#definitely didn't have to stretch this out way more than i should have

[eupheme]

— honey, honey

[part ii of sugar, sugar] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 5.2k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, miscommunication, immature humor, wingman!wade, light angst, oral sex, spitting, fingering, unprotected PiV, begging, floor sex

Even after you wake up alone, and almost late for work, it doesn’t deter your interest in your neighbor - especially after the night you shared.

(Or - a miscommunication, and the following through of two late-night promises.)

You awake to the blare of Dolly Parton's '9 to 5'. 

A time you wish your work schedule followed. Groggy with sleep as you reach for your phone, hitting snooze on your way-the-fuck-too-early alarm. 

Collapsing back on your pillows, as the night before comes rushing back to you.

The party. Meeting Logan. Coming back to your apartment after. 

An ache between your thighs that you definitely didn't have the morning before. Sitting up with a start, heart racing as your hand stretches out on the right side of the bed.

The sheets are cool, in-between the deep rips in the fabric.

You don't remember him leaving.

Had drifted off with an arm slung around your waist, one of the hardest sleeps of your life. Something inside you twists, leaving behind the sharp tang of disappointment. 

It's not unusual, you suppose. You'd had your fair share of fuck-and-go's, and had even committed a few yourselves. But you thought last night had felt different.

There had been a connection, you were sure of it. The way he had touched you, kissed you- 

You had just hoped...

The snoozed alarm goes off, and you catch the time. Forty-five minutes before than your usual alarm - the numbers shocking you into action. 

Set earlier to accommodate a last minute change for a wedding - all of the cupcakes needing to be repackaged before the mother of the bride came at seven. 

And you had volunteered, do-gooder that you were.

"Shit!” You hiss, scrambling out of bed. A whirlwind as you throw clothes on, banging into the bathroom to get ready.

Still muttering as you blow through the kitchen, snatching up your bag and keys. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?" You grouse to yourself, skipping your usual morning coffee - you'll have to grab it on the way, "God, I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

The door slams behind you - as you rush down the steps, and out into the streets.

His claws unsheath with the bang of the door. Awakened from a dead sleep, his heartbeat jolting as he's thrown back into another life, in another world. 

It takes him a full minute to come back down. His surroundings unfamiliar, the room still bathed in darkness. 

A groan, when he remembers. The claws slipping back beneath, a sharp twinge as his skin knits back together. 

It's too early for the late night he shared with you. Should have thought about you working in the morning, might have held back from the extra round the night before. 

Had meant to wake up before you, slip back into bed as you dozed. You had dropped off in his arms the night before, lulled to sleep after he had coaxed two more orgasms from you, with the slow pump of his hips and circle of his fingers. 

Dragging himself out to the couch once your breathing had gone steady. Tugging the homemade afghan off a nearby armchair, wrapping it around him as his eyes fixed on the door. Keeping watch, as he did next door.

Lulled to sleep, thinking about you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment now, the slightest pull of his lips at the memory. 

Flinching again, when you barrel out of the bathroom. The light makes him squint - you haven’t seen him yet, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. Your name soft hush on his lips, until he hears your angry muttering. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?"

"God I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

Your tone laced with anger, woven in with the sharp tang of remorse. 

The realization is a douse of ice-cold water, rising away the last dregs of sleep. Leaving him staring at the door as you yank it shut behind you. 

Scowling, as he pushes himself up. 

Nearly ripping the denim as he tugs his jeans back on. Finding his white tank and discarded flannel in your room, right where he had stripped them off the night before.

His jaw works, replaying your words.

He should have known. Shouldn’t have listened to Wade. Shouldn’t have listened to you. Shouldn’t have let himself hope. 

And for the second time, your door slams shut. 

You think about Logan all morning, even as you put out fires at work. 

The boxes exchanged - two-hundred and fifty rustic, individual cardboard carriers exchanged for sleek and shiny white ones, tied with a bow. The memory that runs through your mind even staves off your irritation at the last-minute work, a peppy smile and wave as you hand the boxes off. 

The 'tied-up-in-knots' is a feeling that echoes in your belly. Your fondness for Wade is starting to come back, after the way you were ready to write him off for that absolute debacle of an introduction. 

You'd been expecting something a little more... natural. Normal. A "hey, have you met my neighbor?" not one of the most embarrassing things you've had to live through with a near-stranger. 

Maybe you should have known better.

But with the way the night ended, you can't bring yourself to be mad. Letting yourself get distracted as you replay the night, again - almost grabbing the wrong tube of icing as your mind wanders back.

Not only thinking about the way he felt - those wandering hands and how perfectly he fit inside you, how he had completely fucked your brains out - but him as well. 

The conversations. The tiny crack you had made in his armor, the way he had shown you his claws. The drift of his fingers against your skin, when he had asked why you had gone to Wade. 

You’re thankful you’re working in the back today, with the way your skin heats from chest to ears. Quiet mutterings to get it to together. 

And as the afternoon finally starts to lull, you find yourself gathering ingredients.

It wouldn't take long to make something small. The recipe is one you know by heart. 

Maybe you can drop it off tonight. Maybe it will erase whatever you did to drive him from your bed and back to his apartment in the middle of the night. Maybe it will be a nice way to let him know you’re thinking of him.

Vanilla, flour, powdered sugar. Fresh, sliced strawberries.

Maybe you have it bad. 

The box is tucked under your arm when you knock on Wade’s door. It’s still early in the afternoon - the hallways bright, traffic buzzing outside.

You fidget with the strap of your dress - something breezy, but still a little cute. An attempt to look like you have it together with looking like you tried too hard - something easier said than done.

There’s a fluttering twitch behind your ribs when the door opens. That curl of hope squashed when it’s not Logan that answers, but Wade.

You’re quick to fix your expression, offering him a smile, “Morning! Late night?”

“Is it a late night if it’s still going?” A yawn, as he scratches at his ribs - fingers digging into the fabric of his cropped tee, “We’re four seasons deep into a Supermarket Sweep marathon. If I could go back in time again…”

The tv blares in the background, Al sitting in an armchair. The couch from the night before still sits empty, no sign of Logan. 

Not that you’re checking. 

“You’d… want to host?” You offer, eyebrows raising. 

“God no. Can you imagine me in those sweaters? Way too much polyester.” He chuckles, “No, Blind Al and I would sweep. Pun intended.”

Your head tilts, nose scrunching.

“I see you make that face, but that woman knows every goddamn aisle.” Wade sighs fondly, before he’s jolting - eyes fixing on you, “But enough about the biggest regret in my life, how was your night?”

“Oh,” You manage, “It’s was good-”

“Just good?” He scoffs, “He gave you the greatest show and you’re saying it’s just good?”

A huff, muttered under his breath, ”Can’t remember the last time I took the skin boat to tuna town like that. Surprised you’re still walking.”

The noise you make is ugly - a broken groan. Embarrassment flooding with your nerves, cheeks heating, “If you must know, it was great. Lots of wholesome, adult conversation.”

“Uh huh. And a good, old-fashioned railing.” His tongue tucks against his teeth, “I get it! I’ve had him inside me too, it was quite the experience.”

That has you pausing. A beat, as curiosity wells in you, “You mean…?”

“Well, it was his claws,” Wade sighs wistfully, “But how different can it be?”

You huff.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

His brow lifts, “It is, according to the internet.”

“Sure, Wade. The Internet.” Your eyes roll, as you shift - adjusting the box as it rests against your hip, “Speaking of though, is he, uh, home?” 

Wade doesn’t hear you. His eyes have already dropped, just noticing what you’re carrying. A tilt of his head as he peers through the transparent film on top. 

“What is that?” His finger pokes the box, and your eyes dip down

“It’s nothing,” You start - but you know he won’t let it drop, “Well, actually, it’s - I uh, made him a-”

The words peter out lamely, as you hold up the box. Wade’s teeth sink into the side of his lip, as he bites back a cackle. 

“Did you seriously bake him a ‘thanks-for-the-sex’ cake?” 

You blink, “No!”

A pause, as mortification wells in you.

“Oh my god,” It’s a whisper, as your hand drags across your face, “Oh my god, Wade. I baked him a sex cake.”

You shove at him as he laughs - his hands sneaking beneath your arm to wrestle the box away from you, “Mm, you’ve got it bad, girlfriend. This is pretty embarrassing, real hard to come back from.”

“There was context!” You insist, reaching for it, “Give that to me.”

Wade twists - pivoting away from you, “Oh ho, not a chance, Sugarplum.”

Your forearm presses into his chest as you lunge at him, but it’s all too easy for him to set the box on the cluttered end-table, barring you as he closes the door - trapping you both out in the hallway. 

“He earned it, from what I heard,” He chuckles, “And are you really gonna take it away from him?”

You’re still mentally, and possibly physically, cringing. Leaning against the wall, while he blocks the door. 

Wade is still grinning, a sigh as his arms cross,“God, I wish he was here.”

And for the first time all day, you’re glad he’s not. It had seemed like a sweet idea but you’re left feeling like an idiot now - already planning on trying to sneak back in and grab it when Wade isn’t looking. 

“He’s not?” You’re fishing. Hook and bobber, a flick as you cast out your heart, fingers on the reel. Pathetic, perhaps, but you can’t resist, “You think he’ll be back tonight?”

“Ooh, the real reason you stopped by. I see how it is.” He sniffs, “But no, I’ve got no idea. Left this morning with Laura, something about a job.”

A beat, before he adds, “Which about time, bee tee dubs. Great face card, but Old Wadey here is about to go into overdraft.”

“Laura?” You parrot, without thinking. A frown creasing your brow, the slightest downturn of your lips.

He catches the expression immediately. 

Wade smirks, “Ooh, you are looking so green, Sugar. Never took you for the jealous type.”

An inhale of air between his teeth, head tilting as his hands brace on his hips, “God I could make this so complicated right now. Drag this whole thing out to another chapter, but I won’t, because I just so happen to like you.”

A beat, before he puts you out of your misery, “Laura’s his daughter. Well, this world’s Logan’s daughter. Well, he’s the baby daddy, but there’s no mom. Well, it’s complicated.”

“Oh.” You manage. Another detail to keep up with, something you tuck away with the rest. To ask Logan about later, when you see him - a feeling that he might be a little more coherent in his explanation.

“I’m sure you’ll meet her.” Wade smiles, “Good kid, I mean, as good as you can be with that as a father figure. So much trauma.”

You hum. He had hinted at that. You couldn’t believe that his world didn’t want him. Not sure what could have happened to have him all but warn you the night before.

As if it would make you not want him. 

There’s a beat, before his hands are resting on his hips, “Okay. I need to go back to the apparently-contextual-sex-cake.” 

You groan, slumping against the wall - the heels of your palms digging into your closed eyes.

“I thought it was embarrassing but I gotta admit that I’m jealous. It’s really bothering me that no one’s ever baked me a cake, because I’m a very tender and generous lover.”

“That wasn’t why. He seemed interested in trying a non-phallic version of the cake I made for you,” You try to keep it professional, but he’s already smirking, “Which thank you for bringing up by the way, really broke the ice.”

“Without me you’d still be at ‘favorite colors’,” Wade’s smile widens, before he sighs longingly, “And god, that cake was good. Best dick I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

You snort, “So far, right?”

His eyes widen.

“You little slut, are you shopping for a third already?” Wade twists the doorknob - opening it a crack with his yell, “Al, it’s happening!”

