#domestic boyfriends idk

[saucywendeee]

“Time for bed, Johnny.”

“One more sketch.” 

[poems-of-a-lover]

i want a boyfriend to fold laundry with

[baseballmomlesbiandad]

ending on the coffee AND the saved keychain, I'm crying

[ggigigoode]

no i don’t think you understand that is my p-p-partner

[belle-of-a-time]

Y’all I realized that I just assume any small animal booking it across the road at night is a cat.

Saw a Havelina scamper across the road once. Like a little one a baby. (Type of wild pig for anyone curious) and my first thought was “that’s a weird looking cat” and my second thought was “oh piggy! I hope it goes away from here..”

Then while my boyfriend was driving we saw a raccoon cross the road and my first though was “the fuck is wrong with that cat!?” Because it looked like if you gave a cat a monkeys bone structure. And when I made a EUGH noise my boy goes “what do you not like raccoons?” And I’m actually terrified of them they carry rabies which I am probably more than reasonably scared of and also they have Nasty little baby hands with tiny knives on the end why would I think that’s cute. They’re just little guys! Yeah guys who could rip my face off if they wanted I don’t want to fuck with that.

[clownpassing]

.

[coricomile]

Dear Deep Night Special Episode,

Wela/Khemtid is still uninteresting on all counts, and I could have done without the clip show for 60% of the ~new episode.

Seji continues to be the only one I care about, and for a hot second I thought he was getting a third boyfriend, but it was just an insurance ad that kept going through to the next scene. I am sure groups of 20somethings often discuss putting their life insurance in their partner's name after a month or two of dating. ;__;

But thanks for all the softcore horny scenes being compiled together, and kudos to whoever on the subtitles team decided to change "host" to "PR manager".

[kyo-isuppose]

Tsk tsk

if tumblr had polls in 2015 I know iwaoi would have never lost in round 3 of a ship poll. How easily we forget our roots

[cumironi]

ONE TOO MANY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

wc. 4,3k | m.list | part. 2

warning. boyfriends! satosugu, angst to fluff (kinda), petnames, light arguments, silent treatment, and idk.

as you sit on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows across the room, you glance at the clock. it's late—much later than usual for geto and gojo to be coming home. a knot of worry tightens in your chest, but you push it aside. you know their work can be demanding, but you miss them.

the door finally creaks open, and your heart leaps as geto and gojo step inside. but something feels off. their usual smiles are absent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. geto barely acknowledges you with a nod, and gojo doesn't even glance your way, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“hey...” you begin softly, but your voice trails off as they move around the room like you're not even there. geto drops his bag by the door and heads for the stairs, clearly ready to crash in bed without a word. gojo's usually bright eyes are dull, and when he finally looks at you, it's with a tired expression that makes your heart sink.

“i’m just... really tired,” gojo mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze.

you feel a wave of frustration and hurt rise within you. they’ve had long days before, but they’ve never been so dismissive. you stand up, crossing your arms, trying to figure out what to say, how to break through whatever barrier has suddenly sprung up between you. “baby... what's going on?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

geto pauses at the base of the stairs, sighing deeply, “just... give us some space, okay? we’ve had a rough day.”

his words hit you harder than they should, and you’re left standing there, feeling more alone than ever as they head off to bed without another word. the room feels colder, emptier, and you’re left wondering if it’s something you did, or if there’s something they’re not telling you.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen. your stomach does a flip, a hint of excitement mixing with lingering unease. you slide out of bed and pad down the stairs, your heart rate picking up as you near the kitchen.

the sight that greets you is unexpected. geto and gojo stand side by side, their back to you as they putter in the kitchen. gojo's tall form easily dominates the space, his shoulders broader than you remembered. geto's hair is ruffled, still messy from sleep, and it's a stark contrast to his usually composed appearance. they haven't noticed you yet, engrossed in their task as they move around each other in a synchronized dance.

you lean against the doorway, watching them for a moment. gojo's slender fingers skillfully flip pancakes, and geto hums along to the music playing softly in the background, a spatula in his hand as he tends to the bacon.

it's a scene so domestic and natural, yet it feels surreal given their cold demeanor from last night. it's as if they're trying to pretend yesterday never happened, to go back to normalcy. geto suddenly looks up, catching your gaze. his expression turns serious, his dark eyes locking onto yours. gojo continues cooking, his back still to you, but you can almost feel the tension radiating from him.

“you're up,” geto comments, his voice neutral.

you clear your throat, trying to keep your tone light, “yeah, the coffee smell woke me up.”

“coffee's almost done,” gojo says without turning around, his voice lacking its usual playful edge. an awkward silence settles over the room, thick and stifling.

you watch as they continue to cook, each movement precise and calculated. no small talk, no casual touches or laughter like you're used to. gojo plates the pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table, before finally turning to face you. his normally bright eyes are cool and detached.

“breakfast is ready,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the distance between you growing wider with every passing moment. the breakfast they've prepared looks delicious, but sitting down to eat together feels like an impossible feat given the current atmosphere.

you shift your weight, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further. the air in the kitchen is charged, and the earlier domestic scene has been shattered. geto turns back to the stove, his shoulders tense as he tends to the food. gojo continues flipping pancakes, his movements more rigid than normal.

“so...” you begin, your voice breaking the silence, “about last night—”

“don't,” geto interrupts, his voice firm. “can we just not do this right now?”

his blunt response hangs in the air, and you're taken aback by his abruptness. you feel your frustration and confusion mounting, but before you can say anything, gojo puts down the spatula, his voice laced with irritation.

“yeah, maybe we should just focus on the food,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the room falls into an awkward silence again, only the sound of cooking filling the air. you can feel the tension building, the unspoken words and emotions hanging heavily between you.

you look at them for a second, just staring without saying a words and they can see how quickly your expression change to cold as clear as the day. you swallow hard, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. instead, you just nod, barely meeting his eyes as you mumble, “okay.” your voice comes out small, almost defeated, as you focus on the floor.

even as you agree to let it go, the hurt gnaws at you. you want to bridge the gap, to reach out to them, but the coldness in their demeanor keeps you at arm’s length. the silence stretches on, and you’re left feeling more alone than ever, standing just a few feet away from the two people you thought you were closest to.

the meal is eaten in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. neither geto nor gojo make an effort to talk like they usually do, their eyes focused on their food. gojo's movements are mechanical, while geto's gaze keeps shifting towards you, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination to keep his distance.

as you finish eating, they quickly rise, busying themselves with cleaning up, still avoiding any meaningful eye contact with you.

as satoru reaches for your plate, you finally speak up, your voice firmer than you expected, “don’t.” he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your plate. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look up. “i’ll do it myself,” you add, your tone making it clear that this isn’t up for debate.

geto looks up, his eyes flicking between you and gojo as if silently trying to communicate. gojo seems ready to argue, his jaw clenching, but geto subtly shakes his head, a silent warning. a beat of tense silence passes before gojo reluctantly pulls back his hand, a flash of something that looks like hurt in his eyes. he mumbles something under his breath that you don't quite catch.

pushing down the knot of emotions threatening to choke you, you stand up from the table and walk towards the sink where geto is still standing, his presence a heavy weight in the small space. without looking at him, you ask, your voice edged with coldness, “are you done?”

geto nods, his expression unreadable as he steps back slightly. there’s a moment where you consider softening your tone, but the way they’ve been treating you today and days before hardens your resolve.

“then move,” you say, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. if they want to treat you like this, then you’re not going to just sit there and take it. you’ve given them space, tried to be patient, but their coldness is more than you can handle right now.

geto hesitates, a flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before he steps aside, giving you room to move past him. you take your plate to the sink, the cool metal under your fingers grounding you as you begin to rinse it off, your movements sharp, deliberate.

as you stand there, the sound of running water filling the silence, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders. but you don’t turn around. if they want to push you away, you won’t beg them to stay close. not tonight, not anymore.

geto remains where he stands, watching you silently, while gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you as well. the minutes pass in a tense silence, the sound of the water and the clinking of dishes the only noise. you can feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into your skin, but you keep your focus on the task at hand, refusing to break.

geto finally breaks the silence, his voice soft, but with an edge of determination, “can we talk?”

you pause for a moment, letting his request hang in the air. a bitter scoff escapes your lips as you turn off the water, feeling a surge of irony wash over you. you turn to face him, your expression hard as you look between geto and satoru. “oh, now you wanna talk?” you ask, your voice laced with mockery. “when i wanted to talk, you both shut me out. but now that i’m doing the same, suddenly it’s time for a conversation?”

there’s a biting edge to your words, a reflection of the hurt and frustration that’s been building up inside you all weeks. you don’t bother hiding it, letting them feel a fraction of what you’ve been feeling. if they want to push you away, then they’ll have to deal with the consequences.

geto falters, his expression flitting momentarily to gojo, before returning to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and stubbornness. gojo doesn’t say anything, his jaw set, but you can sense the tension radiating from him as well.

“i know,” geto starts, his voice a bit shaky, “i know we’re being unfair. we owe you an explanation. we just…” he trails off, his gaze breaking yours as he glances at gojo again, almost seeking validation. gojo remains silent, his face stoic, but his eyes betray a flicker of internal struggle.

they both shift uncomfortably under your sharp words, gojo’s gaze darting away and geto’s expression darkening. their discomfort only adds fuel to your indignation.

