#i just want to hug him and never let go is that too much to ask | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gifsbysimplysonia · 2 days ago

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Hola. Long rambling feedback behind the cut as well as

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

I think this is so beautiful. Anyone who is a creative knows how difficult it can be to find a muse. So for this person to inspire a twitch in Logan after YEARS? That's just a very beautiful thing.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

And this is for BOTH 1) thinking it's not ok to be into art??? OK BUT CAVEMEN CARVED INTO WALLS, SIR and 2) "you're nothing if not inspiring" *screamingggggggggggggggggggg*

The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

I love that this fits with the Logan I know, the demand on self for perfectionism and the refusal to accept anything but. But it's especially important cuz he wants to do right by YOU/HER. *swoon*

And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

Sigh. Oh Logan. Always thinking he's not worthy while he holds everyone he cares about up on pedestals. I both adore him and wanna shake him for these habits.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He gets Rogue to show him Instagram for reference photos. HOW CUTE!

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

This is soooooooooooooooo beautiful. It is just a loud beacon of what Logan's heart really is. It's also really precious that he finally produces a drawing of her that he's satisfied with which then produces ANGST in him. Cuz he can't leave it out cuz what if people see? But he doesn't want to hide it cuz what if it smudges? Watching him go back and forth about it and the STRESS shows how much it means to him not to mess it up but ALSO, I think, how much it means to him to be back drawing. As a creative who goes through the longest dry patches, when a period of productivity comes up? OH DO I WANT TO HANG ONTO IT. And probably try so hard that I make it slip through my fingers.

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. He could give it to you.

DO IT LOGANNNNNNNN!

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing?

YOU care, sir! And people who love you will SEE that and care too!!! Don't we all wish he valued himself and his opinions more.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him.

It's so precious to me, how relatable this is. Anyone who is a creative can relate, I'm sure. How nervous creatives are before they publish or they post or they even just share with someone they are close to. I wanna hug him.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. Sappy motherfucker.

Some day, someone needs to tell him he can give himself permission to BE sappy. Corny is part of life and it's a blessing.

He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. It’s soo stupid.

It's annoying to read Logan's antiquated views on masculinity here. Completely understand that it fits with his character and how he has aged and evolved but omggggggggggg, it's just frustrating lol

You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

The way we can convince ourselves of the worst possible outcome, eh? *smh*

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

SHE IMMEDIATELY TREATED IT AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS!!! SHE WANTED TO PROTECT IT JUST LIKE LOGAN WANTED TO PROTECT IT!!! BUT SHE LOVES IT TO THE POINT SHE MADE HERSELF A COPY TO CARRY IT AROUND WITH HER AT ALL TIMES!!!!!

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

To see the similarities in how they DON'T see themselves fully is kind of sweet and makes me root for them.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is HILARIOUS and KILLING ME because I also make rules for MYSELF that are different from the rules I have for EVERYONE ELSE lmao

He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

Logan being an Acts of Service person makes ALL the sense in the world to me.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end.

The curse of the sequel! I think a lot of creatives can relate to this type of self induced pressure which means nothing you produce is good enough.

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.” He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

She already has a frame for the new drawing cuz the frames came in packs of 2 and she will NOT STAND for someone not absolutely FAWNING over it and I love that from her. It's doing Logan's heart SO good to see how much she adores what he's created.

If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you. Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

Our man is S-M-I-T-T-E-N and I love that for him. Cuz look what it's brought back into his life?

“I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it. “No one else knows.” You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

This is so intimate. And he's finally comfortable all the way with her. She knows it's him and he's fine with her knowing it's him.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

I appreciate that Logan is just the tiniest bit "selfish" here because this has been such an emotionally taxing ordeal for him. And she really really admires his talent and is THRILLED that it's him and that he sees her the way that he does.

From here the story slips into the Rated R portion of the story which is both hot and very sweet. The buildup means that I feel a genuine connection and intimacy between the 2 that feels "earned," if that's the right word. Cuz it doesn't feel forced or rushed or like we skipped a whole bunch of stuff to get here.

I also love that there's open dialogue. Often, the only talk between lovers is dirty - which I am a big fan of and absolutely fine with - but that here we have sweet confessions, constant check ins, and reassurances; these all fit with the journey we've been on with these two and I just really enjoy that aspect.

There's also good dirty talk, balanced give and take and praaaaaaaaaaaaise which I enjoy thoroughly. Logan also tends to take the possessive "my girl" over and over which just melts my butter!