“No,” You laugh, “I just meant-, I meant I might get better.”

“Can’t beat perfection. And I would know, with a face like this.”

There’s a high-pitched yap then, the sound of nails scratching at the wooden door. 

“Ooh, duty calls. Pun intended. Again.” He thumbs over his shoulder, “I’ll tell him you stopped, by if-”

You give him a look, but a grin still tugs at your lips, “If I do that other thing you’re always asking me to do.”

His hand presses against his chest, in mock-offense.

“I can’t believe you’d say that! I was going to say if you don’t see him first.”

It makes you smile. Fondly, even. 

“Thanks, Wade.”

His hand pats your shoulder. 

“Any time, Sugar. My holes are always open.”

You sigh. 

You don’t see him until late in the evening. 

The afternoon ticking by. Telling yourself you don’t care - to play it cool - only to turn around and try to convince yourself that open communication is the way to go.

Vegging out in front of the television for a while - trying to figure out what to order for dinner. Narrowing it down to two takeout locations when there’s a series of bangs in the hallway.

Layered voices. 

You can’t help but look. Half-nosy and half-worried for Wade, even if he did have mutant powers. Even if you can’t offer much for backup, it doesn’t stop you from cracking open the door. 

“-open the goddamn door right now, I’ll break it down.”

The growling voice is one you’ve come to know, even if it’s angrier than you’ve ever heard.

The side of Logan’s fist colliding with the door frame, his shoulder pressed up against the wooden door.

“Not a chance, Jack Torrance.” Wade’s voice is muffled, “Always wanted to be an uncle and you are not ruining this for me-”

The doorknob rattles under his grip, as he snarls, “You roped me into this, shithead. All that talk about getting to know-“

“New York’s Cupid is never wrong! Don’t you dare ruin my streak!”

It’s then that Logan sees you - the snarl on his face flickering. Expression going flat.

A final filthy glare shot at the door before he steps away. The calculated look he throws your way makes you think he’s considering making for the end-of-the-hall staircase instead.

What is happening? 

A beat, before his jaw grits. Hand shoving into the pocket of his jeans. Closing the gap between you only to thrust out a rolled-up bundle of bills, secured with a rubber band. 

“For the mattress.” 

There’s a frustrated rumble in his throat when you don’t take it - too busy frowning, your eyes flicking from the bills to his face.

“I don’t want that?” It comes out like a question, as you try to put the pieces together. 

“Just take it.” He grits. Eyes dropping, “You can replace your mattress and we can forget last night happened, if you regret it so much.”

You blink.

“I don’t regret last night, Logan.” Your hands brace on your hips, “You were the one that left. Which is fine, if that’s how you like things to go, but don’t you dare point your finger-”

Logan scoffs, interrupting you.

“I didn’t leave.” His tongue licks against his teeth, as his head shakes, “I slept on the couch. Perfect place to hear your rant this morning.”

Your hands brace on your hips, “My rant?”

“Yeah, Sugar.” He’s stepping into your space - and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but something about how you’re bumping up against the door has your heart racing, “Heard everything you said. How ‘fucking dumb you are’, how you regret it.”

A beat, as you process - a thunk, as you head tips back against the door. Everything becoming clear, and you almost laugh. 

He hadn’t left.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” 

His frown deepens.

Your face softens, “How could I think that? I spent all day thinking about you. I was mad at myself for taking an early shift, instead of getting that extra time with you.”

There’s still a jut to his jaw. Defenses and hackles raised - your words as useless as his fist against the door.

Your hands spread wide, “I even baked you a cake, which is apparently something I do when I like someone.”

He goes still at that, eyes dark. A lithe roll of his shoulders as he steps closer - voice dropping, “Say that again.”

“I baked you a cake?” You repeat, distracted by his proximity.

“Mm,” Logan hums, “Not the beginning. The last part.”

Your cheeks heat, as you realize what you said, “When… when I like someone.”

There’s the touch of his fingers against your chin. Tipping your face towards his, even as your eyes drift to somewhere over his shoulder. Too embarrassed to meet his gaze just yet.

“Is that right?” Logan husks. 

The word slips from you, “Maybe.”

“I like maybe.”

That emboldens you to look. He’s close now, a mimicry of the night before - just on the other side. 

The hand still hovers, in that narrow gap between you. Fingers flexing around the bundle of bills, “I still want you to take this.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” Your head shakes, “Maybe just for some new sheets, but I thought-“ 

There’s a different intent in the way he crowds you, now. A softer slope of his shoulders, the sweep of his thumb against your skin. 

“Thought what?”

The low husk makes you squirm. His eyes half-lidded when you glance at him. The heat of his anger morphing into a much different kind of fire. 

“Thought that if it was already ruined…” You trail off, as you smile. 

As you hope.

“….maybe you’d want to ruin it a little more with me, sometime?”

There’s the slightest pull of his lips, as he smirks. 

You make it inside, but no further than the couch. It’s familiar, the way his hand cradles the base of your neck. The muted sigh, when your lips part at the sweep of his tongue.

Laid down against the cushions, legs spread to fit him between them. Hips that dip down, the meat of his thigh nudging against your core, sending your heart racing. 

How he chases after you, when you forget to breathe. Leaning in you as your fingers twist in his hair, tugging him closer. 

Need pounds in your vein, matching the pulse in your throat when his lips press against it. Wandering hands, one that palms the curve of your breast. A throaty hum when he can feel the tight peak through the fabric, pinching it between thumb and forefinger.

The other skating up your bare thigh, raising goosebumps. Slipping beneath the hem of your dress, his leg shifting to make room. Fingertips stroking against your inner thigh - the soft crease as you whine into his mouth, feeling how his lips curve as he kisses you. 

You’re wet already. You know you are - since that spark of realization, then the moment when his mouth pressed against yours. Fueled by the heavy weight of him as he guided you beneath him, smelling like smoke and wood and the sharp bite of leather. 

Wound up by this teasing, and it’s enough that your hand is catching his wrist, pulling his palm flush with your core. 

The moan it pulls from you is ragged. Logan’s hand is warm where he cups you, curling fingers against the curve of your ass, heel pressing against your seam. 

Another rock of his hand, until there’s a soft “please” slipping from your lips. Fingers slip beneath then - a ragged curse muttered against your lips as they part you.

Slipping against where you’re wet and warm. The tips of two pressing against your opening, feeling how you give for him.

“Should let me make it up to you.” Logan’s voice is ragged, as he sinks to the knuckle. A slow pump as you clench down around them, a lift of your hips as you try to take more. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to protest. 

Remind him it was just a misunderstanding, but then your eyes are fluttering open, seeing how his dark gaze is fixed on you.

Your answer is quiet, “Okay. S’long as you don’t stop.”

There’s the flash of sharp teeth. You mourn the weight of him as he eases off of you, fingers slipping free. But it’s only to catch your thighs - smearing slick across your skin as he moves to the floor. Tugging you until legs spread wide for him, hips at the edge of the couch.

There’s a hitch of your breath, as you hold it. His lips pressing against your knee, as his hand bundle up the fabric. A slow reveal as he fists it around his fingers, bringing it up to rest against your abdomen.

His kisses follow the path his fingers took. Open-mouthed against your thigh, until his tongue dips out to taste the soft skin where your leg meets hip.

“Logan,” You huff - needy, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes lift from where they lingered - the darkened patch of fabric between your thighs. 

“Been teasing me since I left. Couldn’t stop thinking about this.” It comes out rough, his eyes flicking back down.

“But I thought-,” You start. It’s hard to think when he’s this close, the press of his thumb into the joint of your knee - keeping your legs spread, “Thought you were mad.”

Logan huffs. Lips ghosting against your skin, as he inhales, “At the thought of never having you again.”

It’s like being struck by an arrow, piercing clean through. The little gasp turning long, as his hand slips up your thigh. Catching at the waistband of your panties - tugging them down so he can get his mouth on you.

The tip of his tongue meets you before his lips do. A low groan as it flattens against your slit, tasting your arousal. His nose pressing against your mound as he teases at your clit. Slipping down to dip inside you, as your nails scrape against the cushions. 

Slicking you up with his tongue. The buzzing groan of his lips against your skin as he eats you - open-mouthed kisses against your core. Tight licks against your clit, before his lips close around and suck.

It leaves you a mess. Short panting breath, as he gives you what you need. His name melding in with your gasps, as that string inside you winds tighter and tighter.

The pressure eases and you whimper as he leans back, jaw working. Lips shiny where he’s smeared with you - watching how you clench for him as he lets spit pool on his tongue, before it’s dropping against your folds. 

It’s filthy, the way he rubs it into your skin. Coating his fingers before the two are notching again, before sinking deep into you.

A moan is pulled from you, with the stretch. Stealing your breath, even with how eager you are. Giving you more. That dull ache easing as his mouth returns to you. Hungry in the way he groans against your skin, as if he was getting off to your pleasure.

The time before doesn’t compare to now. The full focus of his fingers, buried deep and crooking. Pointed flicks of his tongue - the way his eyes are so fixed on your face.

Catching the pull of your brow and the way your teeth sink into your lip. Keeping the pounding pace steady when he sees how you gasp, your fingers fisting in his flannel. Relentless in the way they stroke against the spot that makes you see stars. 

It sends you higher and higher. A groan against your skin when you buck into his mouth. Another one, louder, when your hand slips to his hair and tugs. 

“Feels so fucking good, Logan,” You’re babbling now - desire slurring the syllables, “I’m so, I’m so close-”

Those dark eyes settle over you - his mouth busy but it’s not hard to imagine the way he’d encourage you. The husk of his voice, that tough timber as a low command melds with praise. The thought is enough to send you over - with the soft suck of his mouth, the way his fingers fill you. 

Your knees dig into his shoulders as you curl inward - that hand at your belly pressing you flat against the cushions as you come. Making you take what he gives you - the flick of his tongue going lazy as the tight pulse around his fingers ebbs. 

The tension leeches from you, turning to glitter in your veins. That tight knot of worry slowly unfurling - giving you something to grasp, hold onto, as you come back down. A sigh when his fingers slip from you. The hungry press of teeth against your inner thigh, a reminder that he’s there. Soothing it with the swipe of his tongue after. 

Easing back as you push yourself up - his shoulder pressing into the edge of the couch as he sits on the floor. Your limbs are liquid as you slip down to join him - Logan’s broad hands gripping at your waist, your thighs splitting as you throw a leg across his lap.

“You’re too good at that.” You hum, as you settle in his lap bare, spit-slick against his jeans. Against where he strains, a breath hissed out as you tug at his belt. Reaching to help you - loosening the button, tugging at the zipper.

A lift of his hips to push his jeans down, his cock full and hard where it rests against your belly. His hands reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it from you. Fingers slipping around to loosen your bra as your mouth meets his. 

He tastes like you, as he licks into your mouth - a sweet tang that blends with him. His shaft pressing against your pussy as he lifts his hips, grinding himself into you. You push yourself up onto your knees - his lips parting with a groan as your fingers circle him, holding him steady.

It breaks off - a sharp hiss, when you sink down. 

There’s no slow slide this time. Too eager, in the way you drop down. Taking half of him at once, with a breath that chokes you. His fingers pinching hard enough to bruise, as his brow knits. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” He grits, “Not going anywhere, alright?”

It soothes you, as your nails bite into his shoulders. Pink marks that ebb away by the time you start moving - a slow bounce until you’re sitting flush on his lap, cock speared inside you. 