“yeah, it’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” you continue, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you ignore me for weeks and then suddenly want to talk when i’m finally done playing your little game. well, too bad. i’m done playing along,” you turn the water off and walk away to your shared bedroom.

gojo’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can step away. the suddenness of his action catches you off guard, his grip tight but not aggressive. “wait,” he says, his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

geto steps towards you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination, “please.”

the desperation in their voices is unmistakable, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability they’ve shown all weeks. it’s enough to make you hesitate, to feel a flicker of reluctance. but you stood on your grounds— trying to stood on your ground. “i have works to do,” you mumble before push his hand away.

the past few days have been a blur, a mixture of long hours and late nights. you've been coming home later and later, deliberately avoiding going to bed with them, choosing instead to crash on the couch, wrapped in a blanket of silence and exhaustion. it’s not just the late nights—it’s the subtle shift in your routine, the way you’ve distanced yourself, mirroring the coldness they showed you that night. you’re not even sure if they’ve noticed, but it’s become your own form of silent rebellion, a way to protect yourself.

tonight is no different. when you finally walk through the door, it’s nearly one in the morning, your body heavy with fatigue. you’re expecting the house to be dark and quiet, but as you step into the kitchen, the soft light catches your attention. they’re both there, geto and gojo, standing near the stove, the faint smell of food lingering in the air.

gojo looks up first, his expression serious but tinged with something you can’t quite place. geto follows, his gaze steady as he watches you enter. “can we talk?” gojo asks, his voice more gentle than it’s been in days.

you hesitate, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag. “talk about what?” you reply, your voice is neutral, guarded. geto steps closer, concern etched into his features. “we heard you’ve started taking missions again,” he says quietly, the words heavy with implication. “why?”

you feel a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or frustration. they ignored you, pushed you away, and now they want to question your choices? it feels like a cruel twist of fate.

“why not?” you shoot back, dropping your bag onto the counter with a soft thud. “i figured if you two can focus on work and shut me out, then maybe i should do the same. why waste time waiting around?”

gojo's expression hardens at your answer, a shadow passing over his features. geto’s eyes flick between you both, his expression pained. “we’re not shutting you out,” gojo insists, his voice strained, “we’re just..”

“busy,” geto finishes, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the kitchen falls into thick silence, the tension stretching the air between you all. gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, while geto stands in the middle, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

you feel the pressure of their gazes on you, waiting for some reaction, some sign of understanding or forgiveness. but instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, your expression carefully neutral. “okay,” you mutter, the word simple but loaded with a cold indifference that makes their attempts at explanation feel small.

gojo shifts his weight, clearly frustrated by your continued coldness. his jaw clenches. geto tries a different angle, his voice soft. “we've been worried about you being out there alone.”

your eyes flicker back to his, and a flash of irritation passes through them. “alone?” you echo, a bitter edge to your tone. “really? you guys have been MIA for weeks, but now you're worried about me being alone?” the absurdity of the situation hits you, and a mocking laugh bubbles up, escaping in a few harsh chuckles. “you guys are unbelievable,” you say, the laughter carrying a mix of disbelief and hurt.

the laughter seems to take them by surprise, their faces reflecting a mix of guilt and confusion. the mocking tone of your voice stings, cutting through their attempts at reconciliation with a sharp edge.

gojo's jaw tenses, his hand clenching into a fist.

geto winces at the sound of your laughter, his eyes downcast. “i know it looks bad,” he murmurs, his voice almost pitiful.

“looks bad?” you repeat, your voice raises an octave, anger leaking into your words. “that's a nice way to put it. you two have been distant for weeks, acting like i don't even exist. then suddenly you're here, in the kitchen, when you know most nights i get home late.”

you step forward, your eyes narrowing as you gesture towards them. “were you waiting for me?” you ask, your voice quiet but seething with anger. “were you hoping to catch me in a weak moment, when i'm tired and vulnerable, so you could have this little heart-to-heart and feel better about yourselves?”

they both take a step back, looking taken aback by your sudden aggression. gojo's expression is a mix of guilt and defensiveness, while geto's eyes widen at the accusation. you take a deep breath, letting the anger ebb away just enough to speak. “i don't have time for this,” you say, letting out a sigh, “i only came home to get my things because my flight leaves in two hours. i’ve got a mission abroad for a week.”

the reality of your departure hangs in the air, the urgency in your voice making it clear that this conversation will have to wait. you turn, starting to gather your things, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as you move. the distance between you all feels like an insurmountable chasm, but for now, you have to focus on what’s ahead.

geto's eyes widen in surprise, while gojo's face pales. “wait—” they both speak at the same time, their voices filled with a mix of shock and desperation. geto quickly regains his composure, stepping forward, his arm reaching out. “hold on a second,” he says, his voice urgent, “you can't just leave—” gojo cuts in, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. “you’re not seriously going alone, are you?”

you brush off geto's arm, continuing to gather your things. “i don't have a choice,” you reply, your voice firm. “the higher-ups assigned me to the mission. i have to go.” gojo steps in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of pleading in them. “can we at least talk about this?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you pause, hesitating for a moment before shaking your head. “there’s nothing to talk about. my flight leaves soon, and i have to get ready.”

you can see the hurt in their eyes, the realization of your words sinking in. they hadn’t been there for you, and now they expected you to stay? to wait around for a conversation you didn’t think they even wanted to have?

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. “what if something happens to you out there?” he says, his voice low and tense. geto steps forward, his eyes on yours, his voice pleading. “you can’t just leave things like this.” the desperation in their voices is a stark contrast to the coldness you’ve been experiencing these past few days. but it’s too little, too late.

your hands pause for a moment, your heart rate increasing at their reactions. you had wanted a reaction, but this intense concern was not what you had expected. you look back at them, your expression carefully nonchalant, despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“why not?” you asked, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. “you two are the ones who have been busy and distant. if you've got your own priorities, then why can't i have mine?”

gojo lets out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “that's not fair,” he mutters, his voice strained. geto looks torn, his eyes flickering between you and gojo. “just because we've been preoccupied doesn’t mean we don’t care.” the guilt in his voice is evident, mirroring the guilt you’ve been feeling. but you push it aside, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

you let out a heavy sigh and sit down, looking up at them with a weary expression. “then what's fair, satoru?” you ask, your voice is steady but tinged with frustration. “tell me. i’ve been waiting for you two for days, weeks even. when i don’t wait around and i finally start doing things for myself, that’s not fair?”

the question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you. the silence that follows is thick with unresolved feelings, leaving the three of you standing on the edge of understanding, yet unable to bridge the gap between you.

gojo's gaze drops to the floor, his jaw clenching as if he’s struggling with his own emotions. geto's eyes flit between you both, his expression pained as he takes in your words. there's a moment of heavy silence before gojo finally speaks up, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

“you're right,” he admits, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “we've been shitty. we’ve been distant, ignoring you, making you feel like we don’t care.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes meeting yours as well. “we messed up,” he adds, his voice soft. “we've been dealing with some things and we shut you out.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair again, his gaze darting away and then back to yours. “we didn't mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere, “we just... we weren't thinking.” the weight of their words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel a pang of sadness at their regret. “but you did hurt me,” you reply softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability.

they both flinch at your words, their expressions flickering with guilt and remorse. gojo lets out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching into fists.

“we know,” he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. geto steps closer, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. “we were idiots,” he says, his voice filled with remorse, “we didn't realize how much we were hurting you until you started spending less time with us.”

you take a deep breath as you stand to leave, the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension still linger between you. “i need to go. ijichi is waiting for me,” you say, the words firm but carrying an undertone of sadness.

you pause at the door, looking back at them. “we can talk when i get home,” you add, offering a faint, weary smile before stepping out. the door closes behind you, leaving them with the weight of your words and the promise of a future conversation.

they both watch you leave, their expressions a mixture of guilt, sorrow and a hint of hope. gojo's shoulders slump as you close the door behind you, while geto lets out a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the empty space where you were just a moment ago.

the apartment feels strangely quiet without you, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air. they both know they have a lot to make up for, but for now, they wait, anxiously anticipating your return.

a week has passed, and the tension has only built as they waited for your return. when you finally come home, the sight that greets you in the living room is striking. geto and gojo are there, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperation. they look worn, their usual composure replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though the time apart has taken a visible toll on them.

they both rise as you enter, their eyes searching your face, a mix of hope and apprehension in their gazes. it’s clear they’ve been counting the days, each passing moment stretching into a painful reminder of their mistakes and your absence.

“hey,” you greet them with a small, tentative smile.

the room is thick with unspoken words and emotions. geto and gojo exchange a glance, their expressions softening slightly at your presence. they both take in your appearance, their eyes roving over you as if checking for any sign of injury from your recent mission. their shoulders relax somewhat, relieved that you're relatively unharmed.

gojo is the first to speak, his voice low and hoarse, as if he hasn't used it much these past few days. “you're back,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. geto stands behind him, his arms crossed as if holding back his own mixture of relief and anxiety. “how was the mission?” he asks, his voice a soft counterpoint to the tense silence.

you nod, your smile fading slightly as you respond. “the mission went well,” you say, your voice calm but carrying a hint of fatigue. geto uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing a bit, while gojo’s shoulders seem to ease from their tightness. the tension in the room begins to shift, making way for the conversation and reconciliation that have been waiting for this moment.

you nod in response, your heart feeling the weight of the moment. “yeah, we can talk,” you say, but the words feel inadequate for what you’re really craving. “but could you hug me? i feel like i’m going to lose my mind if i don’t get a hug from you right now.”

gojo doesn't need to be told twice. he immediately steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight grip, pulling you into his chest, his embrace so strong it almost lifts you off the ground. he buries his face in your hair, his breath shaky against your skin. “god, i missed you so much,” he murmurs, the words muffled against you.

geto hesitates for a moment, watching gojo's embrace. the sight of it makes his chest ache, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. but then, as if unable to resist, he steps closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his front pressed against your back. his embrace is gentler than gojo's, but no less heartfelt. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

you let out a deep sigh of relief as they wrap their arms around you. the warmth and closeness of their embrace offer a sense of comfort that you've been missing. the tension that’s built up over the past week starts to dissolve, replaced by the soothing reassurance of their presence. in this moment, the words and explanations can wait as you simply allow yourself to be held and to feel that things might start to mend.

they both hold you tight, their arms firm against you. their hold is almost possessive, as if they're afraid you're going to slip away. they don't say anything, their only response a mix of soft breathing and the occasional whispered murmur of your name.

after a few moments, gojo pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his blue eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years. his voice is hoarse when he speaks, filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. “can we sit?” you nod, a small but weary smile crossing your face. “yeah, let’s sit,” you agree, feeling the weight of the past week begin to lift just a little as you prepare to talk and hopefully begin to heal together.

they both guide you to the couch, with gojo sitting beside you while geto takes the armchair across from the two of you. as you settle into the cushions, their eyes follow your every move, as if afraid you might disappear again at any moment.

