grumpy bear. Now, come on, I’ve got lemon tarts.”

As you sat down to eat, Tangerine couldn’t shake the image of those hardened men walking away from your house, a box of tarts in hand, thoroughly disarmed by the woman he loved. You had a way of softening even the hardest of hearts, and in that moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

No one would ever understand how you worked together, but that was fine. As long as you had each other, Tangerine knew he’d always have a reason to come home, no matter how tough the job.

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

[kentobb]

The Bet (Part Two)

Characters: College!Sukuna x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Foul language, Kiss. Sukuna being an idiot.

Author’s note: Thank you for everyones comment! It meant a lot for me. Did a part two thanks to the feedback 🩷 I love reading your comments. Feel free to leave a feedback or how you feel in the comments.

Part 01 Part 03 Part 04

Sukuna walked into the library, his heart pounding a little faster than usual. He was there under the pretense of needing help with his project, but deep down, he knew he didn’t really need it. He just needed to make progress with you on this stupid bet with Gojo. As he walked through the aisles of books, he spotted you from a distance. You were sitting peacefully, engrossed in a book. The sight of you so absorbed in your reading made him feel a pang of guilt. He was about to disrupt your tranquility for his own selfish reasons.

He approached you quietly, not wanting to startle you. When you looked up and saw him, you greeted him with a warm smile, ready to help. Sukuna couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed. What kind of person was he to use you like this? Would you mind? Would you not mind?

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. “Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

“It’s no problem,” you replied, closing your book. “What do you need help with?”

“Uh, just some research for our project,” he said, sitting down next to you.

You nodded and opened your laptop, quickly pulling up some documents. “Alright, let’s start with the basics. What part are you struggling with?”

He glanced at the screen, feeling a bit like a fraud. “I guess I’m having trouble narrowing down the sources. There’s just so much information.”

You smiled and began explaining the research process to him, breaking it down into simple steps. You had a way of making even the most complex topics seem easy to understand. As you talked, Sukuna found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. Your voice was soothing, and your explanations were clear and concise.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you said, looking at him. “You just need to organize your sources and make sure they’re credible.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sukuna said, smiling. “Thanks…you’re really good at this.”

You blushed slightly. “I’m glad I could help.”

You continued working, and Sukuna found himself relaxing more and more. He started cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood. You giggled at his comments, and he was immediately struck by how beautiful your laughter was. He felt his cheeks warm up and quickly looked back at his laptop, hoping you hadn’t noticed his reaction.

“So, what do you like about reading?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

Your eyes widened, surprised that he is actually making a conversation with you, that he is treating you like a decent human being…as if you were important. Your heart warms at the thought that someone is actually talking to you. You smiled, “I love getting lost in different worlds and stories,” you said, your eyes lighting up. “There’s something magical about books. They let you explore places you’ve never been and meet people you’d never know otherwise…”

“That’s cool,” Sukuna said, genuinely interested. “Maybe we could go book shopping sometime. You could show me some of your favorite authors.”

Sukuna glanced at you, who didn’t seem to take his suggestion seriously. You shrugged and gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, okay,” you said, clearly doubtful.

He felt a pang of frustration. “No, really,” he insisted, trying to sound more sincere. “I’ve been meaning to get into reading more. Maybe you could help me find some good books?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re interested in reading?”

“Yeah, I mean... books are cool,” he said, mentally cursing himself for sounding so unconvincing. He then had a sudden, seemingly brilliant idea. “How about we go book shopping right now?”

You laughed at his suggestion, thinking he was joking. But when you saw the serious expression on his face, your laughter died down. “You’re serious?”

“Totally serious,” he said as he smiled.

You hesitated for a moment, your sixth sense telling to you bail out and go back to your dorm, to drown yourself in books. Your thoughts want to win, telling you that he is just doing this out of petty, that he is just using you—

“Hey…” he said softly, standing up. “Let’s go. It’ll be fun.”

And this time, you decided to ignore your sixth sense. Slowly nodding and smiling, “Okay, if you say so.”

You both left the library and walked to a nearby bookstore. Sukuna was mentally cursing himself the entire way. This was not his scene at all. But as you both entered the store, he found himself distracted by your excitement? Who would have thought that the shy girl who hides herself from the world is smiling and giggling over some books? You moved through the aisles with ease, picking up books, reading the backs, and smiling at titles that intrigued you.

He watched you, feeling a strange lightheartedness. Seeing you so animated, so genuinely happy, was not as unpleasant as he had anticipated. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

“So, what kind of books do you like?” he asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.

“I love fantasy and adventure,” you said, holding up a book with a dragon on the cover. “And sometimes a good mystery.”

He nodded, pretending to be interested. “That sounds cool. What’s that one about?”

You began to explain the plot, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Sukuna found himself smiling, not because of the book, but because of the way you talked about it. Have your voice been always this beautiful? Have you always been this pretty? He picked up a random book and glanced at the back, not really reading the words.

“This one looks interesting,” he said, trying to keep the conversation going.

You looked at the book he was holding and chuckled. “That’s a romance novel, Sukuna.”

He quickly put the book back, feeling embarrassed. “Right, not exactly my style. What would you recommend for a beginner?”

You thought for a moment, then picked out a book and handed it to him. “Try this one. It’s a good start for anyone new to reading.”

He took the book, looking at the cover. “Thanks, bookworm. I’ll give it a shot.”

Both of you walked to the register together, and he paid for the book. As you stepped outside, he noticed a cozy coffee shop across the street. The warm lights and inviting atmosphere seemed like the perfect place to continue the conversation.

“Want to grab a coffee?” Sukuna suggested, surprising himself with how much he wanted to prolong your time together.

You looked pleased and nodded. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

You both walked over to the coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeting both of you as you entered. Sukuna wondered what kind of coffee you would order, trying to guess your tastes. When it was his turn, he ordered a black coffee, simple and strong. You, however, surprised him by ordering a hot chocolate.

The cashier rang up the total, and just as you were about to reach for your wallet, Sukuna handed over his card, paying for both of you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, looking a bit flustered.

He shrugged it off, trying to play it cool. “Consider it a thank you for helping me with the project. And the book recommendation.”

You smiled, your cheeks tinged with a slight blush. “Well, thank you, then.”