It’s also different than last time. He’d been deep, then. Your faced pressed into the mattress as you had panted - but now -

Now, his mouth is at your shoulder. Lips pressed against the fading mark he had left. That tight grip of his hands loosening, as he guides you - letting your hips rock. A shallow drag of his cock inside you, feeling like he’s in your ribs. 

Another press of his mouth against your sternum. Hands slipping down to wrap around your thighs, encouraging you to lift a little more. Enough that he can get his mouth on you - his tongue laving across a nipple. Groaning as you press your chest against him, leaning into the suck of his lips, the nip of teeth.

His thrusts like this are shallow, punctuated by the occasional deep thrust that has you panting. Has your fingers loosening to slip between your thighs, pressing against your clit.

You can feel the scrape of his facial hair. The ease of his hands as he lets you drop, until he’s buried in you again. Catching at your wrist, tugging your hand back to his shoulder.

“Uh-uh.” Logan tongue clicks, eyes dark, “Just keep riding, honey.”

His fingers replace yours. Slick circles, a pressure that makes you clench down hard around him. 

A soft coo, as your breathing shortens - turning to whimpers. 

“Lemme make you feel good.”

And this is new, too - how close he is. Those hazel eyes focused so singularly on you, it’s almost too much.

“You do make me feel good,” You breathe, letting your lips press against his cheek, ‘You’re, oh-”

His hips stutter, where he flexes into you. Your own pace sloppy - grinding instead of bouncing, chasing the building pleasure in your core. The soft sounds you make growing louder. His legs flexing beneath you, feet going flat against the floor so he can drive himself up.

There’s that tell-tale clench. The way your vision starts to go blurry, words slipping into sounds. 

“Logan.” You, “I’m-,”

He can feel it - the way you tighten as he pounds into you. The glaze of your eyes, the throaty moan as you start to string stiff in his arm. 

“That’s it,” Logan rasps, face tipped up to yours, “You gonna come for me?”

Your moan pitches high. 

He grins. 

“Then let me hear how pretty you sound. Come on, sweetheart.”

With the circle of his fingers, you’re shattering.

A soft cry as you come again, gushing against the cock that only pounds harder. Drawing out the flutter of your cunt as he grips your thighs, rocking into you. A ragged moan as he feels how you flutter around him, head tipped back. An arm wrapping around you back as he tips forward, bringing you down to the floor.

You head cushioned on the pile of discard clothes. His knees brace against the rug as the angle changes, sending him deeper. Lifting your hips, eyes fixed on where he drives into you. The gleam of his cock where he’s soaked with your release, how he slips between your puffy folds.

His teeth grit. Fingers flexing against your skin. A rough moan when your hips move to meet his thrusts.

“You want me to come in you again?” There’s an edge to his voice. Eyes fixed on your face, searching.

You nod, but it’s not enough. 

His hips snap harder, breath ragged, “Ask me for it, Sugar.”

It makes your stomach clench. Something deep burning, liquid heat in your core. Your legs hitch around his waist, hooking around his back.

“Want you to come in me,” You beg, “Logan, please-”

His eyes flutter shut. The muscles in his neck flex, as he arcs over you - a hand braced on the floor, pricks of silver glinting between his knuckles.

A rough growl that turns into something soft as his hips snap forward - hilting himself as he comes. Hips pumping with each pulse of his cock, as he spills deep inside you. As you milk him dry, until the heavy throb of his cock fades. 

He’s beautiful. It leaves you dizzy.

You really might just have to bake him another.

The golden sunset seeps through the windows, spilling across the floor.

“You wanna stay?” 

It comes out drowsy. Your limbs are liquid, even more so than last time, “I know a great takeout place.”

You’ll need a little fuel, if tonight goes as it did before. 

He hums - the brush of bare fingers down your spine. It’s cramped on the couch, entwined limbs. Sweat-dewed in the summer evening. 

“You still wanna get to know me?”

Your nose brushes his throat. Cheek pressed up against the curl of his shoulder - where he can just feel you nod, “I would. If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Logan rasps, quietly.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

I can't even express how just - grateful and thrilled and happy I am that so many of you liked sugar, sugar! thank you for the encouragement for this part 2, and I hope you liked it! 💖 I have one more part planned (though open for more!) that I've been working on, along with more for the wade x f!reader x logan fic as well!

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

[salsakiyoomi]

Hmm, how would drummer Sukuna react to finding out reader had sex with someone else?

a/n : this idea has been nagging me for a while and this is my excuse to write it now

sukuna's heart almost stops.

it almost stops as he watches you walk out one of the most famous fuckboy's dorm, in your clothes yes, but looking disheveled, with hair that's definitely been tugged on and hickeys covering your neck, and a manly cologne that was most definitely neither his or yours. 

what was the meaning of this? why did he have to be here at this exact moment to see you like that?

your eyes catch his and you're wondering whether you should talk to him or not.

probably not.

so you clear your throat and you turn the other way, as if he wasn't standing right in front of you.

he’s shocked, because how could you?

“y/n.” he calls out, his voice stern but you don't acknowledge him, he doesn't know what's up with you this time, whether you're mad at him or the other dude has gotten to you.

all he knows is that he doesn't like you ignoring him and he's not sure why.

he shouldn’t care.

sukuna trudge over to you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him, “i called for you.” he tells you, a scowl on his face — why were you avoiding him like that? he hasn't fucked up that bad yet — i mean, sure, the both of you haven't been hanging out much and it was a month since you last had sex but still.

“what do you want?” you ask, you still won't meet his eyes, avoiding them like they're the plague — but most of all, you seem nonchalant, too nonchalant.

“what's the meaning of this?” he asks and he can't tear away his eyes from the hickeys adorning your neck and probably other places as well — only he can leave those marks on you, nobody else.

it doesn't sit well with him that somebody else, especially a fucking fuckboy who practically lives in the frat house, having his hands all over you in that way, his lips on yours, on your skin, his body against your and —

sukuna doesn't want to think about it.

you scoff, rolling your eyes, and you tear your arm away from his grip, crossing your arms, “the meaning of what, ryomen?”

“the meaning of this.” he almost seethes, gesturing to the marks on you, “what's this about?” 

“what, like you care?” you say, and this time, you meet his gaze, and he’s not sure if he likes the defiant look in your eyes.

does he care? of course he does. otherwise he wouldn't have been fucking you for this long.

“of course i do.” he huffs, but it comes out quiet and almost meek.

of course he cares about you — he doesn't like you sleeping around with other people, you were supposed to be his.

“well, you shouldn't,” you tell him, the frown on your face prominent, “we're not exclusive after all, are we?”

fuck. 

he knew that that would come back to bite him in the ass, and now was the time.

it's true, in the past year the two of you have been sleeping around, sukuna has made it painfully clear that this was nothing more than just sex and having fun for the sake of it — you've nagged him about it more than once, you didn't like him sleeping with other girls either but it's not like he ever stopped.

sukuna didn't do love, never has, and never will.

but now, your words really hurt him.

at his stretched silence you sigh, turning away from him, “later, ryomen.” you call out as you walk away from him.

and he's left all alone in the hallway with a heavy heart.

jealousy wasn't a thing he's ever felt before, and it didn't sit well with sukuna.

[socksracoon10]

p2 where the argument turns into a makeout sesh yes or yes?

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴? Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: I AM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART 2 BECAUSE THAT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT SINCE I POSTED THE FIC YESTERDAY... anon thank you I was over here giggling and kicking my feet reading your ask... uh halfway through writing this I realized I got carried away it's MUCH longer than I intended LMFAO Read The First Part: Hit and Run

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"Hey man, next time you race try not to kill the other drivers," (Y/N) (L/N) sunk down into the P3 chair next to Sainz, who had just won the race. He glanced over at her with a scowl, clearly wanting to say some nasty things if it wasn't for the million cameras in the cooldown room. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms as she watched the race's highlights on the screen besides her. Carlos and her both had a spectacular race, considering they had started from the bottom of the grid more or less. She knew she had the skills to get to the podium, but she was surprised at the fact that Carlos had managed to somehow win the race from nowhere. It didn't seem like his normal self and she wondered what could've motivated him to actually drive good for once.

"Next time you race, try not to be cocky and drag other drivers down," Carlos grumbled, his voice was muffled due to the rag that was currently soaking up all of the sweat on his face. She glared at him, holding an accusatory finger to the air before Max had settled down in the P2 chair. He shook Carlos's hand, before waving at (L/N). The room was silent, spare Max rambling on about what he saw during the race. As Max continued to talk, (L/N)'s eyes flickered occasionally onto Carlos, wondering what was going through his mind. She was definitely in the wrong, but her ego wouldn't handle that and she needed to tear him a new one once they were done with all the celebrations. She always hated this circuit anyway.

"She's not supposed to be here, mate," Charles giggled, jerking his thumb towards the woman that was angrily storming into Ferrari's garage. Carlos looked up from where he sat with a groan escaping his lips.

"She isn't," Carlos stood up, taking the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, "I suppose you've come to apologize for your behavior this weekend? Or last weekend? Or the many weekends before that?" "Apologize?" (L/N) snorted, rolling her eyes, "I've come to ask about what you said at the press pen!"

Charles, sensing the tension between the two, gently ushered the two into Carlos's driver's room before shutting the door. The last thing Ferrari needed after this lovely weekend was to deal with the drivers having to go through PR training once again, especially with the amount of times Carlos had been talking shit about (Y/N) (L/N). Carlos had stood by the door, arms crossed as he gestured with his hands for her to begin whatever stupid argument she had managed to pull out of her ass this time.

"You remember what you said?" She growled, and when she saw him shake his head, her nostrils flared, "You literally told the press, 'sometimes, I like to put people in the places they belong and that's precisely what I did with (L/N)', are you kidding me?"

"You should be happy," Carlos scoffed, "I could've said way worse. Besides, I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. You said after qualifying yesterday that even with a million practices, I'd still fumble."

"Yeah, because you do! You're inconsistent as hell and that's why-"

"And yet who won the race today starting behind you." Carlos interrupted her. She closed her mouth, chest heaving. Carlos could see the gears turn in her head, she was trying so hard to come up with something. He had a smug smile on his face and somehow this was more victorious than winning the Grand Prix.

"It doesn't matter if you win today or not, you won't be driving for Ferrari soon, anyway," She spat. She smirked at the way his face fell, her arms crossed with her head tilted upwards. That cocky look on her face that always drove him wild.

"You're such an asshole," Carlos seethed, and before she could respond with a snarky remark, his lips crashed onto her. His hands came to hold onto the sides of her face, pulling her as close to him as he could. He pulled away for a brief second to take a quick breath and noticed the way her eyes widened, "Did you just kiss me? Listen here buddy, I'll have you know that-" Her words died down when she noticed Carlos's eyes flicker to her lips. God, her absolute hatred for him made her forget how charming he truly was. She wouldn't admit to it, though. Not now nor ever. Right now, all they needed was to blow off this steam. She grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down to another searing kiss, eyes closed as their teeth crashed into one another. She tugged his hair and he squeezed her waist, both of them realizing that feelings may not exist at the moment, it was all about just shutting each other up.

"I hate you," She murmured before going in for another kiss.

"I hate you more," His lips attached to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that were sure to bruise her.