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. gojo seems a bit unsure where to start, his eyes flickering between you and geto. geto takes the initiative, his eyes staying fixed on you. “we owe you an explanation,” he says, his voice soft but filled with regret. “we understand why you’re angry at us, and we’re sorry.”

gojo fidgets beside you, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands in his lap before he forces himself to look at you again. “we were caught up in some things,” he says, his voice low and almost ashamed. “and we shouldn’t have shut you out like we did.”

geto nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “we were idiots, plain and simple,” he admits, his voice filled with remorse. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you started distancing yourself from us. seeing you leave, not knowing if you were okay or not, it was one of the worst things we’ve ever experienced.”

you listen quietly, your fingers absently playing with the hem of your skirt. their words, while sincere, do little to erase the hurt you still feel from the past week. the pain lingers, a reminder of the distance and isolation you felt.

they both notice your distant expression, the silence in the room growing heavier. gojo’s hand clenches into a fist by his side, his eyes pained as he watches you fiddle with your skirt. geto’s eyes flicker to gojo for a moment before refocusing on you. he seems to struggle for words, his expression filled with regret. “can you look at us?” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

you slowly lift your gaze, meeting their eyes. the hurt is still there, but you try to convey a sense of willingness to listen and understand. “i’m here,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “i’m listening.”

gojo's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily, to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if seeking some physical connection to ground him. his grip is gentle but firm, a plea for forgiveness and understanding in his touch.

geto's eyes flicker between your faces, his expression taut. “we’ve been careless,” he says, his voice thick with remorse. “we’ve been too lost in other things and we didn’t pay enough attention to you. and that was wrong of us.”

as geto speaks, his remorse is evident in his voice, you take a deep breath. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with the hurt you've been holding onto. “it wasn’t just about not paying enough attention. it felt like you didn’t care at all, and that really hurt.”

they both flinch at your words, their expressions crumpling with guilt. gojo’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes dark with remorse, while geto nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

“we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t care,” geto says softly, his voice filled with regret. “we were just…” he trails off, struggling to articulate the weight of their actions.

gojo steps in, his voice strained. “we were dealing with some stuff, and we didn’t handle it well. there were ongoing issues with the higher-ups, never-ending missions, and the stress of yuuta and yuji’s executions. the pressure from the school and everything else just piled up, and we let it affect how we treated you.”

the added context helps to explain their actions, but it doesn’t completely erase the pain. the burden of their responsibilities and the way they’ve neglected you come into clearer focus, but the healing process will take time and effort from all sides.

you take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the lingering hurt. “i know you were dealing with a lot,” you say quietly. “i’m dealing with the same stuff—higher-ups, never-ending missions, everything that comes with it. but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to shut me out.”

you squeeze gojo's hand gently, the firmness of your grip reflecting your resolve. “i understand that you were overwhelmed, but it didn’t excuse how you treated me. i needed you, and instead, i felt abandoned.” the words hang in the air, leaving room for reflection and a path towards healing.

they both hang their heads, their expressions marked by remorse. gojo's grip on your hand tightens, as if begging you to understand. geto’s eyes avoid yours, his guilt palpable. they both know you’re right, their previous justifications sounding hollow now.

gojo sighs heavily, his voice soft but firm. “we know we screwed up,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again. “and we're sorry. we truly are. we shouldn't have let our issues affect how we treated you. you deserve better than what we've given you.”

you take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you begin to speak. “i tried to take fewer missions because i know you both were worried. i wanted to be around more, to show you that I care. but every night... every night, when i’m in bed between you two, you turn your backs on me.”

your tears start to blur your vision, and you struggle to keep your composure. “no matter which side i turn, all i see is your backs. it felt like you were shutting me out, like I was invisible to you. i feel like i have nowhere to go, and feel more alone.”

the emotion in your voice is raw, and the tears that spill down your cheeks only deepen the weight of what you’re expressing. the room fills with the sound of your quiet sobs, adding a poignant layer to the shared moment of vulnerability.

their eyes widen as you continue, their expressions turning pained as you lay bare the depths of your hurt. gojo's grip on your hand turns almost crushing as he listens to your words, his heart clenching as he hears the anguish in your voice.

geto's face is pale, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the sight of your tears a physical manifestation of the pain they've caused. gojo's voice is rough, his eyes fixed on yours. “we didn’t think you felt that way,” he says, his voice hoarse. “we’re sorry. we were idiots.”

gojo’s other hand reaches up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away some of your tears. “please don’t cry,” he mumbles, his voice cracking as he watches you cry. geto sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on your tear-stained face. “we’ll fix this,” he promises, his voice filled with resolve.

gojo nods, his eyes soft as they roam over your face. “please, just let us make it up to you,” he says quietly, his hand still holding your cheek.

you take a shuddering breath, your voice wavering but firm. “you know how it was at home before i came to jujutsu high. i was always walking on eggshells every day. i don’t want to feel that way with you two. i love you both so much, and it hurts to feel like i’m just an afterthought.” the weight of your words hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of your vulnerability and the deep emotional connection you share.

you look at them with a mix of sadness and fear, your voice trembling. “and i feel so scared because i’ve started to think that maybe I should leave. i don’t want to, but the way things have been... it makes me wonder if staying is just going to hurt more.” the admission is heavy, your fear of leaving mingling with the pain of feeling disconnected. It’s a vulnerable moment, revealing the depth of your uncertainty and the impact their actions have had on you.

their eyes widen at your words, their expressions changing from guilt to fear. gojo’s hand tightens on your cheek, his eyes turning desperate, while geto’s hands clench into fists in his lap. gojo’s voice is strained, his eyes searching yours. “please don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, his tone pleading. “please don’t even think about leaving.”

geto scoots to the edge of the armchair, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “you don’t have to go. we can fix this, just stay.”

they know, from the moment you first got met each other and you told them they were going to go down in history as the world’s biggest idiots instead of swoon over them, that you’re not the type of person to be a pushover. they’ve always admired how you refuse to let anyone disrespect you or treat you as less than you deserve. from the beginning, they understood that once someone starts treating you badly, you’re ready to leave—no matter how much you love them—because your self-respect has always been paramount.

and now, as you stand before them, telling them that if leaving is what it takes to keep yourself at peace, you’ll take that chance and face the consequences, they can feel the weight of that truth. their admiration for your strength has always been part of what they love about you, but now that very strength threatens to take you away from them.

the fear in their eyes deepens, a reflection of the realization that they’ve pushed you to the edge, and they know you won’t hesitate to step away if it means preserving your sense of self-worth.

they sit in stunned silence for a few moments, the weight of your words sinking in. they know you well enough to know that when you say you'll leave, you'll follow through. the thought of losing you, of losing what they have, is too painful to bear.

geto breaks the silence first, his voice soft but filled with an edge of desperation. “you don’t have to leave. we can fix this.” gojo nods frantically, his hand on your cheek holding you more firmly now. “please, don’t talk about leaving,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room as they hold onto you, their desperation clear. “i did think about leaving,” you admit, your voice is soft but steady. “but it was just for a second because i can’t bear the thought of living without you two. i love you both too much, and that’s why i’m here, willing to talk.”

their grip on you tightens slightly, a mix of relief and guilt washing over their faces. geto’s shoulders relax a little, and gojo’s eyes soften as he hears your words. “i don’t want to lose you,” you continue, “but i need to know that things are going to change. i need to feel like i matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

they both nod slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. their hands remain firmly on you, desperate to maintain whatever connection they still have with you.

gojo’s eyes are filled with remorse, his voice soft. “you matter to us,” he says quietly, “so much more than you ever realize. we’ve been idiots. we took you for granted, and we didn’t give you the attention and care you deserve. that ends now.”

geto nods, his expression taut. “we’ll do better,” he says firmly, his voice filled with determination.

they both hold onto you tightly, as if trying to convey the depth of their feelings through touch alone. gojo’s eyes are fixed on yours, his expression filled with remorse. “we’ve been so focused on our own problems that we neglected you,” he mutters, his voice soft. “that won’t happen again. we swear it.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand reaching out to hold your other cheek softly. “we were stupid,” he says bluntly. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you were almost gone.”

you intertwine your hands with theirs, holding onto them firmly as you look into their eyes. “i’m not going to apologize for how i acted this past week,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “i was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, to make you feel the effects of your actions. but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you both so much.”

they both nod, their eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. they know you're right, that you don't owe them any apologies. they have hurt you, and they know it's up to them to make amends.

gojo speaks first, his voice soft but firm. “we don’t expect you to apologize,” he says, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. “we deserve what we got. you had every right to react the way you did.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we were selfish, careless,” he murmurs. “we’re sorry.” you smile softly at them, feeling the weight of their remorse in the way they hold onto you. “i don’t mind you prioritizing your work,” you say gently, your fingers tightening around theirs. “you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerers, and people rely on you. it’s your responsibility, and i understand that. i just don’t want you to turn your backs on me again.”