@selfcarecap thank you so much for creating and sharing this! Thank you for following YOUR muse through to the end of this tale and then being brave enough to slip it under all our doors *bad dum tss* I really loved this look at Logan, his vulnerabilities, his abilities and desires beyond his powers / "job" and what allowing himself to create ultimately gifted him with. Well done smut that I also very much enjoyed too.

And thank you to K for putting it on my dash!

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it.

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it?

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead?

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.

He could give it to you.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside.

Sappy motherfucker.

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep.

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse.

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks.

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you.

He wakes up with morning wood.

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.

It’s soo stupid.

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps.

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you.

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again.

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself.

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist?

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him.

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw.

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone.

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw?

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it.

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it.

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.”

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.

“Did you draw it?” He asks.

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

“Secret admirer?”

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended.

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all.

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven.

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect.

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?).

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time.

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him?

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know.

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight.

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid.

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say.

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that).

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile.

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh.

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him.

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears.

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is.

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him.

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his.

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long.

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better.

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access.

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide.

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged.

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead.

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath.

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine.

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still.

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head.

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while.

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is.

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

#feedback #marvel #logan howlett #wolverine

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revelboo · 3 days ago

Note

it probably didn't happen, but imagine the shrinking somehow reached the decepticons. I need the humans to react to the tiny cons because they of all the transformers act like they're scary and tough, but need a good hug.

You guys keep me amused 😂 Let’s just go with suspension of disbelief and say somehow Wheeljack also FUBARed the Cons

I have requests for TFA Shockwave, Sunstorm, Rung, TFA Ratchet, Hound, and Cyberverse Soundwave. I’m actually busy at work this week, though, researching and compiling data, so updates may be wonky unless I start typing up the next day’s posts the previous night

Mass Displacement Mayhem Scenarios Pt 3

Megatron

• Staggering and off balance as he’s forced to mass displace without warning and then realizes he went past his limits somehow. That he’s only about knee high on you. The shock of it freezing him in place, so he flinches when you grab him and drag him into you. And it’s wholly undignified the way you’re going on about his “widdle” cannon. Why are you talking like that? He’s wracking his processor trying to figure out how this happened, because he’s stuck and can’t mass shift back. Left tiny and vulnerable, though it’s hard to focus on defense when you’re cupping his face in your warm palms, apparently delighted. Venting because he’s much too old for this, he keeps an optic and his cannon aimed at the door as you pull him into your lap to fuss over him. Secretly enjoying the feel of you hugging him as undignified as it is, but please stop talking to him like he’s a sparkling.

Thundercracker

• Has absolutely no idea what just happened, but before he can even try to figure it out, you attack. Had known you were still unhappy about being stolen, but didn’t expect you to lash out- oh, never mind. You just want to pick him up. Little wings flicking fitfully when you press a kiss to his helm and play with his wings with gentle fingers. All while cooing at him. Knows he should be mortified, but he’s enjoying the attention. Fuss over him all you want.

Starscream

• Flies to perch out of reach the instant you made that awful noise and tried to grab him. Glowering as you try to coax him to you. Why are you crooning at him like that? It’s undignified and he’s more worried about how vulnerable you both are right now. No, he’s not coming down. He is absolutely not cute. Trying his best to ignore you and keep an optic on the door ready to attack, because he’s completely stressed out, wings flared and paranoia out of control.

Constructicons

• Scattered when you ran toward them. They have no idea what happened, but to avoid being caught, they have to transform to speed away and you’re laughing hysterically as you chase after them. Bonecrusher gives up first and transforms back. Unresisting as you grab him and sit, grinning over how cute he is. Eventually they all wander over once they realize you’re not attacking. Patiently letting you fuss over all of them, grumbling but secretly eating up the attention. Scavenger just outright climbing into your lap for a hug.

Soundwave

• Hoisting Soundwave up into your arms to save him from his overly excited cassettes, you’re as giddy as they are. Because somehow Soundwave mass displaced smaller than you’ve ever seen. And because you’re holding him, you’re now also being mobbed by cassettes wanting to hold tiny Soundwave. Feeling guilty about it as you cave to their pleas and sit crosslegged with him in your lap, hearing his tired venting as you and his cassettes fuss over how cute he is. Tipping his head back to stare at you. “Traitor,” he grumbles, that serious voice coming from such a tiny frame shattering your own composure as you hug him laughing.

Shockwave

• Antenna back as he gets carried around like a helpless sparkling. Asks you to put him down and you ignore him, and since he’s unwilling to hurt you to get free, he’s just tolerating it. Please stop kissing him on the head, you’re making his processor chaotic. Cute? Him? Illogical. Venting tiredly at you the whole time, but a part of him almost enjoying the attention and how gentle your hands are. That you’re not intimidated by him at this size.