"Well, I hate you the most, stop trying to be better than me." She snapped in a strained voice and he groaned out loud, pulling back to stare at her,

"How much money do I have to pay for you to shut up?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles didn't win the next race, unfortunately. He was a bit happy that he didn't DNF, but the fact that the winner of the race was none other than his sworn enemy did little to comfort him. He glanced over to Max who was at P2, and looked around to the room to make sure that rat wasn't lurking nearby.

"W-What was the gap between you and her?" Charles asked. He knew asking would literally do him 0 help, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.

"I want to say around a good 20 seconds or so? Maybe a bit more, I wasn't too sure," Max responded, watching Charles sink deeper in his seat with a look of despair. He gulped, staring aimlessly onto the wall in front of him. How was she that fast? What had she done with the car overnight?

"I'm sorry for (Y/N) for the next few races," He heard her, loud and clear, as she entered the cooldown room, mocking him for what he said last weekend. Charles instantly glared at her, not even bothering to hide his true intentions. No amount of PR training could hide his disgust for her. She settled into her seat, relishing in the feeling of being the race winner.

"You do anything with your car?" Charles grunted, and she shook her head,

"No, no. I just have more skill," She flashed him a smile, before getting up once again to grab a bottle of water. Max, for once in his life, decided to be quiet in the room and see the argument follow through. He'd heard Charles tell him multiple times about how (L/N) got on his nerves, but seeing it in person would be amazing.

"I doubt that. You used to place below me during the races," Charles took a sip of his water.

"What are you insinuating then?" She snarled, and Max glanced over to the camera crew, signaling for them to leave. While this would do numbers for the ratings and news headlines, they were promised some share of money if they got their asses out.

"Um guys, I don't think we should be fighting, we have to cooldown anyway..." Max began, but his words fell onto deaf ears as Charles stood up from his seat to stalk over to where she stood.

"Maybe you'd be more likeable if you were honest with yourself, sometimes cheaters-" Charles began, standing his ground when she yelled back,

"So you think I cheated in this race? Seriously? That's your argument?"

"Well, we do know that last weekend there was water in your tires," Charles snapped,

"That wasn't my fault? Stop being such a sore loser, Leclerc. Maybe this is why you haven't won a championship yet."

Max's jaw dropped as he watched the words fly out of her mouth. Charles, in the meantime, tossed his water bottle to the ground and stepped closer to her with his finger in her face,

"At least I raced clean without losing grip when I tried to overtake someone. You just got lucky today, that's it."

"Luck, really? Yeah, tell me about your luck when you're fighting more with your teammate than with the other drivers on the grid during the race." She hissed.

Was it the air? Was it the fact that the adrenaline was still high after the race, or was it the fact that despite not being able to stand each other they were only centimeters apart. It didn't take long before Charles's hand dug into her scalp, pulling her head back ever so slightly as he kissed her. Seeing this as another challenge, (L/N) brought Charles down to the ground, both of them fighting to be on top while still furiously kissing each other. His hands gripped her waist and she had her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her as they rolled off of each other on the ground, tongues practically in each other's mouths with the intention of wanting to ruin each other. She scratched him, he yanked her hair, she punched his chest and he twisted her arm and yet their lips never stopped wanting to consume the other. It wasn't until (L/N) pulled away to breathe again did they both realize that Max was still there with a very shocked expression.

"I'm... I'm just going to leave and make sure uh no one else enters this room but uh guys you might want to... put yourself together before we get on the podium," Max had one hand covering his eyes as he walked out of the room.

"Do you think he's gonna tell people we just made out?" She asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I doubt it," Charles responded with a roll of his eyes, "I mean, who would go and loudly state that Charles Leclerc was kissing you of all people? I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

He winced when her hand smacked the back of his head.

𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

Max never forgot. He never forgot anything. He had made a promise to himself that he would wipe that smirk off her face and he intended to keep it. Even with all the setbacks that he was facing this particular weekend. Back to back penalties, a grip drop and on top of all this, a very haughty (Y/N) (L/N) purposely bumping into him on the paddock with a bright smile,

"Have fun! I've always wondered how the view from the back would look like for you," She chirped, speeding past him on a scooter. Max's jaw went taut, and he did little to hide his anger for the rest of the day. He was going to make sure that the race tomorrow would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had chosen the wrong person to mess with and he was determined to prove it to her.

Max was on a different level during the race, he was unbelievably fast and it surprised everyone but mainly (Y/N) (L/N).

Her radio went off, and someone buzzed through, "Max is currently at P6, he's coming up behind you."

"What the hell?" Her voice was a bit quiet, still in disbelief at the fact that Max was now right behind her, "How does he do this?"

And before she can react further, she sees him overtake her as he flashed his middle finger at her before speeding off. That got her going, and despite the radio telling her to calm down and control her motions, she began to chase after Max. Her ego was bruised but surely she could redeem herself. Unfortunately, she lost grip and her car went spiraling out of control towards the barriers.

"A safety car will be deployed soon, Max," GP informed the driver.

"Who crashed?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

Max couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips, and to quote Alonso he merely stated, "Karma..." before turning his radio off for the rest of the race.

By the time all the celebrations were done, Max walked past (L/N)'s garage and he noticed the way she was pouting, legs crossed as she was busy texting somebody. Her fingers flew across the screen, and it almost looked like she was about to cry. Max did feel a bit bad for her, he knew she had worked to get to where she was - she was after all the only female driver on the grid so she was talented. He walked over to her in the best hopes that he could try to make her feel better, I mean he wasn't a monster.

"Oh, look who's here, the ugly ass sloth who can't mind his own business," She sneered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. Yeah, that was it. Max didn't want to comfort her anymore, he was going to stoop down to her level.

"You know, maybe if you learned to shut your mouth and admit your mistakes, you could've actually done well in the race today." He scoffed, towering over her. She stood up, going back to texting her friend with a scowl on her face.

"Texting your mechanics to help salvage what's left of the car?" Max snorted.

"No, I'm texting my friend about how some douchebag keeps talking to me like I even asked for him. Like why the hell are you even here? Go back to your own garage, asshole." She snapped, pocketing her phone. Max threw his backpack onto the ground besides her and took a step forward,

"You know I was going to be nice to you-"

"You said Karma over the radio, I heard that shit clearly," She hissed, stepping closer as well.

"I said it in the moment, but right now I was going to be nice. I was going to comfort you. You are talented, you're not a shit driver like I said you were, but God... your ego. Your stubbornness. Your... your absolute pathetic move to shift the blame onto someone else for your wrong doings. Get over yourself, you don't know shit about your own car and yet you always blame me for something during the race!"

"My car is completely fine before you wrecked it!"

"Oh, so that DNF last weekend was my fault? You rammed into me! Let's not forget that!" Max yelled, glancing over to the new shiny car that would be in use next weekend.

"Oi, eyes on me," She snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his jaw to turn it to her, "Don't stare at my winning car."

Max yanked her hand from his jaw, glaring at her. Oh, he hated her. He hated her so much. Even when he wanted to be nice to her, she always found a way to ruin it. How was it possible for a woman as beautiful and genuinely talented as her to somehow always end up as the most annoying, stuck-up little piece of shit that he had ever seen? Within seconds, he had her against her "amazing" car with his lips onto her. She gasped in surprise, eyes darting to the corner of the garage to make sure all the mechanics had left, but considering the way Max was making her melt in his kiss, her worries soon faded away. Max had one hand pressing her down against the car, her back hit the edge of the halo and she groaned in pain, causing her to arch into him as he deepened the kiss. Her hands came to grip onto his shoulders as she bit down on his bottom lip, and she could feel him smiling against her.

"I wish you were like this every weekend," He whispered, delving into another kiss. She wrapped her hand in his hair, tugging him gently away from her,

"I hope you realize this is a one time occurrence. I have standards," She smirked.

"They must be pretty low then like your racing skills," Max snapped, kissing her once more as he felt her smirk fade against his lips. He really did mean it when he said he was going to wipe it off her face, he just never imagined it to be in this way.

"Shut up," She mumbled, "Just shut up."

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

synopsis: how genshin men would degrade you <3

tags: degrading (obviously) facesitting, mentions of gagging, oral, penetration, explicit

wrd cnt: 800+

a/n: cooking up an hsr version soon

Ayato is always complete and proper in his semantics, he's fair and he loves to praise you.

But tonight...you stretched his patience too thin and his only choice was to stretch your little cunt til you couldn't talk back anymore. "Fuck, you're tight, honey.. this is what you want, isn't it?"

This day was big for Ayato, but you just had to keep pestering him with question after question. Usually, he'd entertain your playfulness but tonight was stressful. So he took it out on you instead. Call it karma?

"Clenching from my vulgarity..what a whore you are." He whispered into your ear, bending you across his desk, while all the guests sat outside having tea while you got fucked hard from behind by Ayato, who put a hand over your mouth, warning you greatly to stay quiet and stop those slutty moans of yours.

"Am I wrong or, did you not hear me? Ayato said lowly, slowly growing more and more annoyed and irritated at your misbehavior.

"Do you need me to gag that mouth of yours, y/n?” Sounding more like a promised threat than a question.

The only way you can get yourself out of this is giving Mr. Kamisato all he asks for and more, and be an obedient girl.

Nothing could really piss off Alhaitham as much as you, but not in the way that's most obvious.

He hated how much you doubted yourself, looked down on yourself, and harbored deep annoyance of the fact you didn't love the things about you he can't get enough of.

Sure, he could give you a little cute pep-talk but, fucking it into you is the approach that'll really make it stick. Some reverse psychology maybe?

After hearing you badmouth yourself for what felt like hours, he's stripping you of all your clothes and sitting you onto the couch armrest, forcing you to look him in the eyes; daring you to say those things again.

"Fucking pathetic is what you are. You're lucky I'm not fucking that stupid shit out of your mouth". He said, grabbing your hips as he sat down, positioning your cunt over him.

Not sure if you should just hover, his large hand lands on your ass, surely leaving a handprint.

"Sit down y/n." Alhaitham groaned, pulling your hips down onto his face and swallowing your clit with his tongue; his eyes never leaving you and your perfect tits.

Wriothesley loved showering you with compliments and nothing but the sweetest of words, but sometimes he just can't hold back all the filthy things he knows you want from him.

Oftentimes he's just worried you're gonna start crying, but fuck is it hot when you do.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin your pretty little mouth." He breathes out, watching you kiss up his cock. On your knees and eyes up is his favorite way to gaze at you, and it's just so easy for him to fuck your face.

"Wrio...you said-"

"Sluts don't get to talk." He cuts you off, his brows raised in amusement as he lights up a cigarette and throws the lighter somewhere, taking his cock in one hand to push past your lips as the other keeps the cig inbetween his fingers.

"Open that dirty fucking mouth of yours... can't take it all of a sudden?" He says, shoving it deep into your throat while his hand grips the back of your head, letting you take it at your own pace before he throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as he hears all the sloppy noises, waiting for your glossy eyes to make an appearance.

Now, Childe really tries to be sweet and praiseful, but he loves how disgusting and filthy you can be, and it's even better when he gets to tells you how much he loves it.

Wearing a new outfit wasn't something you expected to lead to something like this.

Definitely not being put in a tight mating press by your lover, pressed into the couch cushions while he left marks all over your neck and collar, biting and sucking places anyone could see to leave no guessing who's you belong to.