Both took their drinks and decided to take a walk, sipping and talking about random topics. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuinely content. Both of you discussed everything from favorite movies to childhood memories. Sukuna found himself opening up more than he expected, and he was amazed at how easy it was to talk to you. As you walked, Sukuna couldn’t help but compare this feeling to his usual encounters with MeiMei and his other hookups. With them, it was always superficial and fleeting. But with you, it felt different. More real, more meaningful.

Eventually you both arrived back at the dorms, and you turned to him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for today, Sukuna. I had a great time.”

Just as you were about to leave, Sukuna impulsively grabbed your arm, causing you to look up at him with those doe eyes that always made him feel like he was going to melt. He hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement.

“Hey, sorry, can I have your number?” he asked, his voice a bit softer than usual.

You blushed and looked down, shyness making you even more endearing. You nodded and took his phone, carefully entering your contact information. When you handed it back to him, fingers brushing slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“Here you go,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

He looked at the new contact in his phone and couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, bookworm. I’ll text you later.”

You nodded and you chuckled over your new nickname, still blushing. “Okay, see you.”

As Sukuna walked back to his dorm, he felt an unusual sense of happiness. It wasn’t just that he had a good time—he had plenty of fun at parties and with friends. This was different. He felt a genuine connection, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.

Sukuna stepped into his apartment, feeling strangely lighthearted. He placed the book you had recommended, "The Alchemist," on the kitchen island and headed to the fridge to find something to drink. After rummaging through the contents, he settled on a cold soda. Just as he closed the fridge door, Yuuji jumped out from behind it with a loud "Boo!"

"Jesus, Yuuji!" Sukuna exclaimed, nearly dropping his drink. "What the fuck, man?"

Yuuji burst into laughter, clutching his sides. "You should've seen your face, bro! Priceless!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, yeah, hilarious."

Yuuji’s eyes drifted to the book on the island. He squinted, recognizing the title, and then smirked. "Wait a minute... Is that a book? Sukuna, since when do you read books?"

Sukuna felt a blush creeping up his neck. "I read," he muttered defensively. "Stop being stupid.”

Yuuji snorted. "You read, huh? Bullshit. You don’t even read what you eat.”

Sukuna glared at his brother, but Yuuji's smirk only widened. "Saw you today at the library… with this girl… what was her name again? Y/N? Yeah… Y/N.”

The blush on Sukuna’s face deepened, and he struggled to maintain his composure. "We're just working on a project. That’s it."

Yuuji wasn't buying it. He leaned in closer, waggling his eyebrows. "Sure… does that project include going to bookstores and coffee shops? I saw you, idiot. I was buying some shoes next to that bookstore.”

Before Sukuna could come up with a retort, Choso walked in, catching the tail end of the conversation. "What's going on here?"

Yuuji turned to him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Guess what? Sukuna’s been hanging out with the bookworm. And he bought a book… because he “reads.” He said sarcastically

Choso raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Sukuna doesn’t even read the bills—”

Yuuji laughed, “Right? That’s what I said!”

"It's not like that," Sukuna protested, feeling cornered. "We're just working on a project together, and she recommended the book. That's all."

Choso nodded slowly, his expression turning mischievous. "Sure….”

Yuuji laughed, clapping Sukuna on the back. "Come on, Kuna, you can tell us. Do you like her?"

Sukuna could feel his face burning. "It's not like that," he insisted again. "We’re just...classmates."

Choso and Yuuji exchanged knowing looks, clearly enjoying their brother’s discomfort. "Sure, sure," Choso said. "But just so you know, if you need any dating advice, your little brothers are here to help."

“She seems like a good girl." Yuuji added with a wink. "I bet dad would like her.”

Sukuna groaned, wishing he could disappear. "You guys are the worst."

Yuuji grinned. "That's what brothers are for. So, when's your next study date?"

"It's not a date," Sukuna grumbled. "And I'm not telling you."

Choso chuckled. "Alright, keep your secrets. Just don’t get too distracted from your actual project."

Sukuna rolled his eyes. "I swear, you guys are so fucking annoying.”

Yuuji and Choso exchanged another amused glance but let the subject drop, for now. Sukuna grabbed his book and retreated to his room, trying to escape their teasing.

When he got to his room, he sat down on his bed, still holding the book and his phone with your number on it. He realized he was smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t care.

Sukuna found himself smiling at his phone more often than he'd like to admit. You and him had started texting regularly, and he genuinely enjoyed the conversations. You are easy to talk to, and he found himself sharing more about his day than he ever had with anyone else.

He liked updating you on his progress with "The Alchemist," surprising even himself with how invested he'd become in the story. He shared memes, too. You had a surprisingly sharp sense of humor, and your texts always made him laugh.

During practice, Sukuna would sneak glances at his phone, chuckling at your latest meme or comment. His teammates noticed, and curiosity buzzed among them.

"Yo, Sukuna, who are you texting so much?" Geto asked one afternoon, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Sukuna shrugged nonchalantly. "Just a friend."

Gojo, ever the instigator, leaned in with a smirk. "Is it MeiMei? Got a booty call lined up or something?"

Sukuna's smile didn't waver, and he simply shook his head. "Nope."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the genuine smile on Sukuna's face. "Hmm, really now? That smile of yours seems pretty genuine. Are you sure it’s not someone special?"

Sukuna looked up, meeting Gojo's eyes. He knew his friend was fishing for information, but he wasn't about to give in. "Just a friend," he repeated, but the slight blush on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed.

As practice ended and they all headed to the locker room, Gojo exchanged a glance with Geto. "What do you think?" he whispered.

Geto grinned. "I think our boy might actually be falling for someone. And it's definitely not MeiMei."

Back at his apartment, Sukuna sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand. He shot off another text to you, telling you about a particularly funny moment from practice. Almost immediately, your response popped up, and he couldn't help but smile again.

Sukuna: "You won't believe what happened at practice today. Gojo tried to dunk and ended up flat on his face. Classic."

Bookworm :) : "Haha, I can totally picture that. Is he okay?"

Sukuna: "Yeah, he's fine. Just bruised his ego a bit."

Bookworm :): "Poor Gojo. Btw, how's the book going? Any new revelations?"