#transformers x reader #shockwave x reader #starscream x reader #thundercracker x reader #megatron x reader #constructicons x reader #soundwave x reader #soundwave #megatron #starscream #thundercracker #shockwave

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xjcjuis · 3 days ago

Text

ARE YOU COMING HOME?

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: she gets a lovely surprise while on tour

warnings: nothing but FLUFF i love fluff, not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

a/n: very late merry christmas and happy new year!! not my best work but please enjoy! anyways i need to be picked up and spun around plsplspls

long distance relationships are never easy, especially when your girlfriend is one of the most famous singers in the world. she's on tour right now, overseas and so, so far away from you and your empty arms.

or so she thinks.

billie's voice is a little tinny through the phone, crackles from foil heard as she unpacks the snacks she'd bought after her show. you watch in contentment, hugging a pillow to your chest with a leg exaggeratedly thrown over it, arm starting to go numb from holding the device up.

"i bought your favorite sweets too," she says, cutting the silence. "missing you so much, i really wish you could be here to steal from me." she ends her statement with a pout. oh, how you wish you could kiss that pout off of her lips. but soon. all you need right now is patience.

"so your friends- you guys went to a hotel just to watch a movie?" billie asks, a little confused. it was the best excuse you could think of out of nowhere.

"yup," you reply, popping the p. "they're not around right now, though. out shopping. i'm too broke and lazy to go out."

"i told you you could use my card, though."

"i'm not using your card, billie."

"you could if you wanted."

"no."

she frowns, as if she were the one losing something. billie did that a lot: shower you with expensive gifts and treats and dates and refuses to accept anything back. the fact only makes you happier about your plan, knowing she'd ask about the cost but it wouldn't really matter anyway because both of you were benefitting.

"when are you coming home?" a trick question. "i miss you so so bad. and i miss staying home with shark and just cuddling together. our bed is so cold without you."

"oh?" billie grins, eyebrow raising. before she could comment anything inappropriate, the doorbell rings on her end of the line. "ah, that must be room service. i ordered dinner. be back in a minute, love."

you grin to yourself now as she turns away to answer the door, knowing that there was a very big chance that it was, in fact, not room service. your ears prick up at the hint of a gasp, muffled voices exchanging polite conversation, and billie returns in frame holding a huge bouquet of flowers, an even huger smile on her face.

she was practically glowing, outshining the sweat and slight tiredness formerly seen on her face from her performance. "you're kidding me."

"what?!" you ask, laughing. your heart swells with pride.

"you didn't seriously get me this from, what, on the other side of the world?" your girlfriend asks incredulously, admiring the little pink and white petals you'd picked out and reading the note that said nothing but 'i'm proud of you'.

you push yourself up off the bed, casually pulling on a pair of socks before slipping on your shoes, making sure to not let it be seen on camera. "i had to call in a couple of favors from your manager, of course. i'm sorry it's not in my handwriting."

and it wasn't, because you knew that billie would recognize your strokes immediately, and that would blow everything else off.

you make your way to the main hotel door, making sure your face covered the background so that the girl on your phone didn't see its similarities to her own room. "hold on, baby, i'll call you back."

the singer's dark brows furrow at your abrupt dismissal. "okay. don't take too long."

"love you."

she didn't get to reply before you click on the red button and dash to the elevator, pressing her floor in the same hotel (though she didn't know it yet), having memorized the number by heart when she told you yesterday.

you get there, just in time for the room service server to roll his cart of to her door. pushing your nerves aside, you walk right up to him and excuse the interruption. "hi, sorry. my girlfriend is in this room and i was hoping to surprise her, would you mind if i borrowed your hat?"

he agrees, barely hiding a smile. thanking him, you took a deep breath to compose yourself, jamming the hat onto your head. your hand lingers over the bell, glancing nervously at the server, who in turn nods encouragingly at you.

ding.

footsteps can be heard from inside, and you count to five before the door swings open and you drop your head to hide your face, resorting to deepening your voice. "hello ma'am, room service-"

"y/n?" she gasps in recognition, incredulous. billie's hand is frozen on the doorknob, staring in disbelief.

finally, you raise your head and hand the server his hat back, your smile having difficulty in concealing a laugh. "surprise?"

you're unable to do anything more when billie snatches you up by the waist, raises you, and spins you around dramatically, her own lips wide in a grin. the sudden movement messes up your hair, getting it over your shoulder and behind and swept towards the opposite side but she didn't care. your girlfriend pulls you in close in a tight hug, one arm around your waist and the other resting upon your spine.

her happiness can still be felt blind.

she wouldn't let go, not for a second to get inside, not to formally accept the room service food, so you thank the server over her shoulder.

he leaves you and billie to your moment a little awkwardly.