"Look at your thighs...they're just spilling out. You look like a filthy slut, do you want me to fuck you like one? Is that it?" He asked, pulling and smacking the material of your stocking that you didn't think too much of, but the minute he saw you walk out in them his cock wanted to spring out and get in between your thighs. But your pussy was an even better spot.

Deep and deeper be thrusted, the springs in the furniture squeaking while your voice almost did the same, cursing and moaning his name while he kept you close. Small protests for him to be quick fell from your lips, urging him so the two of you could get to where you were headed prior to this..."short" break.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or a fucking headache?" He asked, only fucking your harder and slower, a hand finding to squeeze the sides of your neck.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[vivian-pascal]

But Daddy I Love Him

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You've been seeing Joel for a while now, when your dad first introduced you to him, you knew you both could never get enough. But when your dad finds out, things take a turn.

warnings: piv (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, fluff, description of what reader wears, angst

authors note: hey folks! when i first heard this song on Taylor's new album I just KNEW I had to write about it! and this is the idea I had in mind, I hope you all enjoy!

(I definitely recommend listening to the song while reading!)

now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

screaming "but daddy I love him!"

"I'm having his baby"

no I'm not but you should see your faces.

The warm, tingly feeling of his rough calloused hands sliding along the inside of your thigh making you whimper as his hand slowly makes it way between your legs.

The rough pull of his hair as he collides his drooling mouth with your clit. Licking and sucking like a feral animal devouring its meal.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts his tongue into your seeping cunt. Pushing deeper and deeper until your back arches off the bed.

"Yeah, just like that baby." The deep rumble of his voice vibrates along your pussy and only makes the sensation better. Licking and sucking your cunt until you simply can't hold it any longer and let go. The rush of your orgasm makes him physically eat up your whole pussy. Making sure there are no drops wasted.

Your back finally hitting the bed, he rises from between your legs and he already looks fucked. The dampness from your arousal has drenched his beard and face. His messy hair from all the pulling and tugging you've done only seems to have gotten worse.

He crawls up your body with a big grin and instantly meets your face with his lips. You moan into his mouth as he begins to undo his jeans. You giggle as the zipper gets stuck and decide to help him out.

You pull sharply on the zipper and it instantly goes down. He smiles at you as he removes his pants and his boxers. Your eyes widen at the size of him. You've imagined this moment for years and you've know that he'd be big, but you never knew that he'd be this big.

He crawls back up your body as your back hits the bed once more.

When you first met Joel, you were only a teenager with a wide range of imagination. He was handsome, had the sexiest voice you've ever heard, he was kind, etc. But one thing about him just didn't seem right.

Sometimes you would casually flirt with him because it was funny and only a joke. Well, not for you. He would laugh it off and tell you to stop and then you would. The amount of control he had over you was insane. More than your dad. You would physically do anything for Joel. Sometimes you noticed that some of your flirting did actually bother him.

Once, you two were in a store and the cashier had thought that Joel was your father. He laughed it off and told the lady that you weren't and you both left the store. But you couldn't leave it at that of course, so when you walked out, Joel asked you to wait in the car while he threw something out and you simply replied with "Yes, daddy."

That seemed to do a number for him. He stopped in his tracks as he watched you walk toward his truck. The car ride home was silent. You tried to make small talk with him but he'd only grunt in return.

Ever since that day, he's been off. So earlier today, you decided that should change. And now here you are, ass naked with Joel Miller.

His nose brushes against yours as he slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the intrusion. "You're so gorgeous darlin'." You moan as he slowly begins to move.

You run your nails alone his back as he kissed you along your jawline. His movements hit each spot inside you just right. Stretching you out perfectly.

His grunts only spur you on as he begins to speed up his thrusts. You moan as his tongue collides with yours. His hands moving down your fragile frame as he begins to circle your clit.

Running your hands along his arms, back, neck. You can feel every strong muscle working its hardest. You pull and tug his hair until he's grunting and panting in your mouth.

His fingers push down on your clit harder and you arch your back and moan aloud when your orgasm washes over you. His thrusts begin to go faster as his hips come to a stutter. You grin when you feel his hot seed seeping into you.

He lays his head on your shoulder as you look down at his exhausted state and kiss his forehead. He smiles softly and kisses your lips. You wrap your small arms along his head as he wraps his strong arms around your small body.

You both cuddle up and stay like that for a while. Yearning for each others love as the time passes by slowly.

Your rudely awaken to a slam of your bedroom door. You quickly sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. When you see who it is, your eyes begin to water as your heart stops. It's your dad.

Joel sits up and his eyes squint at the bright light. When he sees your father standing there, he freezes.

"What the fuck?" Your dad roars as he walks in. Joel begins to pick up his boxers as he quickly puts them on.

"Joel?" He looks up at your dad as he tries to grab his jeans. "You fucked my daughter?" He quickly puts on his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Joel looks at you. His eyes softening when he sees that your crying.

"Fucking answer me!" He looks back at your dad and quickly nods. Your dad throws his hands in the air and grabs onto Joel's arm. Yanking him out of your room.

You quickly get out of bed and grab your dress, putting it on but not buttoning it up. "Dad! Where the fuck are you taking him?" You scream as you run after them. He throws Joel outside and pushes him.

"Joel, care to explain what the fuck you were doing?" Joel only puts his hands in front of him. "You can't even talk to your best bud huh? U wonder why that is, oh maybe because you were messing with my very young daughter." Joel shakes his head as he backs up.

"Now, we both had consent for this. I didn't force her into doin somethin she didn't wanna do." Your dad begins to laugh.

"As if that makes this any better Joel." Tears flood your face.

"Dad stop! He didn't do anything wrong. Please."

Your dad looks furious. He shakes his head and looks back at Joel. He looks at you with sad eyes and only nods to you as a reassurance that it's going to be okay.

"Go." You turn to face your dad as he looks at Joel." "What? Dad no. He can't just leave"

"Well that's what I'm telling him to do isn't it." You look at Joel as he slowly backs away to his truck. "Dad?" You begin to panic. You hear the truck door open and close.

He begins to back away and looks at your dad. His truck backs off the driveway and that's when you start to sprint after him. Holding your dress up as you begin running. Your bare feet hitting the rough pavement. Tears flying from your eyes. Screaming and crying as you see your Joel leaving you. Forever.

Your pace begins to slow as you realize that he's not coming back. Just disappearing into nothing. You stare at his truck as you hear your dads pants coming up behind you. He puts his hand on your back but your too distraught to take it off.

"But Daddy, I loved him."

tags!!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[the-modern-typewriter]

Could you please do a villianxhero prompt?

They were on the same side. Sort of. Temporarily. Admittedly, it had been a temporary that had stretched on far longer than either of them had expected.

It had been nearly a year.

"I wouldn't," the hero said, as one of the villain's circle stood up to go find his absent leader in the study upstairs.

The villain's left-hand simply sneered at the hero before continuing on their way.

The hero sighed. They could feel a headache forming, but they moved to rise either way, with the celestial tug of everything they were.

"I wouldn't."

The hero glanced over at the villain's right-hand.

The right-hand smiled at them. "It serves him right. And it wouldn't do him bad to remember how much of a buffer you are when you're around."

"He'll get hurt."

"Then he should have listened to you, shouldn't he?"

Well, the hero didn't exactly have a good argument for that. While they'd learned to get on well with the villain's right hand, they still clashed frequently with the obnoxious and entirely too sycophantic left.

"Seriously," the right-hand said, softer. "It's not like you're planning to stop absorbing the worst of them any time soon, is it? Pick your battles."

"They're not that bad with me."

"You know how to handle them - better than anyone."

"Don't let them hear you say that."

The right-hand snorted.

They both looked up, towards the ceiling, towards the villain seething with setbacks out of view.

Something crashed.

"I'm not going to say 'I told you so,'" the hero said. "That feels mean."

"Don't worry." The right-hand sounded positively cheery. "I will."

The left-hand slunk back downstairs before they could respond, pale and shaken. It was, admittedly, a little satisfying. The villain was definitely a bad influence.

But, also, really. The villain telegraphed their moods fairly obviously and they'd got better at retreating when they felt inclined to be vicious. It wasn't a spoken boundary but it was a boundary to anyone paying attention.

It was possible that the hero paid too much attention. They just couldn't quite seem to stop.

"They told me to send you up," the left-hand muttered, with great resentment.

"Bold of them to assume you can send me anywhere."

"Please," the left-hand spat.

The hero grinned at them, before standing.

The right-hand's eyes gleamed, like they knew something that no one else had cottoned onto yet.

The hero shot them a two fingered salute, before they made their way upstairs. They rapped their knuckles against the door before entering.

"I've been summoned," the hero said, leaning against the door. "And you look like hell."

The villain scowled, dragged their hands through their hair.

The hero winked back at them.

The villain's glare intensified, but the tension slipped from their shoulders. "My head is killing me," the villain said. "I'm going to slaughter the next person who interrupts me."

The hero hummed, moving over to the sofa in the corner of the room. They flopped down, all casual like. The villain didn't even make a show of being casual or pretending to work for a minute more before they beelined over, all but shoving their face into the hero's neck.

The hero raised their eyebrows, surprised, then softened. The cupped the back of the villain's head, stroking through the dark locks. The villain melted against them. The hero felt something inside them ease too; a jungle cat finally settled and purring.

"It's disgusting that you're one of the few tolerable people left in the world," the villain said.

"Woe betide the minions. They try so hard."

"Don't take their side. You're mine."

The hero huffed, but didn't correct it, far too busy stifling a smile. Mine. It shouldn't have got to them like it did; there was a time when the word would have made them snarl with fury. They tucked their chin atop the villain's head. The connection between the two of them buzzed pleasantly.

They didn't ask if the villain wanted to talk about it. Inevitably, though, they did.

When the two of them wandered downstairs three hours later, the villain was themselves again.

"So," the right-hand asked, when the two of them were alone. "When's the wedding?"

[sharksnshakes]

Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.

[rogueddie]

Change / Gloom

It's not hard to figure out that Eddie is gay- or bisexual? Steve isn't sure. All he knows, undoubtedly, is that Eddie Munson likes men.

The rumors from high school definitely do a lot of the heavy lifting in regards to Steves revelation. But he knows what it looks like when people are attracted to him. He knows exactly what it looks like when people try to hide that they're attracted to him.

His first test was simple; stretch. The bottom of his polo always rides up and, as expected, Eddies eyes lingered on the slither of skin on display.

A simple test. An easy one.

The second test is not so easy- it requires Robins help and she's not the most subtle. Luckily, she's as keen as he is on getting him a boyfriend (specifically, an Eddie-shaped boyfriend), so she puts in as much effort as she can at being convincing.

Eddie admitted to her that, yeah, Steve is attractive. That he also finds Steve attractive. And not in a straight way!

("What the hell does that even mean?" Robin had asked, when Steve insisted that she needs to clarify that. "If he's attracted to you, it can't be straight!"

"It totally can," Steve tutted. "Tommy was attracted to loads of guys in a straight way."

"I'm going to ignore that because we don't have time to unpack any of that-")

He hadn't expected Robin to be so convincing, or for Eddie to be so open yet. It ruins his very thought out plan in the best way- he only needs to confirm if it's more than just physical attraction now, and that's the easy part.

"You're late," Steve greets. He leans his hip against the doorway, crossing his arms.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "So sorry, princess. You gonna let me in?"

"Say please."

"Please." He shifts, trying to look annoyed, putting his hands on his hips. The hall light illuminates his face too well for Steve to miss the slight blush.