their expressions reflect the truth of your words. they know the demands of their profession, and they know they'll always be expected to prioritize their work. but they also know they messed up by neglecting you in the process.

gojo’s eyes stay fixed on yours, his voice low. “we won’t let that happen again,” he promises, his hand gently squeezing your cheek. “we’re going to find a way to balance our responsibilities and give you the attention you deserve.”

you lean your side against gojo's chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his body. with your hands still intertwined with theirs on your lap, you look up at them, your voice gentle but firm. “please, just talk to me when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed or anything,” you ask, your eyes searching theirs for understanding. “i’m here for you, and i want to help. but i can’t if you shut me out.”

gojo wraps his arm around you as you lean against him, his eyes softening as he listens to your words. geto nods in agreement, his grip on your hand gentle but firm.

gojo’s voice is soft, filled with a hint of guilt. “we know,” he says quietly. “we were wrong to shut you out. we promise we’ll communicate better from now on.” geto’s expression is taut but sincere. “we’ll talk to you when we’re struggling, and we’ll make sure you’re still a priority.”

you smile softly at them, a sense of relief washing over you as you feel the sincerity in their words. “thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “thank you for trying to sort things out instead of just letting it be.”

they both look at you, their eyes filled with a mix of guilt and love. gojo’s arm tightens around you, holding you closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your hand in his. gojo nods, his expression firm. “you’re too important to us to let things fall apart like this.”

geto's voice is soft but determined. “we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right again.”

they sit with you in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the air filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken emotions. gojo's hold on you remains firm, his broad chest firm and warm against your side, while geto's hand gently intertwines your fingers with his.

finally, gojo speaks, his voice soft. “can you promise us something?”

you hum softly in response, your curiosity piqued by gojo’s gentle tone. you glance up at him, waiting for what he has to say, still feeling the warmth of their touch grounding you.

gojo's eyes meet yours, his gaze unusually serious. “promise us that you won’t shut us out either,” he says quietly. geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we want to know when you’re not okay,” he adds, his voice firm but gentle. “we don’t want a repeat of this week. we don’t want you to feel like you have nowhere to go.”

you nod softly, feeling the sincerity in their words. “okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. the promise settles between you all, a silent understanding that things will be different moving forward. the weight of the past week begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewed connection.

they both nod at your response, a visible relief washed over them. gojo's grip on you tightens again, his arm holding you even closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your fingers in his.

they both watch you for a few moments, their gazes filled with a mixture of love and newfound determination. they can feel the shift in the air between you, and finally, gojo speaks again, his voice quiet.

“can we ask you something?”

gojo smiles faintly, the sight of your smile melting away some of the tension in his own face. he glances at geto, who nods slightly, before returning his attention to you. “can we sleep with you tonight?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere. “we miss you.”

you playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “of course,” you say softly, “i miss you too.”

they both exhale a sigh of relief, their expressions relaxing instantly. gojo’s arm squeezes you again, his body pressing against you firmly. geto’s grip on your fingers tightens slightly as his eyes linger on your face.

gojo’s voice is low, the relief clear in every syllable. “thank god,” he mutters, his voice heavy but filled with something soft and sincere.

geto nods slightly, his eyes meeting gojo’s for a moment before he turns his gaze back to you. “we missed holding you,” he says quietly, his voice equally as sincere. you look at geto, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. geto’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the lingering guilt. “come here,” you say softly. when you tell him to come closer, he moves to kneel between your legs, his expression still marked by regret.

as you slip his long hair behind his ear, your touch is gentle and reassuring. “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “i know you care deeply, and that’s why this hurts. but you’re not alone in this.”

geto's shoulders slump at your words, the weight of his guilt visibly lessening. his eyes stay fixed on yours, the regret in them slowly being replaced by a soft vulnerability.

he leans into your touch, his head tilting slightly involuntarily at the touch of your fingers to his hair. “i know,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with guilt. “i just wish i hadn't let it get this bad.” geto’s voice is soft, the regret and guilt audible in it. “i just… i just can’t forgive myself for causing you pain,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

you give him a reassuring smile, your voice gentle. “i’m not in pain anymore, so you can stop feeling guilty,” you say softly. “we’ve talked things out, and we’re moving forward. it’s okay to let go of that guilt now. we’re okay.”

geto’s eyes search yours, the guilt still visible but diminishing by the second. he nods slowly, his expression taut but hopeful. he speaks softly, his voice still laced slightly with regret. “i know. but i just… it’s hard to shake this feeling, you know? it’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen.”

you lean down and gently kiss his chest, then move to his neck and jaw, your touch tender and soothing. each kiss is a silent reassurance, conveying that you're okay now and that you're not mad at him anymore. your actions are meant to comfort and ease the lingering regret he feels, showing him through your touch that things are healing.

his breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his chest, his body tensing for a brief moment before melting into your touch. each press of your lips sends waves of comfort through him, the knot in his chest loosening with every gentle kiss.

he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unyielding. when your lips reach his jaw, he tilts his head to give you better access, his eyes fluttering shut. you pull away slightly, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. you look into his eyes with a soft, reassuring gaze. “don’t feel guilty anymore,” you say gently. “we’re okay. let go of that weight you’re carrying. we’re moving forward together.”

his eyes open slowly, meeting yours. the guilt in his eyes has lessened even more, replaced by a deep vulnerability and newfound trust. he nods slowly, his hands gently pulling you even closer to him.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sincere. “i’m trying, i promise,” he murmurs. “i’m trying to let it go. it’s just… it’s just hard, sometimes.”

“shut up, stop it,” you softly murmur. you gently move your hands from his shoulders to his neck, guiding him closer. “come here,” you whisper softly, pulling him towards you until your lips touch his.

he smiles faintly at your soft command, his body willingly moved closer to yours. he doesn’t protest when you gently pull him closer, his eyes closing instinctively as your lips meet his.

the kiss starts slow and hesitant, his body tense against yours as if he’s expecting you to pull away at any second. but gradually, his lips soften, the tension in his body melting away as he surrenders to the tender connection. as geto continues to lean towards you, your back gently presses against gojo’s firm chest. gojo's arms instinctively wrap around you from behind, his presence a comforting anchor as you and geto share a tender kiss. the closeness between all three of you creates a cocoon of warmth and reassurance.

[httpsleclerc]

the story of us: chapter 3

pairings: Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader, Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader

summary: you run into a ghost from your past, and take the biggest step possible to prove him wrong about what he thinks of you.

c/w: baby trapping, mentions of domestic abuse and violence, mentions of child abuse, verbal abuse from a spouse, idk if its a warning but its mentioned that the reader is breastfeeding?? although it is implied in other parts!

word count: 4.3k (she's a hefty one x)

a/n: here she is!! the third chapter that's somehow 4300 words exactly!! as always, feedback is always appreciated!!

series masterlist // main masterlist

Lukas watched you from the Red Bull garage, his eyes narrowed as he watched your brother's friend, Charles, place his hands on the curve of your stomach, feeling as your daughter kicked against his palms. He didn't like Charles, he saw the way that he looked at you, like you could be his, but that's what the ever growing bump of your stomach showed - You couldn't be his, and even if it meant giving you another baby to make sure that he took the hint, then that's what Lukas would do. He put his anger aside, shaking himself of it as he put on the happy boyfriend act, smiling politely as he made his way over to you, protectively placing his hand over your belly, where Charles' hand had previously lingered.

"Hi," You smiled up at your boyfriend, humming as he dipped down to press a small kiss to your lips. In the past 8 months, Lukas had successfully managed to convince both you and your brother that he had completely changed - Although he knew he hadn't and wouldn't; You made it so easy, he had previously laughed at you, telling you that the way your father had treated you as a child was a result of how trusting you were. In an effort to convince you of his change of ways, he had apologised for what he had said, claiming that he was just angry at your so called father for how he had treated you. "This is Max's um...friend? Charles." You introduced him to the Monegasque, who eyed him carefully.

Charles had heard the tales from Max of how Lukas had previously treated of you, of how he had one time hit you so hard, that you ended up with concussion. He told him of how he didn't let you speak to him or Victoria, that he looked through your phone to block their numbers and that you could only talk to them if you had happened to bump into either of them. Charles had been heartbroken to hear that even if Max had managed to escape the cycle of abuse that his father had put him through, it appeared that you hadn't - Ever since you had started dating, every boyfriend had treated you horribly, you were trapped in the cycle of abuse, and it was clear that Lukas' abusive and controlling behaviour had no intention of letting you go.

"Hi, you must be Y/N's boyfriend," Charles remained friendly despite Lukas' silent hostility towards him. "Congratulations on the baby, Y/N was just telling me how excited she is to be a mother." He smiled back at you, he could never tell you how uneasy he felt around your boyfriend, but would definitely tell Max. Looking at Charles, Lukas huffed, rolling his eyes at the Monegasque.

"Yeah, thanks. She's going to be a great mother to our little ones, right Y/N?" He grinned at Charles, whose smile fell as you simply hummed and nodded. He remembered how as a child you wanted to be a doctor, but your dad had all but beaten the passion for anything out of you - Charles knew how incredibly smart you were, he hated to see all of your potential go to waste as a result of being forced to bare and raise this man's children. Again, this was something that he could ever say to you out loud, since you appeared to be so content at the thought of doing so. "Anyway, we should get you to sit down, love. Don't want you going into labour this early. See you later, Charles."

"But-"

"No buts, Y/N. Go and sit down." Lukas' tone was harsh, and it was dark. Charles could see you shrink into yourself as much as you could, breaking his heart as he realised that even now you were 21, you were still the same little girl's who's father would both verbally and physically harm her, with no one to help her. 