"you didn't tell me you were here!" she whines into your hair.

you laugh. "that's the point of a surprise, bils."

"i can't believe you actually flew here. you hung up on me. i love you so so so much, you know that?"

"yes, i know." another soft smile graces your face. "i love you so so so much too."

#☕. . . espresso! [works]#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x you #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie fluff #billie eilish fluff #fluff #billie eilish x female reader #fem!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #billie eilish x gender neutral reader #billie eilish x gn!reader

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myownwholewildworld · 3 days ago

Text

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

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adumbratrapedme · 3 days ago

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“Caught, Almost!”

Pairing: kenma x reader

Synopsis: you and kenma. needy. school grounds. almost caught. ok? ok.

Warnings: “public” sex, smut, +18, p in v, etc. idk im too lazy to properly tag this uhhh, is my first time writing smut cuz i usually get too nervous while writting it ngl (i take constructive criticism, sooo point out what i could do better. thank you!). nyan!

╭⋅Tbh not even you know how you guys enfed like this huh ╭⋅You where supossed to JUST GO AND FIND YOUR BOYFRIEND that was skipping practice (again) ╭⋅He was tired you know?? You guys just finished exam season and! He got a new game! Common!! Let my man rest!! ╭⋅Anyways, you didn’t care, sorry ken ken, disadvantages of having a manager gf unu ╭⋅So, tbh i would never take kenken as someone that has public sex? But i mean lets try to understand him ok? A full exam week, no gf, no kisses and the only opportunities you had to get together he got cockblocked! Wether it was his or you family ╭⋅When you finally find him sitting in his desk playing with the psp you try to pull him away but he does not comply! ╭⋅Until well… you get irritated and start saying that you’d do anything he wants!! ╭⋅So here we go :3

��₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Kenma~!” you called out, your voice echoing through the empty halls as you searched for your elusive boyfriend. Frustration bubbled inside you, and just as you were about to give up, a familiar mop of pudding-colored hair caught your eye through the window of an empty classroom. “UGH! THERE YOU ARE!!” you huffed, storming into the room, Kenma flinched at your sudden outburst, his eyes still glued to his handheld console. "You're still looking for me? So... practice isn't over yet? Great..." he muttered under his breath, clearly bothered by the situation.

"Honeyyyy~" you groaned dramatically as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. He didn't budge, his fingers tapping away at the buttons, “keEeeEn~” you whined, playfully trying to push him out of the chair.

"Come on! Kuroo is going to kill me if I don't bring you back!"

Still no reaction.

You leaned in closer, pressing your cheek against his. "Do you really want your beaaauuutiful girlfriend to fail at her manager duties, huh?"

Kenma finally sighed, his gaze never leaving the screen. "

...If it means

you'll leave me alone, then... sure."

"UGH! Kenmaaaa!" you pouted, slumping dramatically in front of him.

Dropping to your knees and hugging his legs you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

His fingers faltered for a second.

"You're so annoying.." he muttered, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After what felt like hours (okay, maybe just ten minutes) of begging and pressing Kenma to go to practice, you finally hit your limit. Refusing to stand from your spot on the floor, you crossed your arms and gave him your best fake teary eyes, complete with a trembling pout.

“Fine then… let them fire me from my manager position,” you huffed dramatically. Kenma finally glanced down at you, his expression flat. “Y/N… this isn’t a job. They won’t fire you.”

But then — ngh! — his gaze lingered. The sight of you sitting on the floor, all pouty and vulnerable? That triggered something in his brain.

Neurons? Activated.

Kenma? Horny

Y/n? Annoyed

Crops? Watered.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he averted his gaze, but his voice softened. “But… maybe there’s something we can do… if you really want me to go back to practice.” Your eyes lit up. “YAS! I knew it!” You leapt from the floor, wrapping your arms around him in excitement. “Come on, tell me! I’ll do anything you want!”

Kenma blinked, momentarily stunned by your enthusiasm, before a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well… you know how we haven’t been able to spend much time together lately?” You nodded eagerly, not missing the way his voice dipped into a quieter tone.

“And how every time we try to be alone… someone interrupts us?” he added, glancing at you briefly before looking away again, the blush deepening.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, heart thumping in anticipation. Kenma cleared his throat. “Well… maybe we can do it now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait… here?” “The school’s practically empty,” he murmured, setting his PSP down on the desk. “Only a few clubs and… maybe a janitor. But if we’re careful…”

He finally looked back at you, and the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“You serious?” you whispered.