Steve steps back, beckoning him as dramatically as he can manage without feeling like an idiot.

"Eddie!" Dustin calls, waving him over to the couch.

Robin already helped Steve make it so there's only two spots left open... Eddie, like they'd hoped, choses the corner so he can lean over to talk to the kids.

Once he's checked the door is definitely locked, peeking into the kitchen to make sure the back door is also shut, he plops down on the sofa. He shifts, stretching his legs out so his thigh is pressed up against Eddies.

It's not until the movie starts that Eddie leans over and whispers; "what are you doing?"

Steve quietly hums, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie gently kicks his ankle. "That. And at the door."

"I can't be friendly?" Steve whispers, with a teasing little smirk- it always used to have girls stuttering.

"Not like this," Eddie hisses. "Back off."

"What? I was just-"

"I know. I'm telling you to stop."

Steve slowly pulls back so they aren't touching as much- where they're sat doesn't leave much space.

He feels unmoored. He's never felt so wrong about his chances- even at Scoops Ahoy, despite his attempts, he knew he was probably going to get rejected. He's not sure he has ever been so off.

"I'm getting some popcorn," Eddie says quietly, towards the mid-point of the movie.

"I'll help," Steve quickly offers, jumping to his feet before Eddie can turn his offer down.

"Hey," Robin pipes up, grabbing his arm and giving him a light squeeze- reassurance, comfort. "Make me that ice cream shake I like."

"Understood," Steve nods, giving her a lazy salute.

It takes a good few minutes to make, giving the two of them more time alone in the kitchen.

She's giving him the green light.

"Sorry about that," Steve says quietly, once they're in the kitchen. "Didn't mean to come on too strong. Or, like, if it's too public. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. He keeps his back turned to him, waiting in front of the microwave, shoulders hunched to his ears.

Steve isn't sure whether he should say anything else. He looks uncomfortable. Steve isn't sure if speaking up would make it worse or-

"Who told you?" He eventually asks. He finally turns around, expressions dangerously blank. "Was it Gareth?"

"What?"

"He probably meant well," he ponders. His smile doesn't reach his eyes- it makes something uncomfortable squirm in Steves stomach. "He never did have the displeasure of meeting King Steve."

"Eddie-"

"It's ok though, right? You didn't mean to make me uncomfortable."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? Are you mad that I, like... know? Is that it?"

"Is that it?" Eddie repeats, mockingly. "No, Harrington. I don't care that you know- most people guessed it, what's one more? No, I care that you're making fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

He turns back to the microwave- it dings, but Eddie stays there, pretending to be busy.

Waiting for Steve to leave.

"I'm not making fun of you," Steve tries again, hating how wobbly his voice sounds. "I was- I mean, I thought maybe, you, um... but if not, that- that's ok, I can, like... fuck."

Eddie slowly turns, frowning, looking slightly more concerned- but the suspicion still lingers. "Spit it out."

"I thought you might like me but I don't know if it's just physical so I thought I'd try and flirt as a way of testing the waters before actually trying to ask you out," Steve rushes out in one breath.

"You were... actually flirting?" Eddie blinks at him, slowly. "Seriously? Not a joke? But... what? I thought you were straight?"

"So did I," Steve shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "Never really, um... thought about romancing a guy before."

"Before..?"

"Before you."

"Holy shit." Eddie goes to pinch himself- stopping at the last second with a shake of his head. "If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up."

"This is your idea of a good dream?"

"You know damn well it is, you little brat." Eddie laughs, shaking his head again, in disbelief. "I've fucked this up a bit, huh? Can we start again?"

"Oh. yeah, sure, of course, uh-"

"Wait, no, I don't have the patience for that," he quickly darts around the kitchen table, grabbing Steves waist and pulling him close. "This alright? Not gonna say psych?"

"If you don't kiss me right now, I just might."

"Say please."

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter three: friends?

summary: the start of fake dating is going well but [name] thinks they should go further.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

note: definitely filler chapter vibes but this is important to the plot i promise babes 🤞😫

masterlist | playlist

If looks could kill, [Name] would surely be dead. Since her lecture started 2 hours ago, she could feel someone staring at her. She did her best to figure out who it could have been but the lecture hall stretched too far to the point that people on the other side were essentially too small for her to see if they were even looking across the way.

She should have gotten used to this by now but she still wasn't. It had been days since her and Benji started "dating" and going out in front of the public. They had developed a routine; he would pick her up after work and her night lectures since he didn't have class around those times and take her to wherever she needed to be for that day and then walked off.

It seemed to have been fooling everyone. From the amount of people that would come up to her and pester her about what they were and how they even got together ("Do you think they'd buy into the idea you asked me out at the store?"/"Definitely."), they had managed to get everyone to think they were an item. Regardless, the treatment of being near invisible to being known by name had made her a little unnerved.

She did her best to seem unbothered by the newfound attention, the boring drolls from her Research Methods professor an open distraction. She focused on the class, making sure to note what confused her and that she had to review after she gets home today.

When the class had finally finished, [Name] had walked texted Benji quickly that she would take longer to go out before walking down to talk briefly about an assignment with the professor. It was a simple question but per usual, it had almost turned into a mini lecture where he had to explain his answer from the beginning. She could have fallen sleep there, had she not heard someone call Benji's name.

She glanced back, spotting Benji waiting from inside the classroom. He stood by the door with a crowd of people, talking animatedly. He must have made a joke when some people had laughed so loud, it echoed through the chamber. An easy going smile was on his face, though [Name] can tell it was more practiced than anything.

He looked down to where [Name] stood with the professor. An amused look crossed his face as he spotted the professor before pointing at the seat closest to him and waving to the crowd as they left before going on his phone. [Name] continued to nod along with the professor before finally feeling relief when he ended the conversation.

She had practically ran up the stairs, meeting Benji's gaze and smacking his shoulder lightly as they walked out. "Don't laugh."

"Why? Its funny watching someone practically nap standing up." Benji says, grabbing her bag off her shoulder. He looked ridiculous; the pinkand cream backpack contrasting greatly against his dark attire. [Name] had told him multiple times he didn't have to grab it from her, but Benji insisted.

"I'd do it for my real girlfriend so I'll do it for you." He argued again and again.

"Professor Dondarrion is such a bore." [Name] grumbles as they make their way outside. "All I asked was how to run a function on the system and he went all the went on and on about something else!"

"Yeah, that's why you get rid of Research Methods during your first year," Benji advises, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. She could feel the cold metal of his bracelet pressing against her skin as they walked. "Professor Martell is only available to first and final years here but makes the class interesting. Not to mention she's hot--"

"Nice way to remind me you're still just a man." [Name] countered, though she was more amused than anything else. Most of their walks together always consisted of Benji cracking some kind of crude joke that made [Name] cringe or laugh before they would run out of things to say and walk in silence together.

The first few days were nearly unbearable; the awkward silence and the fear of saying something offputting was enough to keep [Name] from doing or saying anything too damaging. Benji had been the first to break the tension when he had slipped on the wet pavement by her apartment. She wasn't sure she had laughed as hard as she did that day.

Still, some things felt missing but she hadn't had the chance to bring it up or was even sure if she wanted to bring it up. She was definitely sure Benji knew too; after all, he was a lot more perceptive than he led himself to be. Maybe he didn't know how to bring it up either. Regardless, if they felt something was off, they need to address it before it goes too far.

She tugged Benji's hand when they reached the crosswalk, directing themselves to the opposite way of either of their apartments. "Let's go somewhere before we head home." She only offers up. Benji goes along with it, letting her lead him to one of the overnight diners, King's Harbor.

Benji eyed the restaurant suspiciously. "Don't loonies only come in here?"

"Yes, you're looking at one right now." [Name] jokes quietly as she pulls him in. The diner was small, the inside seemingly taking them back into the 60s with the signature red and white leather chairs and a jukebox that hadn't worked in ages. Old posters of movies [Name] couldn't recognize besides Rosemary's Baby hung around in places where LED lights weren't swirling about along the walls.

"What a sight to see!" Yelena Hull calls out from behind the counter. "You're usually here past midnight, dove."

[Name] smiled. "Ah, well, I wanted to take my - ah..." She glanced at Benji sheepishly. "Benji to the diner."

"I'm her boyfriend." Benji states matter of factly, earning an elbow to the stomach by [Name]. He gave her an innocent look. "What? I am."

Yelena looks over at Benji, a smile breaking out of her face before turning to [Name]. "Well, lets get you and your Benji a seat!" She ushered the two to a corner table, just below the Rosemary's Baby movie poster. "Your favorite seat. And first good luck!"

Yelena sent a wink toward [Name], who covered her face in embarrassment as she walked away. "You'll have to excuse Yelena; I'm probably one of the only ones at the diner that doesn't disrupt her graveyard shifts."

"Why do you come here past midnight?" Benji asks.

[Name] motioned to her backpack. "To study. I can't really focus if my bed is a couple of feet away, you know?"

Benji gives [Name] a long look for a moment. "Do you just... Study and work?"

"Most times," [Name] admits. "But that's not why I brought you here. I know this little... Agreement we made is a little strange and we definitely didn't really start off on any proper footing so I guess I just wanted to, I don't know--?"

"Get to know each other more?" Benji suggests, making [Name] nod.

"Yeah - nothing too deep. Just simple stuff like favorite color but I think that's kind of obvious." She eyes his dark blue linen shirt and black pants before darting to her clothes - from her pink sweater to pink ribbons pinning some of her hair away. "But you know what I mean - we get to at least talk about something while we pretend to date."

"You're not wrong. Though not sure I want to hear about what you learned in class today." Benji says.

"I don't talk about class every day!" [Name] says back, throwing a balled up piece of straw cover between his brows.

Benji huffs, "Ha! Liar. You always talk about classes with me whenever I take you home. I swear, I know about your information science classes more than my own business classes."

"Because I had nothing else to talk about." [Name] counters. "Which is why--"

"We're here. I get it. But I still doubt you do anything fun."

The notion made [Name] glare at Benji, who only offered a smirk in response. When he'd gotten comfortable enough with her, he had ended up some weird mix of the Benji's she's seen: friendly and a provoker if he was in the mood.

[Name] rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I don't just study. I have actual hobbies."

Benji leaned into the table, a grin on his face. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I collect Peach Riots when I get the chance, go to the Kingsroad Market every Saturday and find a new recipe to eat while I watch horror movies--"

"Horror movies, huh?" Benji asks, glancing at the poster beside them. "And does that involve anyone?"

Chiara had only ever watched with [Name] if she was worn down long enough by the latter. It had taken her nearly a month and a promise to take the trash out that same month to convince her roommate to watch the Halloween series.

"Usually just me if Chiara can't or won't do that with me." She answers truthfully. "Your turn."

"I like hanging out with my friends." Benji starts, pausing a moment to think. "We go the bars and clubs around here often and sometimes go on weekends trips. Most times, though, we go to the beach just a couple miles from campus and have a campfire. Its only a couple of us but they make it really fun."

He seemed content when he spoke about his friends. Chiara hadn't been joking when she mentioned only sticking to a few people. [Name] wasn't even sure she saw him with them when they were just walking around campus, save for the Tully brothers who always made sure to make their friendship with Benji be known.

It made her wonder what it would be like to have a friend besides Chiara. [Name]'s first year had consisted of her constantly working shifts if it wasn't during the days she was on campus. Not to mention, CIC's small and elite population had her at a disadvantage since cliques and friend groups were already formed.