Charles was certain he would help you out of this, even if it was just providing an ear for you, for someone you could talk to.

If only he'd known that this was a rare outing for you, Lukas had convinced you that you would be better off in the safety of your shared apartment, that you and your baby would be the best protected in there.

You groaned as you woke up, the Monte Carlo sun streaming through the curtains of your room. You were thankful to Max and Kelly, they had made sure that the room felt like a safe space for you and Romy, and it did, which you could prove by how settled your daughter was in the space. Rolling over, you sighed in relief as you saw your baby still fast asleep, luckily, she had only woken up to be fed once during the night. Sliding into your slippers and pulling one of Max's hoodies on, you made your way out to the living room, gently closing the door behind you as not to disturb your sleeping baby.

"Auntie Y/N!" Penelope cheered happily, running to greet you excitedly. 

"P, you have to be quiet, Romy is still asleep," Kelly gently told her off, shooting you a sorry look for the noise that she was making.

"But I'm so excited to see auntie Y/N,' The girl pouted at her mother, making you smile as you bent down to pick her up, holding her at her hip. "I'm so happy you and Romy live here with me and mama and Maxie now." You smiled, you had told her when you first met her that you used to call your brother Maxie as a way to annoy him, but now when Max heard either you or Penelope call him Maxie, it made him happy. 

"Well me and Romy are so happy to live here with you, and your mama and Maxie too. Sometimes you just need to listen to your mama so you don't wake up Romy and she's crying, then you can't hear your cartoons," You told her, pushing the hair away from her face as she nodded. Kelly smiled at the interaction between you and her daughter, she had always told Max that you would make a great mother, the two of them had just wished you had become one under better circumstances and with a better man.

Maybe a man like Charles, would have been better.

You made your way around the kitchen, Penelope still in your arms as you made tea for you and Kelly, before placing her down on her feet and setting her off to go and sit with her mother. She smiled thankfully as she took the warm mug from your hands, holding it in her down as Penelope settled beside her.

"Before you ask, they never actually settle," You both laughed at how hyperactive Penelope appeared to be, she certainly had the DNA of a racing driver in her. "So, I was thinking. If you're open to it, maybe you could have Max baby sit Romy and Penelope and you and I could have a girls day together?" Kelly suggested. You thought about it, you had never left your daughter with anyone, you had never even left her alone with Lukas - But the more you thought about it, the more you realised that your brother would never intentionally do anything to harm your daughter, he loved Romy, so why would he hurt her?

Lukas said he loved you and he hurt you.

You gently shook your head of the thought. Letting out a deep sigh, you realised that maybe you did need your hair done, and maybe your nails could benefit from a pretty red shade, maybe Ferrari red, for your favourite driver of course-

Wait.

No.

Max was your favourite driver, of course your brother was your favourite driver. Why would it be Charles? You were a Red Bull fan, it was the team that gave your brother his biggest successes and clearly made him so happy. Red Bull didn't have Charles though. 

"Yeah, that sounds nice," You nodded and smiled at the suggestion, trying to shake your head of the thoughts of Charles that plagued your mind. "At least I know that she won't be fussy, she loves Max so much." You told Kelly, who hummed in agreement as she nodded.

"He's great with P too, but Romy loves him," She agreed with you. You giggled as you nudged her gently, watching as she blushed. "What?"

"You know what I'm gonna say," You grinned, watching as Kelly adamantly shook her head. "Max would be such a good dad, you did say that he's great with P and Romy. Not like it would be hard from what we had as kids," She smiled sadly at the last part of your sentence, even with Max, it broke her heart to hear how normalised abuse was for you and Max as children.

"Not for a while, at least. And anyway, I'm pretty sure that you're thinking the same about Charles, right? You see how much Romy loves him and how good he is with her, you think that your baby's a good judge of character and normally you're right," You watched in amazement, Kelly had read your mind of the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind since your second meeting with Charles.

"You are scarily good at that."

Lukas watched as your face contorted in pain, sweat beading on your forehead as another contraction gripped you, each one more painful than the next. His hand rested gently on your back, rubbing small circles as you cried out in pain. He smiled maliciously, he had isolated you so much that you had no one to cry out for - but he supposed that he could thank your mother and father for that, your mother for making you feel unwanted, and your father for his overall abusive nature.

He did have to hand it to himself, he was a mastermind - He had successfully convinced you that Max and Victoria weren't happy for you, and that now, all you needed was him and your daughter. He had you as vulnerable as he could ever see you, completely dependent on him for everything in this moment.

"Lukas, I want Vic here," You cried for your older sister, even though Lukas had convinced you that she was jealous of you, despite having 3 kids of her own. He shook his head as he rested his forehead on your own, looking you in the eyes as he tried to soothe you.

"No, love, you're okay, I'm right here, I'm all that you need," He whispered, watching as you whined in pain, whimpering in pain as another contraction gripped you. "You're doing so well. Bringing our girl into the world, just like you should." He spoke the last part to himself, already planning how soon he was going to give you another baby. Maybe 6 weeks after would be too quick, raise too many eyebrows at how quickly you'd fallen pregnant again. For you, it felt like hours before doctors and midwives flooded into your room, telling you when to push, all while Lukas stood at your side, holding your hand as you squeezed his with every push.

And finally, your daughter made her entrance into the world with a piercing wail, the doctors rushing to lift her from between your legs and onto your chest as she continued wailing. Instinctively, you gently stroked her small face as to try and soothe her, whispering soothing words to her in Dutch.

Lukas watched, a grin on his face as he realised that he well and truly had you trapped now. Convincing you to stay with him had been easier, but convincing you to keep your baby had been a bit tougher, you claimed that you still wanted to go to University and get a degree and start a career - But he knew how to get his way. He had planted the seeds of being a stay-at-home mom in your head, telling you of how staying at home with your daughter would be much more fulfilling than any degree or career would ever be, and anyway, it was his job to provide for the two of you, so long as you made sure that Romy was looked after and the house was clean. He realised he had gotten everything that he wanted, you were his now.

You looked into your daughter's eyes, yours softening as her cries quieted, recognising you as her mother and the familiarity of the comfort that you provided. Watching this interaction, Lukas knew that now, you were in no position to leave - Your brain had been through so much in the past 9 months with your hormones being all over the place, your maternal instincts became stronger, and now he could see it.

"You did such a good job, love," He placed his hand on your back, watching as you remained completely enamoured with your daughter, as if you were entranced by her. "She's beautiful, just like you." You smiled as you looked up at him.

"Thank you for giving her to me, I love you," You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he smiled as he realised just how far you had fallen into his trap. He was certain that you would never leave now.

You and Kelly had truly done some damage on Max's card, the bags on both of your arms had proved that at the end of the month, your brother would be paying off a hefty credit card bill. Yet again, he had told the two of you to treat yourselves to something nice, maybe he should have been more specific in what he meant by something. You were happy that Kelly had suggested a girls afternoon, you hadn't had much time for looking after yourself since you had Romy, any time you needed to get your hair done you trimmed your ends yourself before putting yet another box dye over it.

But now, you felt good about yourself. And if your brother had anything to say about it, you knew he would fold against your puppy eyes, you had played him with those for years to get what you wanted - Even if it was just his attention. Everyone knew that Max was practically incapable of being mad at this baby sister, especially after everything that you had been through.

The two of you laughed as you walked through the streets of Monte Carlo, the 3 mimosas that you had with lunch had dampened down your anxiety about being in such a crowded open space - You had insisted on having more, but Kelly had cut you off before you started getting drunk. However, you quickly sobered up as you noticed the familiar face coming towards you.

Lukas.

Kelly looked back, noticing how you had stopped in your tracks as your ex boyfriend made your way towards the two of you. She made her way back to you before Lukas could, taking a hold of your hand to provide you with at least some support. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as he made his way towards you, grabbing your arm tightly as he got in your face.

"I see that you've already moved on," He snarled, up close and personal to you. "You know I'm the only one who can look after you, the two of you. What can Charles give you that I can't hm? I told you that he was bad news, he's only going to hurt you and Romy - You know that I'll keep you safe." He almost smiled at the fear in your eyes, tightening the grip on your arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

"No, you just hurt me, Lukas, and I'm not going to let you hurt Romy the same way that you hurt me. She's just a baby," You told him, trying to uphold your confident facade. "Charles is just a friend, and even then, he is more involved with our daughter than you ever were." You narrowed your eyes, pulling your arm out of his grip.

"You'll come crawling back to me, Y/N. You always come crawling back," You ignored him as you walked away, Kelly rubbing your back as you kept your vision focused on what was in front of you, despite your vision blurring with tears. You stumbled into a quiet alley, your resolve dissolving as you broke down into tears in her arms. 

"You did so well, Y/N, you were so brave," She told you, trying her best to try and comfort you. Even if for some reason you didn't believe her, she was telling you the truth - If she was being honest, she was expecting you to have burst into tears in the face of Lukas. "He doesn't deserve you and Romy, and I know that it's hard doing it on your own, but you know that you and have me and that you have Max...I'm sure that if you asked, Charles would love to spend time with Romy." You sniffled, rubbing your nose as you looked up at Kelly.

"I don't know why he still wants to be involved with me, I just want him to leave me and Romy alone," You hiccuped, wiping your eyes of tears and you tried to pull yourself together. "He never wanted anything to do with her and he only wants to be involved with her now to try and get me back. I'm not falling for it again Kelly." You told her confidently, sure of yourself that this time you wouldn't go back to him, you were determined to prove him wrong.

"I know, you know my parents used to bring me and my brothers here? I thought that maybe it could be something we could do with Romy," He said, only to stumble over his words as you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "Nono, I-I didn't mean like a date or anything like that...not that I don't want something like that with you! I think you're really pretty and Romy is the most perfect little girl and-...I am making a fool of myself, aren't I?" He held his head in hands, his cheeks heating up as he realised how much he had been rambling.