Kenma leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Only if you want to.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

So... in the end, you gave in—how could you possibly resist that pudding-colored mop of hair? And now, here you are, in this exact moment.

You're leaning over his desk, your hands pressing against the surface.

Honestly, you feel a little exposed. Your boyfriend's behind you, and you can feel his gaze, while all you can see is what's right in front of you. You feel his cold hand lift your skirt, the breeze of his breath hitting your core, making you shiver just a little..

"just look at this, huh kitten? i barely even told you what i wanted and you are this wet already?” he said as he pulled down at your underwear, “ so eager to please me huh?” He said leaning into you and giving your ear a few kitten licks.

"P-Please, Kenma," you whispered, a hint of shame in your voice. Doing this in school? It felt so forbidden, so sinful. But deep down, you couldn't deny it — you'd been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

To be honest, Kenma had wanted to tease you a little longer, but even he couldn't hold back. After the past week of restraint, he was too pent up to keep it inside any longer.

"So whiny..." he murmured while placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck, while one of his hands ran down your shirt until he reached your breasts, the way he squeezed them was very rough, but it was the right one for that moment, his hand was massaging them and the other was busy unbuckling his belt.

"I'm sorry darling..." he whispered into your ear while holding his member with one hand and rubbing it against your entrance earning a soft moan from you "you know that normally I would go slowly but... I don't think there's enough time for that right now"

You nodded in agreement, eager to feel him inside you, you hadn't realized how much you needed this, how much you missed his hands, his kisses and his caresses...

Just when you were lost in your thoughts a sudden pressure at your entrance made you yelp, Kenma's hands gripped your waist firmly, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you closer. His breathing was uneven, his gaze heavy with desire as he leaned in.

"Ahh... Y/N..." His voice came out low and hoarse, roughened by the tension building between you. He pushed in deeper, his movements purposeful, each one making you gasp as your body adjusted to him. "You're so tight... nghh..." The way he muttered it, half a groan and half a breathless confession, made your stomach flutter.

A whimper escaped you, soft and broken, your lower lip trembling as you tried to speak through the haze. "K-Kenma... it's so big, I-"

Before you could finish, he picked up his pace, each movement making you lose more control over your voice. You couldn't stop the sounds slipping from your lips, and just as quickly, he silenced you with a kiss - rough, needy, possessive. "I like you better when you just moan for me," he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and commanding.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, making you melt into his touch.

You could feel the tension in your body rising fast, and by the way Kenma gripped you, he could feel it too. The way you clenched around him made him groan softly, his head dropping to your shoulder as he trailed kisses along your neck, leaving faint marks behind.

Normally, he would slow down - tease you, drag things out until you were begging for more. But this time, he couldn't hold back. His own release was close, and it showed in the way his thrusts grew more erratic, rocking the desk beneath you as he pushed deeper.

"Fuck... baby..." His voice was husky, strained, filled with urgency as he buried himself in you. "I'm really close..."

You couldn't hold back your own moans any longer. The intensity of his movements, the weight of his body against your back, the sound of his voice — it was all too much. You didn't care if anyone could hear, if anyone walked by. All that mattered was him.

Kenma's fingers tightened their grip on your hips, his forehead pressed to yours as he pushed you both toward the edge. His heart was racing, his breath ragged in your ear, and you could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter.

"Kenma... please." you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to him, your body shaking from the overwhelming sensation.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name falling from your lips, his movements never faltering. He could feel how close you were — he always knew your body better than you did.

And though his usual control would have him drawing things out, this time he couldn't stop. His release was so close, right there, and he didn't want to hold back.

Twenty minutes in, and he already had you falling apart twice. But still, he kept going, chasing that final high — for both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Kenma's forehead rested against your back, his breath hot and uneven as you both tried to steady yourselves.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns under your skirt, a stark contrast to the urgency from moments before. There was a softness in his gaze now, something tender beneath the layers of intensity that still lingered in the air between you.

"Are you okay?" he murmured quietly, his voice softer, more familiar. The concern in his tone made your heart ache in the best way, and you nodded, lips curling into a faint smile.

"I'm okay," you whispered, though your voice still trembled slightly from the aftershocks, your body now fully resting in the desk in a weak attempt of catching your breath.

Kenma's lips twitched into a small smile at your answer. He wasn't always great with words, but his actions said enough. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you before before turning you around, facing each other, his forehead brushing yours in a quiet moment of calm.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint creak of the desk beneath you. His thumbs rubbed lazy circles over your skin, grounding both of you as you melted into each other. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. It wasn't like him to ask, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now — more vulnerable, more open.