Sukuna: "Actually, yeah. I'm starting to see why you like it so much. It's kind of... inspiring."

Bookworm :) : "Told you. It's a great read."

Sukuna: "You're a great recommender. Maybe you should suggest my next read."

Bookworm :): "I have a few ideas in mind. But only if you promise to actually read them."

Sukuna: "Deal."

As he put his phone down, Sukuna's thoughts drifted to you. You were different from anyone he'd ever known—intelligent, kind, and genuinely interested in the things he had to say.

The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows as students filed in, preparing for another day of lectures and notes. Sukuna was already seated, tapping his pen against his notebook, when Mahito walked over, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Sukuna," Mahito said, leaning against Sukuna's desk. "Big party today at my place. Spread the word, yeah?"

Sukuna nodded, matching Mahito's grin. "Got it. Should be a blast."

As Mahito walked away, Sukuna's eyes drifted across the room until they landed on you. You were quietly arranging your things, completely unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts running through his mind. He knew it wasn’t your usual scene, but the idea of you being there intrigued him. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

He needed to make progress on the bet, because… this was about the bet… is not that he wanted to see you, is not that the idea of you has been consuming his mind. As he approached you, he tried to act casual.

"Hey," he greeted you, taking the seat next to you.

You looked up from your notes and smiled, a gesture that made his heart skip a beat. "Hi, Sukuna."

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "So, there's this party at Mahito's place today since its a long week. I was thinking you should come. It'll be fun."

Your smile faltered slightly, and you looked a bit uneasy. "Oh, um, thanks, but I'm actually busy tonight.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. "Busy? Doing what?"

You hesitated, then sighed. "I'm going to a museum. They have a new exhibit I've been wanting to see."

"A museum?" Sukuna repeated, trying to hide his surprise. "You're going with someone?" He asked, his heart pounding.

"No, just me," you giggled, cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Seeing your flustered made Sukuna feel a pang of guilt. Here he was, trying to use you for a bet, and you were genuinely one of the sweetest people he'd ever met. "Hey, that actually sounds interesting," he said, surprising himself with his sincerity. "Mind if I tag along?"

You blinked, clearly taken aback. "You... want to come to the museum with me?"

"Yeah," Sukuna said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Why not?"

You looked down, clearly embarrassed. "I don't know, Sukuna. I feel like... it might not be your thing." You gave a small smile, “You’re just being nice…you don’t have to do this.”

He laughed softly. "Maybe not, but I'd like to give it a try. Besides, it's better than going to some noisy party, right?"

You bit your lip, contemplating his offer. "Alright, if you're sure."

"I'm sure," he said, his smile genuine. "So, what time should we meet?"

You smiled and he swear he almost melts.

The afternoon sun was gentle, casting a warm glow on the bustling city streets as Sukuna and you walked side by side towards the train station. You looked adorable in your floral satin dress, your outfit modest and tracing your curves. Your hair was down, two loose strands framing your face. Sukuna found himself captivated by your natural beauty and the soft, unassuming way you carried herself.

You pulled out a map, your fingers tracing the route you needed to take to reach the museum. You glanced up at Sukuna, a shy smile playing on your lips.

"Thanks for coming with me," you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the city's hum. "I know you had that party you could have gone to instead."

Sukuna shrugged, a small smirk forming on his lips. "There are always going to be other parties. I'm not worried about missing one." He paused, looking at you earnestly. "I want to create new experiences, you know? Do something different for a change."

You looked at him, your eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. "That's really sweet of you."

You continued walking, the conversation flowing more easily now. Sukuna asked you about your favorite museums and what you liked most about them. You animatedly talked about the different exhibits you have seen and the stories behind them. Sukuna found himself genuinely interested, watching your eyes light up with each new topic.

As you sat next to each other on the train, your shoulders occasionally brushing, Sukuna leaned in a little closer. "So, what's the best part of the museum we're going to?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You thought for a moment, then replied, "I think it's the interactive exhibits. They make you feel like you're part of the story, not just a spectator."

Sukuna nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Sounds interesting. I like the idea of being part of the story."

You smiled, feeling more at ease. "Yeah, it's a lot of fun. I think you'll enjoy it."

When you arrived at the stop, you continued the walk towards the museum. The city was bustling, but you both managed to carve out your own little bubble of conversation and laughter. Sukuna found himself enjoying your company more and more, appreciating the way you saw the world with such enthusiasm and wonder.

At one point, both of you stopped at a small park to rest for a moment. You took out your map again, double-checking their route. Sukuna watched you, amused by your determination. "You really like being prepared, huh?" he teased gently.

You looked up, blushing slightly. "I just don't want us to get lost."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'd follow you anywhere."

Your blush deepened, and you quickly turned your attention back to the map. Sukuna found your reaction adorable, and a warm feeling spread through him.

As you approached the museum, Sukuna could see the excitement building in your eyes. You were practically bouncing on your toes, and he couldn't help but smile. It felt good to see you so happy.

"Ready for our adventure?" he asked, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, fingers warm and soft in his. "Ready," you replied, your smile bright and genuine.

The party was in full swing at Mahito’s place. Bodies moved to the beat of the music, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. Mahito and his friends scanned the crowd, puzzled by the absence of Sukuna. Gojo, always observant, finally spotted Yuuji and Choso lounging by the snack table.

He approached them with a smirk. "Hey, you guys seen Sukuna? Mei Mei’s been blowing up his phone, and he’s MIA."

Yuuji, munching on a handful of pretzels, grinned. "Oh, Sukuna? He’s got a date tonight." He chuckled.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A date? With who? The fuck?”

Yuuji leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically. "The bookworm.”

Gojo’s eyes widened with amusement. He couldn’t believe that Sukuna has actually made progress with you. Was Sukuna able to pull anyone he wanted? He thought to himself "You mean Y/N? No way!"

Choso chuckled, shaking his head. "Yup, that's the one. Heard she is a good girl. She is good for Sukuna.”

Mei Mei, standing nearby, overheard the conversation. Her eyes narrowed with jealousy as she processed the information. Without a word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the party, leaving a trail of stunned onlookers in her wake.

Gojo, oblivious to Mei Mei’s reaction, clapped Yuuji on the shoulder. "Man, Sukuna must be working hard for those hundred bucks, huh?"