You giggled, placing your free hand on Charles' back as a means to try and comfort him. He looked up at you, a blush creeping over his cheeks as he made eye contact with you.

Your fingers hovered over the call button on your phone, Romy lay on your chest, sound asleep after her last feed. She was apparently exhausted after spending the day with her uncle Max and Penelope, you wished that you could live the life that your 7 month-old did; She woke up, had breakfast, fell asleep, woke up, had a feed, played for a bit, fell asleep again until she had dinner, had a bath and then went to sleep and repeated the day again all over the next. 

With a hand resting on her small back, you bit the bullet, pressing the call button on Charles' contact. It only took a couple rings, almost as if he had been anticipating your call.

"Y/N! Hi, how are you? How is Romy?" You smiled at his gleeful tone, and his immediate concern for both you and your daughter. 

"Hi Charles, we're fine, I um...I was out with Kelly earlier today so Max was in charge of P and Romy, surprisingly they're both still in one piece," You laughed, rubbing your hand up and down Romy's small back as she let out a small whimper. "So..I was thinking about what you said, about you thinking that I'm really pretty and whatever." You trailed off as nerves grew in your stomach.

"Oh, I am so sorry about that, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Cherie," You could tell from his bashful tone that he was embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed or-or even upset!"

"Charles!" You giggled, cutting him off before he could ramble further. "I just called to see if you wanted to go out to dinner one night, just the two of us." You offered him, the silence on the other end suffocating enough to make you feel as though you had just made the biggest fool of yourself.

"I would love that, when are you free?" 

"Charles, I'm basically a stay at home mum, I'm free any time I can get someone to watch Romy," You smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "What about Tuesday?" 

"Yes, I am free on Tuesday, I will make us a reservation. I'll see you then cherie."

"Yeah, I'll see you then Charles."

You hung up, with a giddy smile on your face. You were sure that your newfound confidence had something to do with proving Lukas, and for a matter of fact, everyone else wrong. Everyone had you down as being in a constant cycle of abusive relationships - well now, you were about to try and prove them wrong. You sighed, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders, and you placed a small kiss on the crown of your daughter's head, gently placing her into the cot beside your bed.

You could barely contain your excitement as you walked out into the living room, causing Max to raise and eyebrow and Kelly to give you a knowing look.

"What's got you so excited, kleine zusje?" Max asked, furrowing his eyebrows at you as he took in your excited nature. You giggled as you ran over to the couch, once again settling yourself between him and Kelly.

He laughed yet found it endearing, for most of your childhood, Max had taken care of you, he had been the one to clean up the cuts which your father caused as a result of the beatings you endured; And here he was now, making sure that both you and your daughter were looked after. He would never complain, and was grateful for the relationship that you shared with Kelly, he was happy that he was with someone who was able to realise how much his baby sister had been through and not try to force a relationship with you. She had worked on building your relationship, not forcing you into doing things that you weren't comfortable with.

"So, I have a date on Tuesday," You told them, a wide smile on your face. Both Max and Kelly knew who it was with, but wanted to hear it from you on your own accord. "...It's with Charles. So could I ask you guys to maybe watch Romy that night?" You asked them timidly, you didn't know why you felt so guilty asking them to babysit your daughter, for one night for at most, 4 hours.

"Of course we will."

You let out a deep breath as you looked in the mirror, moving your freshly curled hair away from your face as you did a last once-more over your makeup. You adjusted your dress the best that you could, in your slow but steady weaning of Romy, your boobs had become significantly bigger once more, so the dress that you had bought the week before had become tighter around your chest.

"Knock Knock," You turned around to look at the door of your room, smiling as you saw Kelly making her way into your bedroom. "Oh, you look beautiful, Y/N." She smiled at you, standing behind you.

"Thanks, my dress feels really tight but I guess that's what I get for deciding to wean a breastfed baby 1 week before I end up going on a date," You joked, pulling your dress up once more to try and cover more of your chest. 

"Well, either way, you look beautiful, you're gonna blow Charles away with how stunning you look," She smiled at you, almost with tears in her eyes. "So, Romy is settled, Penelope is sitting ready for her to wake up so she can play blocks with her." 

"Of course she is, at least we know that they're going to get along," The two of you laughed, as you stood up and put your jacket on. "Well, I should get going, I think Charles is outside." The two of you left your bedroom, luckily for you, Max was occupied with your daughter so that he wouldn't see your outfit, otherwise he would have gone incredibly big brother on you. You said goodbye to Kelly and headed down the stairs, where Charles waited for you in the lobby, a lily in his hand as he waited for you.

"Oh, wow, you look absolutely beautiful, Cherie," He greeted you, kissing each side of your face, and smiling as you unashamedly blushed.

"Thank you, Charles. You look so handsome," You still blushed, but smiled up at him as he offered his arm out to you, which you happily linked. "So, where are we going?" You asked him, tilting your head as you smiled.

"Well, I wasn't entirely sure what you liked, but I remember you said when we were kids that you liked pasta, so I thought that we could go to this Italian that my maman loves, I think that you'll really like it." He opened the door of his Ferrari, offering you his hand to help you down into the super car before getting in himself.

And suddenly, all of the nerves in your stomach disappeared, and now you just had to see how the night went.

Taglist - Currently Closed as I ican't get it to work :(((

[nymphoniah]

Hiiii! May i request training/working out/ sparring (idk😭) with logan and it ends up with us dry humping or something pretty please will all the cherries :)

indulgent desires | logan howlett

pairing: boyfriend!logan x afab!reader

AN: omg your mind... i know for a fact that logan is an absolute menace when it comes to working out. like have you seen his arms? i need to be squished to death by his biceps. they're just so!!! omg!!! you know that man loves hitting his arms.

written with xmen/x2 logan in mind, but honestly can be applied to any other ver. of him! (for once i'm not writing with old man!logan in mind? am i really me?)

content/tags: minors DNI (18+ only), dry humping, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc.), porn with a little bit of plot, cum tasting/eating/facial, hair pulling, teasing

logan practically spends every day at the gym. he always prided himself on his physique, not just for self-fulfilling reasons, but for the mere fact that he knows that his body riles you up.

he can tell when you would "sneak" glances at him, especially when he gets a pump right after his workouts. the way his muscles swelled after working out made you lust for him harder.

you could tell he hit his arms today; his biceps were more defined than usual, with your eyes tracing a thick vein that flows down his forearm. "you like what you see, princess?" he teases, flexing his arm as you continue to stare.

you blink hard and shake your head embarrassingly fast. "whatever, logan!" you shout, continuing whatever workout you were doing, losing track of how many reps you did.

you would tag along with him every so often, but only because he would take hours at a time at the gym. sure, you liked going to the gym, you had to stay fit somehow, but you lacked the stamina logan had; the frequency and duration of his gym sessions were unbearable for a poor little thing like you.

and logan acknowledged this, as he would often end his sessions a bit shorter so the two of you could go home sooner. you felt like a bother, and the last thing you wanted to do was interfere with his workouts.

"fuuuuck, im tired," you exhale, leaning forward, hands gripping at your knees as you try to catch your breath. pushing through your last set of bulgarian split squats had you absolutely winded. logan placed his firm hand on the small of your back, gently rubbing circles against your skin.

"let's go home, bub" he lulled, passing you his water bottle to drink from. nodding at him, you take a long swig, and the ice cold water rejuvenates your body. "let's..." you eagerly reply.

you couldn't bare being separated from him, lounging away at home any longer, so one day, you took matters into your own hands.

eventually you had the idea to buy at-home gym equipment; it was pricy to say the least, but it didn't matter to you, for as long as logan was home.

from the comfort of your own apartment, you had the view of logan all to yourself. whenever he worked out, he wore his plain white wife beater along with a random rugged pair of gym shorts he rotated through.

you'd wake up to his grunts early in the morning, getting up at first light to use the machines splayed out in your living room. the domesticity of it all made it so the early mornings never bothered you, as well as the occasional tsss or oomph he'd let out as he finished a rep.

and just like before, you'd join him. you had bought a yoga mat to do your stretches before your workout. even got one for logan, but he keenly insists on using yours.

this morning you had spot him on seated on the mat, legs stretched out. he splayed his torso out between his thighs, letting out a grunt as he felt his muscles pull as he reached forward.

a yawn leaves his mouth as he returns to an upright position. he glances over to his right to spot you sitting at the dining table, sipping from your mug, eyes focused on him.

when finished with his usual routine, he follows up with a couple of stretches afterwards to cooldown. his arms were thicker, more defined than usual. arms, you thought to yourself. he hit his arms, again.

“morning, sweetheart,” he chirps as a lazy grin slowly wipes across his face. he reaches his hand out, signaling for you to come over.

and so you do, sitting alongside him on the mat, slotting yourself between his legs. you rest your hands on his thick shoulders, tugging at the straps of his tank top.

he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “stretch with me, darlin,” he hums against your temple.

“i’d rather watch you,” you reply, playfully pushing him away. you’re about to return to your spot at the dining table before he snakes his arms around your waist, holding you in place.