You shook your head, cupping his face gently. "No... it was perfect," you said softly, and you meant it.

Kenma sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into your touch.

His lips pressed a lingering kiss to your palm before he pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around you like he couldn't bear to let go just yet. "You make me feel things I never thought l'd want," he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy. "I've never... wanted someone like this before."

The honesty in his words made your chest tighten, and you couldn't help but smile as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered against his skin. "You don't have to be afraid of wanting me."

Kenma's arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His heart was pounding against yours, steady and strong.

What you both thought would be a peaceful moment didn’t last nearly as long as you had hoped. For a brief second, you let yourselves forget that you were still on school grounds, thinking you could steal a quiet moment together. But reality quickly came crashing back in the form of a loud, obnoxious voice that both of you knew all too well.

"KENMAAAAAA... Y/N!" Kuroo’s voice echoed through the hallways, sharp and unmistakable as he called out for you two. It was impossible to ignore. You exchanged a glance, both of you groaning internally.

"Come on, Y/N, I trusted you!" Kuroo’s voice whined from further down the hall, his footsteps growing louder as he approached.

"Shit," Kenma muttered, clearly irritated. He quickly pulled away from you, his eyes darting around in panic. "We should hurry," he added, his tone serious now.

Both of you scrambled to adjust yourselves. Kenma straightened his uniform with a quick tug at his collar, while you did the same at your skirt. You couldn’t help but glance at Kenma, biting your lip in a mix of amusement and slight concern.

"Do I have sex hair?" you asked, half joking but also genuinely curious, Kenma paused for a split second, giving you a once-over before shrugging. "Hmm... maybe just a little," he said nonchalantly, brushing his fingers through your hair to tame it.

"Great," you muttered, pushing your hair back into place as the sound of Kuroo’s voice drew closer. You had to think fast before he found you both in the hallway, and judging by the way Kenma was glancing nervously in the direction of the noise, he was already calculating your next move.

You both braced yourselves for what would surely be an uncomfortable encounter, wondering if this "moment of peace" was truly ever meant to be.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume smut #haikyuu kenma kozume #haikyuu!! kenma kozume #haikyuu kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu!! kenma kozume x reader #smut #minors dni #thought up by rin #kenma #kenma smut

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schlattslambo · 2 days ago

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i need a jschlatt smut when he's drunk after some big party like a wedding or smth like that, and he's all cute and cuddly but also horny for you and wants to marry you but also fuck you thank you that's all

a/n: coming back with a bang! hope you all enjoy!! im basing this off of drunk bob from bobs burgers “show me your boobs”

———————

jay was humming along to the song that the uber was playing as the two of you stumbled to the house. the two of you chose to ring in the new year with friends, and the drinks were flowing. his dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway despite the cold, and his jacket was draped over your shoulders. his lips feather over your neck, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“baby, let me open the door,” you smile, fumbling for your keys.

“but i love you,” jay whines against your skin.

“love you too, baby.” you turn and give him a kiss on the cheek before pushing the door open.

the door isn’t even fully closed before jay is on you, nipping at your skin and feeling you up.

“you’re so beautiful,” jay mumbles. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too jay,” you reply, returning his kisses.

jay scoops you up without a word and throws you over his shoulder. you squeal and grip his shirt, laughing loudly.

“jay!” you squeal. “put me down!”

in response, jay slaps your ass and you can almost picture the grin on his face. he plops you down on the bed that you two share and crawls on top of you. brown hair falls in his face as he smiles, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

just as you’re sure that he’s going to grind onto you, jay flops down and snuggles into you. his hands grip your soft body gently as his face finds its way into the crook of your neck.

“you’re just so amazin’ baby,” jay says against you. “i got so lucky. you make my life so much brighter.”

he babbles away, complimenting you and rubbing your thighs and hips as he does. he looks up at you and your eyes lock again. you don’t think he’s ever looked at you with such love before. maybe he has and you just weren’t looking?

you run a hand through jay’s hair and smile.

“y’know,” jay says. “i wanna marry you one day.”

your breath catches in your throat. jay is never one to be outwardly affectionate, so this entire moment is charged. you’re sure that you’ll break down into tears if jay keeps saying all these sweet things.

“we’d have everything you wanted. the best damn cake money can buy, and we’d get married on a beach just like you’ve always dreamed of.” jay says, staring at you with literal hearts in his eyes. “and you’d look so beautiful. like the goddess that you are. you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, and i want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.”

your tears finally sting your eyes before falling and you sniffle, grabbing jay close and hugging him tightly.