Yuuji’s grin faded, replaced by confusion. "What do you mean, hundred bucks?"

Gojo laughed, taking a swig of his drink. "Oh, you didn’t know? We made a bet. Hundred bucks says he can’t hook up with her."

Yuuji’s expression darkened, his hands balling into fists. "Sukuna did what? He put a price on someone’s feelings? On her? Are you guys fucking insane?"

Gojo, realizing he might have said too much, raised his hands defensively. "Hey, it’s just a bet, man. Nothing serious."

Yuuji rolled his eyes as he searched for his phone, “I swear sometimes yours and his brain are there as a decoration.”

Gojo realized that he may have put Sukuna in trouble and tried to ease problem, “Yuuji, come on. It’s just a silly bet.”

But Yuuji was already dialing Sukuna’s number, his face set with determination. When the call went straight to voicemail, he turned to Choso. "We need to find him. Now."

Choso nodded, his playful demeanor gone. The two brothers pushed their way through the crowd, urgency in their steps. Gojo watched them leave, a sense of unease settling in his gut.

“Fuck…”

The museum was an eclectic mix of contemporary and classical art, its walls adorned with pieces that ranged from the breathtakingly beautiful to the bewilderingly abstract. Sukuna walked beside you, casting sidelong glances at you as you moved from one exhibit to another with an easy grace. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, though he was secretly nervous about how the day would unfold.

As you stood in front of a particularly strange piece of modern art—a series of seemingly random splashes of paint on a massive canvas—Sukuna tilted his head, trying to make sense of it. "I don't get it," he admitted, glancing at you. "What's it supposed to mean?"

You laughed softly, a musical sound that made Sukuna's heart skip a beat. "Honestly? I don't get it either," you confessed. "I like to read about the artists and their intentions. Sometimes it helps to understand what they were trying to convey."

Sukuna felt a wave of admiration wash over him. "So, you learn about it to understand it better?"

You nodded. "Exactly. Sometimes things don’t make sense until you dig deeper and get to know the context behind them."

Sukuna found your words resonating with him on a deeper level. He realized that getting to know someone—or something—often required patience and effort. It was a lesson he hadn't fully appreciated until now.

Both of you continued walking through the museum, and Sukuna found himself genuinely interested in the art, largely because of your enthusiasm and insightful commentary. You moved from exhibit to exhibit, discussing the pieces and sharing both thoughts. As you walked, shoulders occasionally brushed against each other, a subtle but intimate connection that neither of you seemed to mind.

He was starting to enjoy this more than he expected.

At one point, both of you stood in front of a serene landscape painting, both of you lost in its tranquility. Sukuna glanced at you, noticing how the light played off your features, giving you an ethereal glow. His heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of warmth spreading through him. He was falling for you, and it was happening faster than he could comprehend.

After you had explored the entire museum, you stepped outside, only to find that it had started to rain. The drops came down heavily, quickly soaking the ground. Both of you looked around for shelter and found a small alcove with a roof that provided some protection from the downpour.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself to stave off the cold. Sukuna, without a second thought, shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. "Here, take this," he said, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in his chest.

You looked up at him, your doe eyes filled with gratitude. "T-Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Seeing you still shivering, Sukuna hesitated for only a moment before he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "You're still cold," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "This should help."

Your heart raced, your pulse quickening at the unexpected contact and he could feel it. You looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise and something else—something that made Sukuna's heart ache with a strange, new longing.

Without fully understanding what he was doing, Sukuna reached up and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your soft skin. Your faces were inches apart, and he could feel your breath mingling with his own. In that moment, everything else faded away—the night, the rain, the cold, the world around you. It was just the two of you, lost in a bubble of warmth and closeness.

Slowly, Sukuna leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a gentle, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as you both gave in to the feelings that had been building between you. Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his shirt as if you needed something to anchor herself to reality. This was your first kiss, and it felt like a dream—one that you never wanted to wake up from.

Sukuna felt his heart swell with emotions he hadn't known he was capable of feeling. He kissed you with a tenderness he hadn't shown anyone before, savoring the sweetness of the moment. When both of you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to process what had just happened.

Sukuna was speechless, unable to find the right words to convey the overwhelming feelings swirling inside him. He could only look at you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

Just then, his phone began to vibrate, breaking the intimate silence between you. Sukuna fumbled to pull it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen to see Yuuji's name flashing. He hesitated, torn between answering the call and staying in this perfect moment with you.

You gave him a gentle smile, understanding the conflict in his eyes. "Um…you should answer it," you said softly, stepping back slightly to give him space.

Sukuna nodded, still feeling dazed. He answered the call, his voice unsteady. "Y-yeah, Yuuji, what's up?"

“We need to talk. And it’s serious. Go home.” Yuuji said and Sukuna is worried about his brother tone.

His mind kept drifting back to the kiss, to the way you had looked at him, to the warmth that still lingered from your embrace.

You both walked in silence toward the train station, the only sounds between you were the patter of rain and your own footsteps. The air was thick with unspoken words, each of you lost in your own thoughts about the kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity. You worried that Sukuna regretted it, that maybe he saw you as a mistake—an odd, nerdy girl who didn't match his level. You bit your lip, glancing at him from the corner of your eye but finding no clues in his expression.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was wrestling with his own confusion. He had never anticipated falling for the girl he was supposed to win over for a bet. His heart felt heavy with the realization that he had genuinely fallen for you, but he was at a loss for how to navigate these new, intense feelings.

When you arrived at the station, boarded the train, still wrapped in silence. The ride felt interminable, each stop only heightening the tension between you. As you finally reached the stop and walked toward the dorms, Sukuna felt a growing sense of dread. He didn't want this night to end, didn't want to leave things unsaid.

Outside your dorm, you began to take off Sukuna's jacket, but he gently stopped you. “Keep it," he said softly, his voice betraying the turmoil inside him.

You looked up at him with your wide, doe-like eyes, then quickly looked away, misinterpreting his silence as rejection. You thought he must be disgusted, regretting the kiss, and that made your heart ache.

Sukuna watched as you fumble with your keys, a million thoughts racing through his mind. He was about to turn away, but then he heard the lock click open. Something snapped inside him, and he muttered, "Fuck it."