“no, no, we gotta get you movin’, doll.” and oh how logan has a way of convincing you. just a simple pet name, and he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

he taps your hips, motioning for you to turn around, and you oblige. with a swift movement, your back is now pressed against his chest, your legs encaged by his own.

you could already feel that his dick was hard, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. logan had morning wood pretty frequently, and would often work out to relieve it, as he felt guilty if he were to wake you up so early in the morning.

but this time, it was different. watching you prance around the kitchen in those shorts that barely cover your ass, wearing a skin tight camisole that put your hardened nipples on display. how could he not get hard—or rather, not keep his hard-on for a pretty little thing like you?

logan rests his head on your shoulder, leaning close to your ear. “c’mon, get started already.” he whispers, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

and so you mimic the stretch he was doing earlier. you lean forwards, making your ass push into his crotch. the pads of his rough fingertips remain at your waist, gripping at your skin to bring you closer. you continue to lean forwards, and your back is now parallel with your legs on the mat.

his hands creep their way to the small of your back. “there you go, doll. just like that,” he lulls, tracing delicate circles where your back arches. logan shifts in place, now kneeling behind you as you remain spread out for him on the floor.

you attempt to rise from your position to sit upright, but a firm hand is planted on your back, keeping you in place. "y'look so pretty for me like this," logan teases, his calloused palm now slipping underneath your tank top.

his hands run up to caress your shoulder blades, pushing the straps of your tank top down swiftly. your tits were now exposed to the crisp, cool air, your nubs now even harder than before.

“logan…” you whine as his left hand keeps you in place, while the other roams to paw at your tits. you continue to moan out his name while he works at you, paying sweet attention to the way your breath hitches as he gently tugs at your swollen nubs.

“couldn’t help it darlin’,” he lulls, “how can i ignore a pretty little thing like you?” his hands move their way from your breasts to your hips. tugging at your legs, he manhandles you so you’re now prone on the yoga mat.

logan is still seated beside you, calloused hand now working at the globes of your ass, jiggling one your cheeks in the thick palm of his hands. “you got me so fuckin’ hard, baby…” he hisses, his free hand palming his erection through his shorts.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the flesh of your ass, admiring how pretty you look spread for him. his face lingers for a second as he catches a whiff of your arousal pooling in your cunt.

“can smell how bad you need me, doll.” logan utters under his breath. “don’t worry, i’m gonna fill you right up…” you lazily turn your head around to catch a glimpse of the smirk forming on his face, and you flash him a coquettish smile of your own.

“ass up, princess,” he commands, pushing on the small of your back. and you obey, arching your back so that your ass is presented to him, your lacy panties peeking through your shorts.

“fuck.” he coos, molding your ass in the palm of his hand. logan is tempted to pop his claws out to rip the fabric, but the last time he did, you complained about him ruining your favorite pair of sleep shorts, so he refrains from doing so.

so he decides on something else. pushing his shorts down, logan remains in his boxers, his oh-so needy cock forming a tent in the tight fabric.

you feel him shifting around you, seating himself so he’s on his knees, his cock parallel to your ass. you try to push back to feel any friction against your needy cunt, but he keeps a firm grip on your hips, keeping you still.

“please, need you so bad,” you whine, attempting to wiggle your way out of his grip, but knowing him, knowing his strength, it’s useless to even try.

“you’re gonna have to wait for it, sweetheart,” he says cockily, pressing his pelvis against your clothed cunt, and the both of you hiss out in pain.

logan began to rut his cock against you at a steady pace, angling his hips to that the tip of his cock just about grazed over your clit.

“stop teasin’,” you purr, arching your back to try and get any more friction, but it’s no use. logan reaches over and presses your head into the yoga mat, your cheek squished against the foam.

“you get what i give you, princess.” he grunts, pushing your head further into the mat as his hips move faster, pressing harder into your ass. “gonna use you first, then i’ll stuff you with my cock.”

his hips sputter as he feels the way you bounce your ass against him, your bodies moving in sync, his thrusts matching the way you rut back into him. “fuck, you got me worked up doll, prancing around the house like that…”

you couldn’t respond to his words, only grunt in response. the pressure building in your core was too much, making your mind hazy. all you managed to let out was a little mmh.

“walkin’ around with your tits on display, actin’ all innocent,” he drones on, continuing to pound his hips against yours. he fists a section of your hair, tugging harshly so your face now meets his.

“the things you do to me, doll…” logan mutters, leaning over to give you a hungry kiss. your entangled your tongues sloppily, moaning into each others mouths.

he pulls away from the kiss hastily, and a thin strand of your saliva mixed with his pools from your bottom lip. you look fucked out already, and he’s only been dry humping you.

“dirty little thing,” logan teases, pressing a finger against your clothed cunt as he continues his thrusts. you feel yourself getting close, your panties were drenched with your own arousal.

the way your ass rippled with every thrust of his hips, combined with how wet you were getting from this sent logan into a spiral.

his movements became more erratic, his strained dick begging to be released from the confines of his boxers. he began to rub tight circles on your clit, pushing you further to your limit.

“gonna come soon, baby,” he grunts out, and you moan in response. “where do you want me, darlin’?”

spit dribbles out of your mouth as he continues his relentless attack on your ass, his hips pistoning as fast as he could manage. “o-on my face…” you barely manage to whimper out

and so his thrusts pause, and he manhandles you, now flipping you onto your back. he hastily pushes his boxers down, his cock springing back in protest against his stomach.

your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock, his hands pumping him at a rapid pace, precum leaking all over his abs.

he hovers himself over your face, his knees caging your head. as he angled his cock at your mouth, he continued fisting himself vigorously. “gonna take my cum like a good girl?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. you nod your head yes, but this isn’t enough for logan.

“words, princess.” he quips, feeling himself close to his release.

“‘m gonna take it like a good girl, i promise lo” you whine, locking your eyes with his, your pupils blown with lust.

“‘atta girl…”

and after a couple more pumps of his dick, thick ropes of his cum coat your face. he’s spurting out more than you imagined—he was really fucking pent up. who would’ve thought that a sweet little thing like you had that much of an effect on him?

after he milked himself of all of his cum, he rolls over to your side. he glances over at you and wipes the mess off near your eyes. you chuckle a bit, licking off the cum that got on your lips.

you lean over and pull logan into a short kiss, allowing him to taste himself on your lips. “fuckin’ hell,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your nose. he sits up, looking around the kitchen for a spare towel to clean you up.

“soo… does this count as our warm up for today?” you ask cheekily, propping yourself up on your elbow as you watch him pace around the kitchen.

“shut up, kid…” logan replies, groaning at your attempt joke.

[lay-z]

Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

[zorosangell]

I LOVE INN!!! I love devoted pathetic men! I need to see them during the time skip tho! What if during the two year training arc (idk who or what she trains under, you can make that up) she happens to stop by the same island zoro and mihawk where stopping by on their way back to Gloom island. It’s been well over a year since they’ve seen each other, and it’s been pure torture for them both (and also the inconvenience of zoro relearning how to properly shine his own swords and fold his laundry the special way he likes it). I’d like to see your take on this!

⛥ﾟ・。 bento

synopsis: part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader's a cutie, fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i love writing zoro like this

"Hey, gramps," Zoro started, yanking open the flap and entering Isamu's Fresh Fish tent, his eye snapping over to the old man hunched in the corner. "I'm lookin' to do some fishing."

Confused, Old Man Isamu halted his movement, looking up from his basket of lures to find the infamous, three-sword wielding pirate hunter.

Roronoa Zoro.

Of course, being a lonely old man who lived on the outskirts of Sabaody Archipelago, he had no idea who he was.

I mean, why would he need to know?

But even still, he couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine at the sight of the moss-head's scowl, its intensity sending a slight pang of fear through the man's old heart.

"No offense, young man, but I wouldn't exactly peg you as the fishing type..."

Zoro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Normally, you'd be right... I'm supposed to be meeting some friends on this island, but they haven't made it yet, so I'm bored out of my skull."

Scratching the side of his face, he glanced out to sea, a certain sense of homesickness plaguing his chest.

"I used to have someone to do this for me... but she's not around right now. So I need something to keep me entertained while I wait."

It felt odd offering to do the fishing himself, as he could barely even remember the last time he picked up a fishing rod.

But the feeling was nothing new, as for the last two years the swordsman had been forced to take up the tasks that you had been so insistent on doing for him.

Fishing... Laundry... Shining his swords...

Even dressing his wounds, which, although Perona did for him, still didn't feel the same as when you did it.

It wasn't long before he realized how much he took you for granted, and how subpar his domestic skills were in comparison to yours.

He bristled, annoyed with the aching throb of his heart.

God, he felt pathetic...

A measly two years apart, and all of a sudden he was a ship without a rudder.

"So, you think you can help me out or not?" he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll finish getting everything we need ready and then meet you on my boat right over there," Isamu nodded with a warm smile, standing to his full height and pointing toward a small fishing boat moored to the shore. "We'll have to wait a moment, though. A young woman is supposed to be joining me."

Zoro's brow raised, intrigued.

"Young woman?" he asked, expecting some elaboration.

"Why yes! She's been fishing with me for the past two days and is just such a sweetheart!" the old man gushed. "She went into town to go grab us some lunch before we left. Said something about picking up some polishing equipment, too."

That caught the swordsman's attention.

"Polishing equipment?"

"Yeah, for swords," Isamu nodded, leaning in a little closer to the swordsman and lowering his voice. "Between you and me... I think her boyfriend's a pirate. I always catch her lookin' out at the sea, like she's waitin' for something."

He gave Zoro a pat on the back with a small chuckle, a little sorry.

"It's a shame. If I hadn't known, I would've introduced you two. Y'look like her type."

Intrigued, Zoro looked down at himself, fighting off the thunder in his chest.

'Could it be...?'

"What'd she look like?" Zoro asked, straight to the point. "About this tall? (h/l), (h/c) hair? (s/c) skin? Nice (e/c) eyes? Pretty smile?"

Quickly, he shoved his hand into his robe, hurriedly rummaging around until his fingers locked on a piece of crumbled paper.

"Like this?" he asked, hopefully, pulling out your wanted poster and holding it up for the old man to see.