“i love you,” you whimper softly. “and i can’t wait to marry you one day.”

jay adjusts, straddling you as he brings your lips to his. what starts out as a loving, passionate kiss turns into a sloppy makeout session. when the two of you break away for air, jay’s fully tenting his pants. you glance down before giggling.

“‘s what you do to me, sweet thing,” jay smiles bashfully. “can’t help it.”

you smile and bring jay back down, nibbling his bottom lip.

“you should show me how much you love me,” you breathe against his lips. “please make me scream.”

jay pulls back slightly and smiles. “baby, you say that shit again and we’re breaking this bed.”

#chuckle sandwich #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich smut #charlie slimecicle #ted nivison #ted nivision x reader #schlatt x reader #big guy

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kaiser1ns · 3 days ago

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When you first met Endo Yamato and Takiishi Chika you knew what you were signing for but didn’t expect this—pure chaos in the walk-in closet with clothes all over the floor, blouses and jackets were taken off the hangers, and looking at these two you got very confused ... Well, as you watched Endo search, Takiishi is just standing in the middle of it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to laugh at Endo, who had spoiled you shamelessly forever, and Takiishi, who was still interested in you despite his ever-shifting whims. “Looking for my hoodie,” Turning their heads to you as their eyes went wide, and you couldn’t figure out why until the tattooed man’s gaze locked on you, his mouth parting in realization. You followed his line of sight, suddenly self-conscious. Oh. You were wearing the hoodie.

He let out a sigh, finally calm that he found what he was looking for as he stood up and walked over to you. “Doll,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “you’ve got something that belongs to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Oh no. He knew. Not just about the hoodie, but the card. His precious credit card. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Endo would never actually do anything to hurt you, he wouldn’t dare, but he’d made it clear you were supposed to ask him before using it. And you… definitely hadn’t.

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted, practically tripping over your words. “It was just sitting there, staring at me! Like it wanted me to use it. And, well, I took the chance.”

He blinked at you, his expression slipping from teasing to baffled, turning to Takiishi, who remained as still as ever, blinking back at him with no intention of helping. “Well,” Endo finally said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, his nose practically brushing yours, “I guess I can’t stay mad if you’re going to look that cute while confessing.”

Takiishi, watching from the sidelines, rolled his eyes. “You spoil her too much,” he muttered, walking off as if he was one to talk about being spoiled. You could only laugh nervously as Endo pulled you into a hug, saying something about princess privileges under his breath you knew that you were either cleaning this or your allowance was about to be shortened, but not for long. “You’re lucky I like you.”

#✧* ꜝ wind breaker #✧* ꜝ takiishi chika #✧* ꜝ endo yamato #OKAY I WAS ACC ABOUT TO DROP WBK BUT THIS MADE ME GET TO LIKE EDNO AND CHIKA AGAIN #anyway enjoy this made by endo and chika official character information <3 #can't believe how spoiled chika is ... endo spoil me too please please please #to live with them would be so fun and exhasuthing because you have to clean after chika ... do you see this boy washing the dishes?? no.#ANYWAY WALKIN CLOSET / ENDO AND CHIKA SHARING CLOTHES / ENDO BEING RICH / CHIKA BEING A PRINCESS #wind breaker x reader #x reader #wind breaker #takiishi x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x you #windbreaker fluff #takiishi chika x reader #chika takiishi x reader #takiishi chika #takiishi #endo yamato x reader #endo yamato #endo #endo x you #wind breaker satoru nii #windbreaker x you #windbreaker manga #wind breaker manga #windbreaker #wind breaker anime #wind breaker x y/n

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elryuse · 3 days ago

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EVERGARDEN FAMILIA FINALE

YANDERE MAFIA GAHYEON X MALE READER

TAGS : YANDERE MAFIA GAHYEON, SUBMISSION, THE END OF A STORY, ENDINGS, NEW HOPE? WORDS : 2.561 WORDS

The Last Part Of This Amazing Journey of a Commisson for My Friend @starconstruction Hoped You Like this Ending Mate. Can't Wait to create more amazing Stories with Ya.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, the faint light filtering through heavy curtains doing little to illuminate the unfamiliar room. His head throbbed slightly, a dull ache that matched the confusion swirling in his mind. Where am I? He tried to sit up, but a sharp tug at his wrists stopped him cold. The metallic clink of chains filled the air as he yanked against them, panic rising in his chest.