In a few quick strides, he was back at your side. He took your face in his hands and kissed you again, this time more passionately, with all the feelings he had been holding back. The rain poured down around you, drenching you both, but neither of you cared. The wind whipped through the corridor, making the moment feel even more intense.

When you finally broke apart, both of yoi breathless, Sukuna rested his forehead against yours. "You're cute," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "Text me when you go to bed, okay?"

Your face lit up with a genuine smile, your worries melting away. You nodded, unable to find the words to express how she felt.

Sukuna gave you one last lingering look before he turned and walked toward his own dorm. His heart was pounding, and a small smile played on his lips despite the rain and cold.

Yuuji and Choso sat in Sukuna’s apartment, a heavy silence hanging between them. The dim light from the kitchen cast long shadows, making the space feel tense and charged. Yuuji kept glancing at the door, while Choso leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, his face set in a stern expression.

Finally, the sound of keys jingling outside broke the silence. The door opened, and Sukuna walked in, looking tired but content. He paused when he saw his brothers, sensing the confrontation waiting for him.

"Hey," Sukuna greeted, trying to keep his tone light as he shut the door behind him. "What's up?"

Yuuji stood up, his face a mix of frustration and concern. "We need to talk."

Don’t forget to leave a comment <3

[its-avalon-08]

do u write for logan? im sorry if not but if yes can u please write a fic where he’s training and focused on not losing his seat so much that he’s neglecting y/n a little and she tries to understand but ends up felling sad and hurt anyways so he notices she’s distance and tries to fix things?

she's fading (ls2)

✦ pairing - logan sargeant x female!reader

✦ genre - neglecting, logan is stupid, comfort, tears, angst

Logan Sargeant was entrenched in his training, pushing himself to the limit every single day. The pressure to keep his seat was mounting, and his dedication was unwavering. Unfortunately, this dedication often came at the expense of his relationship with Y/N.

One evening, Y/N sat alone at the dining table, a small, decorated cake in front of her. The candle's flickering flame cast shadows across the room. She glanced at the clock, its hands marking another hour that Logan was late. Today was their anniversary, but it seemed Logan had forgotten.

Y/N picked up her phone and typed a message with a heavy heart.

Y/N: Hey, are you coming home soon?

She hit send and waited. Minutes turned into an hour with no response. Her disappointment deepened, but she knew this was becoming the norm.

Logan finally walked in, drenched in sweat and looking exhausted. He barely glanced at the table before heading to the kitchen.

"Hey, can you get me a coffee? I'm wiped out," he called out, oblivious to the cake and Y/N's somber expression.

"Logan…" Y/N began, her voice trembling.

"Just a coffee, Y/N," Logan repeated, not looking at her.

Y/N bit her lip, fighting back tears, and went to the kitchen. She prepared the coffee with shaking hands, feeling a fever starting to burn within her. As she handed him the mug, Logan finally noticed her pale face.

"Thanks," he said, taking the coffee without a second glance.

"Logan, can we talk?" she asked weakly.

"Can it wait, Y/N? I'm really tired," Logan replied, already heading towards the shower.

Y/N watched him go, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. She knew he was under immense pressure, but his constant neglect was taking a toll on her.

A few days later, Y/N lay in bed, shivering under a thick blanket. Her fever had spiked, and she felt too weak to move. She had called in sick from work, something she rarely did, and had hoped Logan would notice her absence.

Logan, however, was too absorbed in his training schedule. He came home briefly during lunch, rummaging through the kitchen for something quick to eat.

"Hey, Y/N, where's the protein shake powder?" he called out.

"It's… in the pantry," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan found the powder and quickly made his shake. As he was about to leave, he noticed Y/N's flushed face.

"You look terrible," he said bluntly. "Are you sick?"

"Yeah, I have a fever," she admitted, her eyes pleading for some acknowledgment.

"Oh, that sucks," Logan said, checking his watch. "I’ve got to head back to the track. Take some medicine, okay?"

Y/N stared at him in disbelief as he rushed out the door. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as the door closed behind him. She had never felt so alone.

Days later, Y/N's fever has reduced. She managed to get out of bed to attend an award ceremony for her work, where she was being recognized for a significant achievement. She had hoped Logan would come, but as the evening progressed, it became clear he wouldn't.

Standing on the stage, holding her award, Y/N scanned the audience for any sign of Logan. He was nowhere to be found. Her heart sank, and she forced a smile for the cameras, feeling the weight of his absence acutely.

That night, Logan came home late again, his mind still on his training sessions. Y/N sat on the couch, the award placed prominently on the table.

"Hey," she said softly as he walked in.

"Hey," Logan replied, barely glancing at her. "How was your day?"

Y/N gestured to the award. "I won this today."

Logan finally looked at it, his expression showing brief recognition. "Oh, wow. That's great, Y/N. Sorry I couldn't make it. Busy day."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears. "Logan, I needed you there. I need you now."

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. I just… I have so much on my plate right now."

Y/N scoffed and walked away.

time skip

One weekend, Oscar and Lily stopped by for a visit. They all sat in the living room, catching up on life. Lily turned to Y/N with a bright smile.

"Congratulations on your award, Y/N! That’s amazing! I am so so so proud of you! I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed.

Y/N smiled, grateful for the acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lily."

Logan, sitting beside her, nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, congrats."

Oscar shot Logan a look. "Mate, don’t you think you should be a bit more excited for Y/N?"

Logan glanced up, confused. "Huh? Oh, yeah, of course. Great job, Y/N."

Y/N’s smile faltered, the hollowness of his words cutting deeper than any outright neglect. She excused herself, retreating to the kitchen where she leaned against the counter, trying to hold back her tears.

Lily followed her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Y/N shook her head, the tears finally spilling over. "I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Lily."

Lily hugged her, offering silent support. "You deserve better, Y/N. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re not important."

Y/N nodded, wiping her eyes. She knew Lily was right, but her heart ached with the weight of loving someone who seemed to be slipping away. Her silent sobs shook her gentle frame and Lily hugged her.

Back in the living room, Oscar nudged Logan. "You really need to step up, Logan. You’re going to lose her if you keep this up. Look at her Lo. Her spark, it's gone."