"Sounds nice." [Name] says to him, glad he was receptive to her impromptu change in their routine. Faintly, she checked the watch on her phone. "Am I holding you back, by the way?"

Benji shakes his head. "Nah. I got nothing tonight. Now, about those horror movies: what's your thoughts on that Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake?"

"Oh my god, do you have all night?"

The rest of the evening had been just that; movie hot takes and soon figuring out that both of them having an affinity for spicy food, even if Benji's mouth is burning a thousand degrees. By the time they had left the diner, they both had nearly everything to say and the walk felt shorter for [Name], which disappointed her greatly since they had gotten into the topic of Aeron Bracken's unusually inflated ego and how Benji went by his middle name "Davos" during Year 5 to 7 before dropping it because too many people were confused if Benjicot and Davos were the same people or not.

The night ended on a good note. [Name] had been more than eager to see Benji again soon instead of dreading trying to figure out what to say to him during their walks. Momentarily, she reminded herself about their agreed conditions and Benji's question from when they first spoke.

"We can't even be friends?"

Had they become friends? [Name] wonders to herself as she settled into bed that same night. For a moment she wants to push against it; making new friends outside of high school was tricky. Regardless, she felt a sense of calm and ease around him that she hadn't felt with many people here.

She pushes the panicked thought back as she closes her eyes, wondering just how interesting the next coming weeks will be now that Benjicot Blackwood seemingly found a way into her mundane routine.

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[barcaatthemoon]

after the party || claudia pina x reader ||

you take care of claudia after all of her celebrating.

you had no idea how any of the girls were still standing. your only saving grace was that you didn't drink. everybody was celebrating the win of the champion's league together, but they had also broken off into their own little groups. you sat back with anyone who couldn't get drunk, all while keeping an eye on claudia.

she was with cata, which had been for cata's protection at first. you thought back to your conversation that morning in the hotel about pacing. you were younger than both cata and claudia, but you were definitely the 'mom friend' of the group. it didn't bother you, they always made sure to let you have your nights doing whatever it was that you considered fun.

"hey!" claudia shouted as she stumbled over to where you were resting. it was the wee hours of the morning, and you had just gotten finished sending a group of your teammates back to the hotel in an uber. "i love you."

"i love you too," you told her. claudia's lips stretched into a smile. you could see the way that her eyes crinkled, something that you hadn't seen in a while. this whole time was stressful, and you knew that there were so many things that claudia had to worry about. it was nice to see her looking truly relaxed for once.

"why are you looking at me like that? is there something on my face? if it's lipstick, i swear it's not what you think. olga gave everybody kisses." you watched as claudia's face went from happy and relaxed and panicked. her mind was racing, so you leaned forward and cupped her cheeks in an attempt to relax her.

"it's nothing like that. i just like the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, it's cute. i haven't got to see that in a while, that's all," you promised her. claudia blushed as she fell into your lap. it would have been perfect if she had landed with her face not buried into your shirt, but as you felt her press kisses there, you couldn't help but laugh a little.

the party wasn't in full swing anymore, but it was still definitely raging. you could tell that it'd be going on until the morning at the very least. claudia wasn't going to last that long, and neither would you, so you took it upon yourself to walk her back home. calling a car would have been easier, but you wanted to feel the night air on your skin.

claudia wasn't nearly as out of it as you had originally assumed. you had planned on having to half-carry her all the way there, but once the two of you were outside, claudia sprinted away from you. it wasn't that she wanted to get away from you, but rather that she thought she saw an animal across the street.

"a puppy!" claudia shrieked as she sprinted.

"you're going to be the death of me," you muttered to yourself as you chased after her. claudia was faster than you normally as her position had her running much more than yours did. on any normal night, you wouldn't have been able to catch up with her, but the alcohol slowed her down immensely. "no, we're going to the hotel."

"but the puppy." claudia pouted up at you. there wasn't going to be an easy out with this, so you just ushered her towards the hotel while pretending to listen to her complaints. it didn't matter that as you made your way to the hotel you passed the alley where the animal was, and it was definitely not a puppy.

"clau, come on, let's get you out of that and into bed," you said as you reached for the hem of claudia's shirt. you had the foresight to leave some clothes on the bed to sleep in before the game. claudia wiggled around and tried to push you away at first, only to pull you in for a very sloppy kiss.

you gave her a couple of kisses on the lips to placate her, but went right back to trying to help her change after. every so often claudia would whine to get your attention, turning what should have been a quick task into a much longer one. despite the messiness of her kisses, you didn't mind stopping to give claudia what she wanted.

"i'm very proud of you, clau," you told her. you had been waiting all night to tell her, and once things settled down, you tried. claudia's reply was just a soft snore as the woman's small body flopped forward. you should have known that she was out when you felt her stop fighting with you, but you were too focused on not letting that pass you by. "i love you, but you're on your own in the morning with that hangover."

[shinobushaori]

Hey! Idk if u do take requests but if you do-

Can i request a female reader who's usually loud, confident and bold? kind of like rengoku friendly in a way. But when it comes to shinobu she gets visibly timid? and shy then shinobu gets confused by this because she sees reader act the opposite with everyone else and this makes her wanna know more about it and yeah It's ok if you don't take requests. Thank you, have a nice day. 🥰

A/N: I do take requests!! and I was kind of shocked that someone actually did. There's a bit of lore in the beginning, just for the build up! Also, I definitely made this deeper than it should be but it was so fun! What a cute idea btw, hope it's as you envisioned it. Featuring Jealous Shinobu if u squint bc why not hehe. I believe in oblivious Shinobu supremacy too >;3

TEA

kocho shinobu x female! reader

warnings: thoughts of suicide (in a freaking out, idiotic way), otherwise none.

word count: 2.3K

"My.."

Shinobu blinks at the sound that entered her ears. The triplets' laughter echoed throughout the huge estate and she was ecstatic to hear so. Typically, it would be the groans of injured slayers, blood and misery resulted by vicious demons and she was glad, for once, that the noise came from something so pure and positive.

As she rounded a corner, a sight welcomed her. The three girls happily circled an individual she didn't recognize.

A smile, an actual genuine one she couldn't hold, stretched her lips seeing the innocent interaction.

"[Name]-san! [Name]-san, did you save the kitty?" Naho spoke out, giddy on her place with both Sumi and Kiyo nodding their heads.

The female, who was notably lacking the uniform to identify what specific employment she's in, simply raised her arm to flex. A smug expression on her face, "Of course! Climbing the tree was easy enough. Kitties are usually unfriendly when in distress but if you remain calm, they will too!"

Shinobu couldn't help but giggle hearing the declaration and she was instantly discovered, seeing how four heads snapped her way.

"Shinobu-sama!" She smiled and patted the girls' head respectively when they came crashing towards her.

"Good afternoon, girls. I didn't interrupt, did I?" Kiyo immediately shook her head, "Of course not, Shinobu-sama! We were just chatting with [Name]-san. She was looking for you but you were away an hour ago, so.."

"Oh!" Shinobu averts her attention to the oddly quiet woman and sees her frozen in place.

"My apologies, I didn't make you wait too long did I?"

Suddenly, this made you quickly stand up on your spot. A flushed red tint, one Shinobu assumes to be embarrassment, entirely covers your (s/c) skin. You bowed, "You did not, K-Kocho-sama!"

You fully straighten yourself afterwards, rather stiffly. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing for my sudden disrupt appearance.."

Shinobu tilts her head as you take a deep breath, "M-My crow was left injured and unable to deliver the letter but Master insisted to talk to you personally, so.."

"Oh my, that's unfortunate," She claps her hands but the sight of you flinching due to it confused her, "..but if that's the case please don't fret. It must be urgent if it was Master himself that said so. We can have tea in my office?"

"Y-Yes!"

-

"I see.." Shinobu spoke as she brews her tea, seemingly in deep thought. Truly your story was unfortunate.

"Oh uh, yes. I may not look like it.. but my sister was a healer back in my village. Although, she wasn't a professional, I learned a lot from her. She treated the others in our village until no one could treat herself. Although, in the end it was all futile because of the demons.. Still, I respect her as a doctor."

Shinobu smiles at your words, she sets down her tea aside before facing you. "And you too, are respectable, [Name]-san. I appreciate your act of wanting to help out."

You perk at the mention of your name, the existing blush worsening on your face. "Ye-Yes! Thank you, Kocho-sama!" Then you deflated on your seat, "But.. no pressure of course! I could be a kakushi if you don't want me here as a helper. I originally wanted to be a demon slayer but.."

Shinobu watches as you frown, looking down at your bandaged palms. "..Master recommended the opposite. Although my months of training would be a waste, I think he's right that my path isn't for demon slaying."

Shinobu hums, staring at how you stiffen on your seat when your eyes catches hers. You've been doing that a lot the time the two of you were conversing.

".. You're a great person, [Name]-san. Seeing how you've already bonded with our girls, it's safe to say that you belong here, in the Butterfly Estate, with us."

And seeing the teary eyed look on your face, she pulls you in a short hug. She feels your head nod.

"Thank you, Kocho-sama.."

She hoped you wouldn't be uncomfortable around her anymore.

-

The weeks passed, months later on and Shinobu wasn't wrong on her judgement. You really did fit with the Butterfly girls, as if you've been here for so long and she couldn't be more happy.

You're friendly, warm and passionate. An earnest person she couldn't help but adore.

You fit perfectly with the triplets, interactions often than not leading to a hearty conversation about your journey. With Aoi, you complimented her brooding personality. A, "Lighten up, Aoi!" leaving your lips everytime she kicks out you for stealing food. With Kanao too, who you often converse with. Albeit, one-sidedly but that didn't seem to dull you at all, it motivated you to talk more even.

With your lively presence, you absolutely lightened up the already hearty estate. Laughs and shouts often echoing and the burden of chores were lessened as well. You were helpful and more than eager to do chores for other people. And she could see the girls, herself included, appreciated you a lot.

That said, it isn't the same with Shinobu at all.

"U-uh!? Kocho-sama, I-I'll take care of it!"

"O-Oh, uhm. I suppose you're right. H-Have a nice day, Kocho-sama!"

Like at all.

Did she do something wrong? Everytime you were talking to someone else, you seemed like yourself. Happy go lucky, loud and bold.

And yet, everytime Shinobu appears near you, all your personality is thrown against the wall and all left is a timid, soft spoken person and this frustratingly bothers her to no end.

She did find this odd side of you cute, if it wasn't for the possibility that this is your way of being uncomfortable around her.

She takes notes that with authority, one could appear intimidating but she makes out herself anything but that. And this theory is debunked when..

"Kyah!! [Name]-chan!!"

The thuds of familiar footsteps were difficult to ignore, much less the squeal she could clearly hear and recognize.

It suprised her how you were particularly close to her fellow Hashira.

"Mitsuri-san?"

The sight of the strong and beautiful Love Hashira hugging you tightly, your feet dangling on the air, weirdly irritated Shinobu. Maybe she just didn't like her workers in an uncomfortable place?

"Wahh, Mitsuri! How have you been!" The wide smile on your face as you hugged the woman back is definitely far from uncomfortable though.

A vein popped out of Shinobu's forehead.

Mitsuri, who plants you back on the ground turns around feeling Shinobu's presence. She, bless her heart, visibly brightens up at the sight of the smaller woman and runs up to hug her as well.