He'd managed to get his hands on it when he joined Mihawk on a grocery run and found it posted up on a fruit stall.

When no one was looking, he shoved it in his pocket, and kept it with him ever since.

Sure, it was a little stalker-ish, but when it came to you he didn't really care.

"Yes! That's her!" Isamu nodded, turning to the man. "She said she's been waiting for some friends to show, too!"

Instantly, the pieces clicked, the old man suddenly realizing your relationship with the swordsman.

He was he thing you were looking out to sea for.

With a knowing smirk, he gave Zoro a slight nudge, amused.

"Oh, ho ho! You must be the fella she's been searchin' for..." he grinned, almost as a congratulations. "You're a lucky guy! She reminds me of my Emi."

With a faint roll of his eyes, Zoro sighed, trying to muffle the burn of his cheeks by turning away.

That is... until a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Hey, watch it, asshole! That bento's for the old man!" you spat, the sound of a scuffle occurring in a nearby alleyway.

'(y/n)!'

An embarrassing amount of excitement soared through his chest, a certain glimmer returning to his eye at the sound of your voice.

Springing into action, he sprinted toward the noise, quickly drawing his sword.

Whoever was on the other side of the altercation wasn't going to be standing by the end of it.

"Wait, young man!"

But Isamu was too late, as the swordsman was already at the mouth of the alley.

Bring his feet to a screeching halt, Zoro lowered himself into an offensive stance, taking a gauge of the situation as he prepped his attack.

You were standing off with a large man, who was about five times your size, huge with muscles and practically cracked out on testosterone.

An opponent like him would've sent you running for the hills two years ago.

But you stared him down with conviction, a small smirk quirking on your lips.

And without warning, you broke into a sprint, charging the man head on.

You had to calculate this just right, or you were going to get squashed like a bug.

Zoro watched with surprise as you used your running start to slide between the thug's legs, nimbly scaling his body like a tree and swirling yourself around to pull him off balance.

"The hell?!"

He tried to grab at you, but your movements were too quick and it wasn't long before you were sat right on his shoulders, your thighs locking tightly around his neck.

"Gimme back the damn bento, you bastard!"

Effortlessly, you threw around your body weight, flipping both of you over and slamming his head into the ground, creating a small crater.

But you weren't done.

With a soft grunt, and a small jerk of your legs, you twisted his neck with a sickening crack—the action sending a warm tingle through Zoro's stomach.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't find your demonstration incredibly hot.

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a chuckle, using your foot to poke the man, who was down for the count, before snatching the lunchbox back from his grasp.

"Have a nice nap," you wished, cheekily, pulling down your eyelid and sticking out your tongue.

But, when you turned your attention to the alley's exit, your eyes landed on a certain green-haired swordsman—the star of a multitude of different daydreams you'd enjoyed throughout your two years apart.

Time seemed to slow down as your eyes met, him having been staring at you since he entered the alley.

'Gods...'

He was huge, way more muscular than what he once was, and now donned a scar on his left eye, which was permanently shut.

His chest was exposed in his robe, showing off his big pecs, and his hair was still just as green and unruly as you remembered.

Lighting up like the world's brightest Christmas tree, you let out a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the lunchbox in shock.

"Zoro!" you cheesed, completely forgetting about the bento as you rushed toward him.

"(y/n)! You made it!" Zoro broke into a wide grin, utterly relieved to see you were okay.

Launching yourself into his arms, you tackled him to the ground, pulling him into you as he let out a few laughs at your enthusiasm.

"Ah! Look at you! Those muscles! That hair! You look great! I missed you!" you squealed, ecstatic to see your favorite guy in the flesh.

Though, in your excitement, you had failed to realize you were suffocating the swordsman with your breasts.

"Mished you, twoo!" he nodded, muffled, frantically patting your back. "But yer killin' me!"

Finally noticing, you quickly pulled back, flashing him a sheepish smile.

Relieved, he took in an aggressive gasp, before turning to you with his grin once again.

"That was a new special move, huh? I've never seen you do something like that before!" he asked, eagerly.

"You noticed, eh?" you raised a brow. "Yeah, it's a maneuver my master taught me back on Kibi, a martial arts island."

A proud smirk rose to your lips, having waited to tell him of your success for so long.

"It was hard work... and I got knocked on my ass a bunch... but the monks at my temple managed to beat some kung fu techniques into me," you cheesed, cheekily. "I might not be on par with you yet... but it's only a matter of time."

His eyes found yours, and the way you were looking at him made his chest roar.

You were making it a bit hard for him to focus.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddess in human form, and smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Literally and figuratively.

You had him like a hook on a line, only he didn't want to be set free.

You found his eyes, slightly confused, as his expression morphed into one you'd never seen.

"I. Love. You." he stated, firm and breathless.

Your eyes shot wide, a sharp tinge of red burning onto your cheeks.

The floodgates were opened.

There was no going back.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over two years worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by this robe and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you was on fire.

But, alas, you two were human, and air would need eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting on each other.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"I think I do," you confessed, looking up at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Fuuuuuuck...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hate to break up a touchin' moment, kids..." Old Man Isamu chimed with a knowing smirk, the two of you snapping your heads up with surprise. "But might I suggest the inn across the street?"

You both separated, for real this time, and stood up, you straightening out the wrinkles in your clothes as you glanced at the building.

Without warning, Zoro scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, forcing you to yelp in surprise as he turned around to walk across the street.

"Zoro!"

"Thanks, old man!" Zoro waved with his free-hand, unable to fight the pep in his step as his grip tightened around your thighs.

He cracked a smile, glancing at you on his shoulder with an expression Isamu could only attribute to a man in love.

"Your bento's somewhere over there, sir!" you called, limp, and horribly embarrassed as your swordsman dragged you away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, dear!" Isamu assured, waving back. "You kids be safe!"

It made his day to see two young people so utterly smitten with each other, as that seemed to be slowly becoming a rarity.

You both reminded him so much of how he and Emi used to be...

Even still, he couldn't help but dreamily sigh, watching as you two entered the inn, playfully bickering like an old, married couple.

'Ah, young love...'

[milf-harrington]

i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from. 

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner. 

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed. 

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like. 

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently. 

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament. 

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

[jhopezwrld]

please please pleaseee write jack schlossberg relationship headcanons 😩🙏 i love your fics!!

YEAA MORE JACK LETS GOOOOO

dating jack schlossberg headcanons ——

cw: idk man but it’s pg i swear (maybe pg-13 at worst)

takes pictures and videos of everything and i mean everything

just woke up and your hair is crazy? he’s taking a picture. you’re singing in the car? he’s recording it. mid hair wash in the shower? he’s taking a picture.

somewhat affectionate in public but extremely affectionate in private

if you’re out on a walk or going shopping with him, he’s got your hand in his and you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk and he’s keeping you as close to him as he can

at home he basically lives inside of your clothes with you. will sit next to you in your couch and pull your legs on top of his and rub your calves because he just loves to touch you

showers together!!! he loves the domesticity of it. you have to buy double of all of your hair care items bc he’s using them all. your conditioner doesn’t last more than a month with him staying with you

begs you to wash his hair all the time. he just loves when you play with it tbh

will happily pay for you to get your nails done just to feel them scratch his scalp

kisses all over your face when you wake up together in the morning

or he will sneak out if he wakes up before you to grab you both breakfast and coffee

loves watching you get ready for dates. he’ll sit on the edge of your bed and just admire you as you do your hair and makeup

goes to you for fashion advice all the time. he also secretly loves coordinating outfits with you

makes sure to tell you he loves you before you both go to sleep, even if you’re upset with eachother

sends you random videos of what he’s doing throughout the day

makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you

i feel like he’s just such a classic gentleman and does all the ‘gentlemanly’ things like open doors for you, pull out your chair, doesn’t let you pay for anything, all that kinda stuff

he’s really just the sweetest boyfriend ever like u cannot get any luckier

[svtsdancingqueen]

Stay with me on this one okay.

Vernon is the type of bf that when you ask him to pack your lunch while you’re running late for school/ work/ whatever you do, as you’re scrambling to get the rest of your appearance and things together, to be a little hesitant but complete the task. As you finish putting your shoes on, you see your lunch bag carefully held out by your lovely bf who’s waiting by the door as you rush out with a quick peck and a goodbye.

In your haste, you forgot to eat breakfast so you eagerly watch the time get closer and close to lunch with your eagerness only to be replaced with a mix of confusion and fear as the realization settles in that you asked VERNON to pack your lunch, AND he was unsupervised. Finally you pull out your lunch bag and blink as you process the contents in front of you.

It’s your preferred lunchable of choice with your favorite drink and a little note scribbled out in Vernon’s handwriting.

“It’s a lunchABLE - not a lunchUNABLE. Slay the day away baby.”

(Idk if this makes sense to other people but it’s like the “it’s a trash CAN - not a trash CAN’T concept)

And with what looks like a small frog at the bottom that he later protested to be a polar bear when you asked him about it. As you get home, ready to ask your boyfriend what the note that’s now sitting in your bag meant, you step in to see him flash you a gummy smile with his eyes full of hope and pure adoration from the couch.

“DID YOU LIKE IT?”

You suddenly forget all your questions as you just smile at him and nod telling him it was the best lunch ever.

As you two sit on the couch mindlessly watching tik toks together, he breaks the silence asking if he can pack your lunch every day. You’re shocked by the effect the cutesy domestic activity has on him, but agree, secretly excited for all the future combination’s and notes.

For the next 364 days, he forgets. But one day a year, he’ll remember and it’s always your favorite surprise what he’ll come up with.

——————

A/N I don’t normally write since I’m not very good at it but I had him doing something like this vividly play in my head as I was driving home and wanted to share it <3