Logan frowned, glancing towards the kitchen where he could hear Y/N’s muffled sobs. A wave of guilt washed over him, but the realization of what he needed to do came too late. The damage was done, and he could only hope it wasn’t irreversible.

After Oscar and Lily left, Logan sat on the couch, his mind racing. He couldn't shake off Oscar's words or the image of Y/N's tear-streaked face. He decided to observe her behavior, needing to understand just how much his neglect had affected her.

Y/N moved around the apartment with a practiced grace, tidying up after their guests. She brought Logan a plate of dinner without a word, a habit formed from countless evenings eating alone. Logan watched her, noticing the way she quietly went about her routine, her eyes distant and sad.

"Thanks," he said, his voice breaking the silence.

"You're welcome," Y/N replied softly, sitting down at the other end of the table, her plate already half-eaten.

They ate in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words. Logan's heart ached as he realized how accustomed she had become to his absence. She no longer looked at him with anticipation, no longer waited for him to initiate conversation. She was used to being alone, even when he was physically present.

After dinner, Y/N washed the dishes while Logan sat at the table, his mind spinning. When she finished, she walked past him to the bedroom, pausing at the door.

"Goodnight, Logan," she said, her voice void of the warmth it once held.

He watched her go, a lump forming in his throat. He followed her to the bedroom, standing in the doorway as she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Logan took a deep breath, stepping inside. "Y/N?"

She turned towards him, barely visible in the dim light. "Yes?"

Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts as he sat beside Y/N. The weight of his neglect and the pain he'd caused her pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to find the right words. But he knew this was his moment to lay everything bare, to show her just how much she meant to him.

"Y/N," he began, his voice trembling. "I don't even know where to start. I’ve been so caught up in my own world, in my career, that I’ve completely neglected the most important person in my life. You. And for that, I am so deeply sorry."

He looked into her eyes, seeing the hurt and the longing there. "You’ve been so patient with me, so understanding, and I took that for granted. I thought that just because you were always there, I didn’t need to make an effort. But I was wrong. So very wrong."

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. "Every time I missed an important moment in your life, every time I put my career before you, I was chipping away at the foundation of our relationship. I see that now. I see how much I’ve hurt you, and it tears me apart. I see that now. I see how you’ve had to get used to eating alone, how you’ve stopped waiting for me to kiss you goodnight. And it breaks my heart.""

Logan took her hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "You are everything to me, Y/N. You are the reason I push myself so hard, the reason I want to succeed. But I lost sight of what truly matters. I thought that by focusing on my career, I was doing it for us, for our future. But what good is a future if I lose you in the process?"

He paused, his voice breaking with emotion. "I miss you, Y/N. I miss your smile, your laughter, the way you light up a room just by being in it. I miss the way we used to talk for hours, sharing our dreams and fears. I miss holding you close, feeling your heartbeat against mine. I miss us."

Logan's tears flowed freely now, his heart laid bare. "You are my rock, my anchor, the person who keeps me grounded. Without you, none of this means anything. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to me because I was too blind to see it."

He tightened his grip on her hands, his voice filled with desperation and love. "I promise you, Y/N, I will change. I will make more time for us, for you. I will be there for every important moment, every small victory, and every tough day. I will show you every single day how much you mean to me, how much I love you."

Logan took a deep breath, his voice steadying. "I know it won’t be easy, and I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Because you are worth it, Y/N. Our love is worth it. And I will never, ever take you for granted again."

He looked into her eyes, his own filled with sincerity and devotion. "I love you more than words can ever express. Please, give me the chance to prove it to you, to show you that I can be the man you deserve. I promise you, with all my heart, that I will never let you down again."

Logan held her gaze, his heart pounding with the hope that she could see the depth of his love and the truth in his words. This was his moment of redemption, his chance to make things right, and he vowed to never let her slip away again.

Y/N couldn't hold back her emotions any longer. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Logan, burying her face in his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. Logan held her close, his own tears mingling with hers, relieved and overwhelmed by her response.

"I love you, Logan," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Logan held her even tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so sorry."

They stayed embraced for a long moment, finding solace in each other’s arms. Finally pulling back slightly, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.

"I believe you," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips through the tears. "Let’s make this work, Logan. Together."

Logan nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude and determination. "Together," he repeated, brushing a stray tear from her cheek before kissing her gently.

In that moment, surrounded by their shared love and the promise of a renewed commitment, Logan knew that their relationship was stronger than ever. They had weathered a storm together and emerged with a deeper understanding of each other’s needs and a renewed sense of purpose.

[miniwheat77]

Alone with you. (141 x Reader.)

!smut, p in v sex, double penetration, gang bang, overstimulation, non con, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

This was supposed to be my bday fic but I’ve had writers block, hope you enjoy!

"So this is the culprit hm?" Laswell lifts up the bottle of pheromone perfume.

"Looks like it." You mumble. "Wonder how good it actually works. Might spice up my sex life." You joke. Soap laughs. "What sex life?" he snorts. Seeing Laswell roll her eyes at the both of you. "Exactly my point. Asshole." You mumble under your breath.

When Soap leaves the room, Laswell smirks at you. "I'm sure in super small doses it couldn't hurt." She winks. You catch the tiny vial in your hand that she had just thrown at you. You smile at her. "And that's why you're my favorite, Laswell." You laugh, following her out of her office. Tucking the vial into your back pocket. "Alright. I'm heading out. Graves said he has some leads in North America so I'll be over there for a couple weeks. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone." She smiles. "No promises. As always, safe travels Laswell. Ring when you get to where you're going." You call to her. She nods her head, waving at you. You disappear down the corridor, going to your room.

———

Later that same night, you make your way into the mess hall, cup in hand. It's got water in it. You haven't had the chance to eat yet. You sit down for just a second and a gasp leaves your lips when you hear a small pop come from your back pocket. "Shit." You mumble. You hear the others coming and choose to stay put, only turning to look at your backside when they're distracted. You notice that there's no liquid anymore. Had it absorbed that quickly?

You quickly head back to your room, trying to clean all of the glass out of your pocket. You change into some other leggings that you have since it's almost time for bed anyway it's not like anyone will care.