"It's been so long, Shinobu-chan!!" The dark aura around Shinobu scattered, sweatdropping at her friend's tight hold. "Yes, yes it's been a while." Mitsuri finally lets go of her while the purple eyed woman scans her being.

"Are you badly injured?" The question seems to bring Mitsuri to reality as almost immediately, tears swell up her eyes. She took both, you and Shinobu's hand, with her left hand and held you both as she cried out in pain.

"Wahh.. this mean demon definitely purposely made me fall! I thought I already beheaded him but! but! suddenly I fell to the ground and broke my armmm!!!" She whines loudly and Shinobu hums seeing the poorly done makeshift cast.

Mitsuri pulls you closer, "[Name]-chaaaannn, I missed you so much! You were always there to patch me up everytimeee!!"

This definitely took Shinobu's attention, she tilts her head with a smile. "Ah?"

You, who were consoling Mitsuri heard Shinobu say. Sweatdropping you explain, "Uh, my trainer's estate was close to Mitsuri's and uh- we became friends. She gets bad cuts often."

Shinobu simply hums in understanding. She watches as you reassure the Hashira that you will help and make her an actual cast.

And suddenly, for some odd reason, she goes on her day absolutely irked.

-

You jog into the kitchen, clearly tired. Consoling Mitsuri is usually easy enough but not when there's other whining patients as well. You sigh as you slip inside, before smiling at the variety of delicious food.

You salivated on the spot and just as you were about to secretly take something- Aoi, who was always there, spoke out. "Do you want to wash the dishes for five hours straight again?"

"Aoi-chaaannn, stop being so mean!!" You whine with a teasing smile.

She loudly sighs and gives you a plate of brewed tea. "You'll have your lunch only if, you deliver this to Shinobu-sama first. Be polite, she was somehow mad the whole day."

You felt your legs seemingly transform into jelly and that hot, familiar feeling settle itself in your stomach unwillingly. Heat and blood transfers into your neck and ears at the mere mention of her name.

"A-Aoi! I-I- the girls should be able to easily do it! Why me?!"

Aoi raises a brow before scowling, "Because you're an idiot! Stop acting pathetic and move on from your crush on Shinobu-sama if you're not gonna act on it!"

"Guh!" You spit out blood hearing her harsh words. Setting the tea aside, you quickly try covering her mouth to shush her. "Stop! Someone could hear you!"

She rolls her eyes and push you away, "As if anyone with a brain can't see that you practically fall on your knees around her."

"Aoi!" You tremble at the thought of anyone, Shinobu out of all people, hearing Aoi's loud declaration.

"Just go! Or no lunch today!"

She kicks you out of the kitchen and you sniff, you can't do this! You don't even know where Shinobu is!

"She's in her room, by the way!"

And with Aoi's last shout, you wanted to bury yourself alive.

Her room! Not the office, nor the engawa she's usually on- Her private room! No, you'll fucking die before you can even knock on her door! Actually, you'd very much prefer to die.

Alas, the rumble in your stomach was too hard to ignore. This could go smoothly if you just.. be calm. Yes, exactly. Just knock, greet, then leave.

Yes.

So easy.

Knock, greet, leave.

Knock, greet, leave.

You fasten your pace until you were standing in front of her room. The plate on hand trembling alongside your sweating arms.

Knock, greet, leave.

Quick! Raise your arm!

Knock, greet, leave. Knock, greet, leave. Knockgreetlea-

Shinobu suddenly appears. "Oh, [Name]. Good afternoon, do you need something?"

"KNOCK." You hand her the plate.

"GREET." You bow before-

"LEAVE." You immediately ran out of her way.

Shinobu watches this all with widen eyes. She calmly places the plate down, a dark smile on her face before she, herself, runs towards the direction you went to.

"Fufu, let's see if you could run away from me this time, [Name]."

-

You huff and pant, clinging onto the roof of one of the warehouses. You absolutely bombed that simple task! How the hell are you gonna face her now!?

"I'm gonna kill myself.." You mutter as you hugged yourself.

"Oh my, I'm not gonna approve that, my dear~!"

"Huh?" You blankly stare at the fluttering familiar haori as someone's feet landed in front of you.

"Am I hallucinating?" Shinobu giggles, taking your arm before you could escape as you squeak at her hold.

"Ko-Kocho-sama-"

She leans closer to your head, your face erupting into different shades of red but Shinobu ignores this and stares at you. "[Name].."

Your breath hitch.

You know she's waiting for your response. So, you gulp and answer with your trembling voice. "..yes, Kocho-sama?"

"Be frank with me, will you? Why.." You follow the movement of her fingers as it sets itself on your cheek, tapping it.

"Y-Yes?"

You basically melt at her touch when you hear her giggle.

"Why are you always avoiding me, hm?"

Your brain froze and seemingly got clogged. Inwardly, you prayed to whatever existing god to kill you via heart attack in this exact moment.

Actually, with the most breathtaking girl cradling you? That might just be possible.

Not wanting to make her wait, you respond. "I-I don't.. know what you're talking about!!" Your widened eyes look away as you spoke.

You hear her purr and take you by your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. Her purple eyes makes your stomach drop and heart skip.

"Didn't I tell you to be frank with me? It's an order from the head of the house!" She chirps and leans closer, her breath warmed your steaming face as you finally gave in.

"Pretty.."

Shinobu blinks, tilting her head and leaning away. She watch as you cover your face between your hands.

"You're too pretty to face, Shinobu-sama!"

Shinobu's own face and neck heat up at your words. "What?" She couldn't believe what nonsense you were saying.

You peek out of your fingers shyly, "You're so pretty.. everytime I'm around you, I can't seem to think of a singular coherent sentence. It's absolutely embarrassing.."

"Eh?" Shinobu feels the warmth creep up more.

"I-I'm sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you! I wanted to keep a strict relationship with you because it felt like I was taking advantage of your kind gestures!"

You sigh, fists forming itself. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me now. I know, It's especially weird since we're both girls-" You look up at her and stiffen seeing the bewildered plus flushed look on her.

"Ko-Kocho-sama-!?"

Shinobu raises her hand, successfully shushing you. She looks everywhere but your eyes and for the first time, you see her usually chirpy and sometimes flirty demeanor take a shift.

"How about we.. start fresh.."

She looks up at you and your heart beats faster. "..with tea, perhaps?"

Blinking, you pinch yourself to see if this is all just an absurd dream and yet it wasn't. It absolutely wasn't.

Not wanting to make her wait than you already made her, you nodded with a shy smile.

"I'd love that."

[flamingpudding]

I have a new prompt idea and it's dark

So the Nightingale / Fentons are a pretty curse family and one of the curses is one where any Nightingale that tries to leave behind the family name will either greatly disappoint their family or Die because of being curious

It's a long curse starting all the way back to there great great great uncle Kingsley (Klarion) Nightingale because he was the sibling of the original Nightingale it started the The witch Hunt because he didn't get magic but Klarion he started killing which is one of them curses entire family not knowing that the rest of them were witches

Which cost to chain reaction to every Nightingale that tries to walk away from a family suffering a terrible fate like Thomas Fenton Nightingale who ran away and change his names in Thomas Wayne and was able to rebrand his entire but died with his wife after they got too curious of the Court Of Owls

Cursing his family for always being on the bad side of History cuz a few of his cousins were working with the court of owls

So when the original Nightingale started to finally pick off his family that was trying to run away from The Nightingales Kingsley was burned alive cursing the Nightingale Fenton name

Or Danny Fenton who died in the portal accident came back alive and disappointed his parents were setting with the ghost instead of hunting them

How this is all figured out is Constantine is checking over Batman for curses when he's like oh you have a family named curse and I like oh the lame one he's like no your father's real name he ends up finding out all of this information

Can you even affect Jason because he was adopted by Bruce making him technicality a nightingale and he died being mad at Bruce for not saving him and came back still cursing Bruce

So this could be a crack prompt or a really angsty one depending on how you view it because Batman is finding out that he's really into all of these people but he somewhat knows or realizing that he definitely affected all of his robins due to a family person to give no he actually had

Which continued

Interesting Idea... I like some of the premises... here and many ideas are really interesting!

> So i took a spin at this throughout several weeks. yes this has been sitting in my drafts for a long time and i added things slowly but in the end it still is a pretty short piece... sorry... writing really has been hard for me lately again...

Though I think i might have gone a little astray from what you originally had here though or didn't include it enough.

Hope you will still enjoy the following!

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John Constantine sometimes really hated having to work with the Bat and not just because he was one of these spandex wearing goody two shoes heroes. Okay maybe goody two shoes was a stretch but Bats was one of the heroes that annoyed him still. There was also another reason. Something he had slightly noticed since the first time he had meet the man. But back then he had ignored it.

Like hell was he going to get involved more than necessary with the bat suit wearing hero.

Well with the passing years it more and more became something he couldn't ignore any more. Especially since whatever it was had a certain stink to it that John really hated right now. Not just because he was forced to sit in one of these many Boy Scout meetings because Zatana was busy. It tickled his mage senses, but not in a good way. No it was the way that really made him want to take a swing of his flask, he would take one if he wasn't running the risk of his flask getting taken away from him by one of these heroes.

"Yre fucking cursed to hell and back, mate." John decided to speak up instead anyway with a dead-stare at Batman and interrupting whatever else Sups was going on about. Okay so maybe in reconsideration, John should have waited until after the meeting to say anything at all, really. But in his defense, Batmans curse was stinking even more now. Like it had been freshly activated by something.

Great thing, whatever the meeting had been about before got completely forgotten as everyone focused on the fact that THE Batman apparently had managed to get cursed given his history with magic. Bad thing, Batman pressured John into investigating what kind of freaking curse stuck to Batman. And boy, can he say that explaining to Batman that he was stuck with a centuries old course that was pretty much affecting anyone he sees as family was not fun, nore was explaining that this wasn't a recent curse but one he had very much inherited from his father.

"Nightingale, the name ringing any bells Batsie? Curse is tied to that name apparently." Was what he ended is explanation with only to get a stoic stare and a grunt as answer. Sometimes John really wanted to wrangle that hero in particular.

"Can you trace it back?" John side eyed Sups who looked worriedly between him and Batman.

"Can you trace it back..." He repeated with a mocking mutter, who did they think he was? Of course John could trace it back, he wouldn't even need to sell his souls for the x-time to do that. Not like he would for Bats of all people, but then again, he had sold his souls for less before. "Of course I can trace it back, mate."

John took just a little bit of pleasure in the fact that he was in a position to demand something from Batman when he pestered the man for a bit of his hair or fingernail clippings to use as a medium to trace the origin back. It wasn't nice anymore when he traced it back to an area that was the magical equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. Ground Zero. A No-Go. Do not Touch with a ten foot pole. The Do Not Enter of the magical world.

To say the heroes weren't impressed when they saw him taking a very needed swing from his flask was an understatement. Because seriously John needed a stronger Whiskey for this shit.

"What the hell do you have to do with Amity Park!?"

Danny meanwhile felt a shiver going down his spine, but he shock it off as he souped Skulker for the 3rd time this month. His eyes surveyed the area for a moment wondering what was going on before he once again choose to shrug it off. His legs turning into his ghostly tail as he flew back towards Fenton Works. Unaware of the storm brewing far away, while Clockwork was cackling in his tower contemplating if he should give his ghost child a heads up or not.