You make your way back out into the mess hall and take your seat once more. Seeing that Soap has set up across from you at the table. It's silent for the most part, until Soap starts to shuffle awkwardly. He clears his throat a couple of times, finally looking up at you. Only now does he suddenly feel very attracted to you. He was before of course but now, something is different. He clears his throat again and adjusts the way he's sitting. You glance around the room to see each of them stealing glances at you.

Is it the pheromone perfume doing this?

No… it couldn’t be. It was only a tiny vial.

You stand up to get rid of your tray and move to sit back down. “Y/N. Can I speak with you?” Your Captain grasps your attention. You nod your head, following him out to the hallways. “Did Laswell give you the pheromone perfume?” He crosses his arms. “Yeah, I was supposed to throw it away for her but I forgot about it and it broke open in my pocket.” He shakes his head. “Listen, the scent you’re giving off is way too much. Go lock yourself in your room and stay there until it’s worn off.” He finishes his sentence and then grits his teeth, like he’s holding something back. “Go on.” He breathes. You can’t help but notice the beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod your head. As you start walking down the corridor, you hear him.

“No, Johnny wait!” You turn back to see Soap trying to push passed him. Very clearly trying to get to you.

You hurry down the hallway and open the door to your room, closing the door behind you. “Jesus fuck.” You mumble to yourself. Is this stuff really this strong?

You take a deep breath, sitting at the edge of your bed.

For a couple hours, you hear nothing but silence. And it’s a bit deafening. It’s eerie like there’s something off. You lay down, trying to distract yourself but you end up falling asleep.

In your sleep, you feel someone moving next to you, dipping the edge of your bed down. You stir awake when you feel their hands on you. When you realize what’s going on, that someone is actually touching you, your eyes open completely. You jump away from them, seeing that it’s Soap. But he’s not there right now. His eyes are dark. “Johnny… what are you doing?” You breathe. “You smell so good lass. Can smell how fucking bad you want this…” he smirks. He moves off of your bed, circling around it to try to corner you. You make a split second decision and bolt for the door, sprinting down the hallway. You can hear his heavy footsteps chasing after you. You turn the corner, eyes widening and your feet skidding to a stop as you see your Captain and Gaz. They’re both standing there. Clearly blocking you from going this direction. “Nowhere to run, darling.” Gaz smirks. You breathe out.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

Soap closes in behind you, they make slow steps toward you.

You take off through the mess hall. Seeing a window that opens and hurrying up to it, you pry it open and climb through it. Sliding out of their grasp just barely. You take off running, seeing the watch tower. Perfect.

You make your way up, slowly and quietly. You don’t know if they’re on watch since they’re not thinking right.

You move up inside, closing the door behind you. Breathing. You dig your phone out of your pocket, dialing Laswell immediately. “Y/N, I haven’t got to base just yet, I’m driving.” She mumbles. “I know- it’s not that.” You breathe, hands shaking. “The vial you gave me broke open in my pocket and my body absorbed all of it, now I’m in a freaking wild goose chase Laswell.” You pant. “What? It’s that bad?” She asks. “Yes! They’re like.. freaking zombies Laswell. They’re not even there.” You breathe. “You’ll just have to wait it out Y/N.” She mumbles. “Yeah.. Yeah I know.” You mumble. “Thanks Laswell.” You sigh.

You hear creaking, fear coursing through you. Just as you turn to look at the door, a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you into them, another hand clamping around your mouth. “Gotcha.” He whispers. His voice is deep and it comes out almost as a growl.

It’s Ghost.

He moves his other hand from your waist and grasps your phone, pressing the button to hang up. Lowering the phone down onto the countertop. “Didn’t lock the door sweetheart. Almost like you wanted this to happen hm?” He breathes, his warm breath right over your ear. “You know we’re not gonna hurt ya.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Ghost, please-“ you whine. “You smell so good. Drives me crazy. I almost didn’t want to tell them you were up here.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen.

Just then, you can hear multiple footsteps coming up the metal staircase. Like everything is deafened around you and that’s all you can hear.

What are they going to do to you?

Ghost spins you around. You see the other three creeping into the room, Soap makes sure to lock the door behind himself. “Nowhere to run now, Dove. It’s just you and us now.” Gaz mumbles, stepping closer. You step back. But know it’s no use. You’re stuck, and whatever is going to happen, it’s happening now. “What are you going to do?” You swallow hard. Johnny chuckles. “Nothing you won’t like, darling. How about we get these clothes off of you, hm?”

“I- I don’t-“

“That wasn’t a question. It was an order.” Captain Price’s voice booms in your ears. His sternness always was intimidating. “Y-yes sir.” You breathe. You hope that as you reach for the hem of your shirt, they’ll start laughing. That this will be some kind of sick joke. But they don’t.

You tug your shirt over your head. Breathing out. You clench your eyes shut as they reach for their belts. Still dressed in their military uniforms. “Y/N. Look at me.” You tilt your head up, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you look at Johnny. “Nothing to be scared about. Just relax.” He chuckles. You nod your head. He reaches out, grasping hold of your upper arm and pulling you into him with ease. How easy it is for him to move you makes you realize just how powerful these men are. He forces you up against the small table in the watch tower. It’s old and you’re not sure if it’ll hold you.

You swallow hard, wincing as the table begins to dig into your pelvis. He makes you rest your hands on it. “Be a good girl.” He breathes. His voice sends chills down your spine. He reaches for your pants, tugging them down your legs. He holds them down with his foot, having you step out of them. “Good girl. Now listen.” He breathes. He raises his hands up, unclasping your bra and letting it fall over your shoulders and onto the floor. “Nobody will hear you, so you can be as loud as you want to. Alright? You’re going to like this, because you’re a naughty little thing. Promise.” He mumbles. He pushes you back down, forcing you over the table. A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes apart your legs.

He frees his cock from its confines and you can see the others standing off to the side. You clench your eyes shut once more, whining as he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes himself past your entrance, sliding in and bottoming out into you. You lurch forward with a hiss at the intrusion. “Oh- f-fuck!” You cry. Raising up slightly with a cry. He only forces you back down. “Shhh. It’s okay.” His attempt at soothing you is pathetic and half-assed. If you weren’t in this particular position, you might laugh at him.

But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at them the same ever again.

You rest your head on the table, breathing out. Take a deep breath, try not to lose control.

That’s hard to do, keeping yourself together around them when they’re as attractive as they are. And the way they’re touching you.

Just as soon as you’re full, he’s pulling out of you again. He lifts you up, shoving the flimsy table out of the way and kneeling on the ground with you. Ghost steps toward you and you look up at him, he’s still got his mask on. You can’t see his smile. “Look good from this position, darling.” He smirks. You swallow hard, he moves his jeans to the side and tugs his boxers down, revealing his length to you. He’s big. You swallow hard, looking down. “No need to be nervous now. Look at me.” He breathes. You tilt your head up again, feeling Johnny kneel behind you, moving his length up the expanse of your ass. You shudder as Simon steps forward. “Open your mouth.” He breathes. You’re trying to stay focused on Simon but the feeling of Johnny’s length pushing into you from behind has you wincing again. “Relax. Look up at me.” He lifts your chin forcefully. Pushing the tip of his cock past your lips. You take him down as far as you can, swallowing around his shaft. Hearing him gasp.

“Johnny touch her clit.” He breathes.

Johnny does it, listening to his LT.

He glides his hand over your hip and stomach. Calloused hands rough on your skin but his fingertips on your clit has your thighs ready to give out. He draws his hips back, thrusting back into your ass. Hearing you choke on Simon’s cock. You draw back, taking a deep breath. You rest your hands on his thighs, pulling him closer to you so that you can take him further down. “There.. see.” He breathes. “All you had to do was make her horny.” His laugh is deep and taunting. He tilts his head back, groaning out. You focus on the tip of his cock, knowing it’s got the most nerve endings. Being gentle but still sucking hard. It only takes a couple of minutes before his thighs are shaking.

“Fuck-“ he draws back away from you. “Wanna be in that pussy.” He breathes. “Gonna make me cum too fast.” He breathes.

He kneels down in front of you. Wiping your lips of saliva and clearing them. Johnny’s hard thrusts into you keep you wet, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from your clit. “It’s alright. Gonna get you nice and full lass.” Soap chuckles. You probably look fucking pathetic in front of them. Fucked out and desperate. You knew you needed to get laid but this…

This is too far. But it’s something you didn’t know you needed.

They raise you up, wrapping your legs around Simon’s waist. Johnny slides himself back inside of your ass, feeling you tense up. Simon glides his tip up between your folds, pushing past them. You whine out, starting to squirm. “S’alright.” He breathes. His voice is low. Only you can hear it. When they’re both bottoming out in you, your breath is gone. Lungs are empty and burning. You’re trying to catch your breath but it feels impossible. A sob gets caught in your throat and you clench your eyes shut as they start to fuck you. “Fuck- not gonna last-“ Johnny hisses. Ghost holds you still, both of them moving in unison as they thrust into you. You shake and cry, overstimulated and you haven’t even cum yet.

“Fuck!” Johnny slides out of you, pumping himself with his hand. He bucks his hips into you, resting his forehead on your back as he finishes. Simon doesn’t stop his thrusts, keeping up his bruising pace.

Johnny moves away from you, he’s been selfish thus far. It’s someone else’s turn.

Gaz takes his place. Desperate to feel you. He inches closer, spitting into his hand and gliding it over the tip of his cock. He slides into you again. Feeling you gasp out. Lurching foward into Simon. He laughs. “You’re doing good. Keeping up.” Ghost mumbles.

Gaz grips your hips and tries to hold you still as he and Simon fill you. You can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Shivering as it inches closer and closer.

Chills start at your toes and work their way up your body.

“I- oh god-“ you whine.

You clench your eyes shut, letting it take over your body. You’re sure it’ll be the hardest you’ll ever cum. They don’t stop, riding out your orgasm as it washes over you. You know they’re not going to stop.

You relax, trying to pace yourself despite being overstimulated. You raise your hand up and rest it on Simon’s shoulder. Hearing Gaz chuckle behind you at your fucked out state. Simon’s breathing is getting a little heavier. He lowers his head, lips right by your ear. “So tight baby… getting me so close.” He grits his teeth. He starts to pant, cock throbbing and twitching inside of you. He groans out, sliding out of you. He grits his teeth and tries to contain himself as he cums.

He takes a second, panting. His head is buried into the crook of your neck as he comes down. He finally pulls away from you. Standing up and adjusting his pants.

Captain Price is quick to take his place. You’re ready to tap out but it’s clear that they’re not going to let you. Gaz grasps your chin, tilting your head back. “You’re doing good. Just a bit more.” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. You can feel your captain’s hands on you, groping your breasts in his hands as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You still smell so good.” He growls. Gaz lets go of you and you finally get a good look at John. His eyes are dark, like the others. Their pupils are dilated, they look dark. Empty. Like there’s nothing there, only lust.

What the hell is this stuff and who made it?

You whine again as he slides into you. Tears filling your eyes. You clench your eyes shut and brace yourself for what they’re going to do to you. You rest your head on John’s chest as they start fucking into you mercilessly, John is desperate. He’s been waiting the longest. He’s eager and horny and the way he fucks you shows it. You’re sobbing into his chest in just minutes, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Your body shakes and you can feel the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen again. You can’t stay quiet. Moans spill from your lips uncontrollably and tears stream from your eyes. You’ve never been so overwhelmed in your life. “Do you feel good? Hm?”

“Yes!” You cry. ���Tell me how good you feel.” He breathes. Forcing you to look up at him. “Tell me how good all of us have made you feel. And it better be good honey. Let everyone know how good they’ve fucked you today.” He forces your face up again by your jaw. “It feels so good- so so good- you’re fucking me so good.” A gasp leaves your lips as they thrust together at the exact same time. “Now what do you say hm? It was kind of us to fuck you.”

“Thank you!” You cry, head falling again. You chant it as they thrust into you. “That’s a good girl.” He chuckles.

They last another few minutes, but this time, neither of them pull out. Filling both of your holes up.

They ride out their highs before halting, cocks buried up inside of you still. You’re panting hard, clit throbbing. You don’t know how you’ve taken it or kept up with them to this point.

It’s Soap who lifts you up and carries you to your room. Your thighs shake uncontrollably and he helps you get cleaned up before putting you to bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable. And even when he leaves you alone, he’s still got that same dark look in his eyes.

Maybe you wouldn’t wake up alone.