His arms were bound to the bedposts with thick, unyielding cuffs, the kind that left no room for escape. His legs, too, were restrained, though not as tightly. The sheets beneath him were soft, luxurious even, but they offered no comfort. This isn’t my room. This isn’t anywhere I’ve been before. His heart hammered as he struggled against the restraints, the reality of his situation crashing down on him.

The door creaked open, cutting through his frantic thoughts. A silhouette appeared in the doorway, backlit by the brighter light of whatever lay beyond. Her. Gahyeon stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. She was dressed in a sleek black-and-white suit, the tailored lines hugging her frame perfectly. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her lips curved into a playful smile as she took in the sight of him.

“Good morning, love,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She closed the door behind her with deliberate slowness, the latch clicking shut like a final punctuation mark. “Did you sleep well?”

Y/n strained against the chains again, his breath coming faster. “What the hell is this, Gahyeon? Let me go!”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence as she approached the bed. “Let you go? But we’re just getting started, darling.” She ran a finger along the edge of the mattress, her gaze never leaving his. “I thought it was time for us to… deepen our connection.”

He bared his teeth, his anger momentarily overshadowing his fear. “This isn’t a connection—this is kidnapping! You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can,” she interrupted, her voice hardening. “And I did.” She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He flinched, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, but it sent a chill racing down his spine. “You belong to me now, Y/n. And I intend to make sure you never forget that.”

Her hand trailed down his jawline, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. “Do you remember last night?” she murmured, leaning closer. “How good it felt to let go? To stop fighting and just… surrender?” Her breath was warm against his ear, sending an involuntary shiver through him. “You don’t have to fight anymore. Just let me take care of you.”

“Gahyeon—” he started, but she cut him off with a kiss, her lips pressing against his with a possessiveness that left him breathless. It wasn’t cruel or rough—it was soft, almost chaste, but it carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. When she pulled back, her eyes gleamed with something dark and unrelenting.

“Shh,” she whispered, placing a finger against his lips. “No more talking. No more thinking. Just feel.”

She climbed onto the bed, straddling him with practiced ease. Her hands moved to the buttons of her blazer, unhurried and deliberate. Each button undone revealed more of her pale skin, the creamy expanse of her chest framed by the delicate lace of her bra. Y/n tried to avert his gaze, but she caught his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“See what you do to me?” she said, her voice low and husky. “How much I want you?” She shrugged the blazer off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then came the blouse, pooling around her waist as she discarded it with a careless toss.

“Gahyeon, stop,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please. This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. “Right? Fair? Moral?” She leaned down, her face inches from his. “Love isn’t about fairness, Y/n. It’s about passion. About obsession.” Her lips brushed against his again, this time lingering longer. “And I am obsessed with you.”

Her hands slid down his chest, trembling slightly as if she could barely contain herself. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. How many nights I’ve lain awake, imagining what it would be like to have you completely at my mercy.” She tugged at the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly until it bunched under his arms. Her fingertips danced across his bare skin, tracing the lines of his muscles with feather-light touches.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed, her voice filled with reverence. “Every part of you. From the way your body responds to me…” Her hand drifted lower, grazing the waistband of his pants. “To the way your breath hitches when I touch you like this.”

Y/n’s hips jerked involuntarily, a traitorous reaction that made his stomach churn. Gahyeon noticed, of course, and her smile widened. “See? Even now, your body knows the truth. It knows who it belongs to.”

She unfastened his pants with excruciating slowness, each movement calculated to draw out the tension. When she finally freed him, her breath caught. “Perfect,” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around him with a firmness that made him gasp. “Absolutely perfect.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation warring with the undeniable arousal coursing through him. “Gahyeon, please…”

“Please what?” she teased, stroking him with agonizing precision. “Please stop? Or please keep going?” She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Tell me what you want, Y/n. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

He didn’t answer—he couldn’t. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to fight, to push her away, but his body betrayed him, arching into her touch. She chuckled softly, a sound that was equal parts affectionate and predatory.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, releasing him long enough to shed the rest of her clothes. She knelt over him, her thighs bracketing his hips, and guided him inside her with a slow, deliberate motion

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the private island. The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythm like a lullaby to Y/n’s weary mind. He sat on the edge of the bed in the luxurious villa Gahyeon had prepared for him, staring out at the vast expanse of the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was pristine, every detail meticulously curated—soft linens, muted colors, and an overwhelming sense of isolation. It was beautiful, yes, but it was also a gilded cage.

“Do you like it?” Gahyeon’s voice broke the silence, soft yet commanding as always. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the fading light. Her presence was magnetic, pulling his attention away from the view and back to her. She wore a flowing white dress that clung to her curves, the fabric whispering against her skin as she stepped closer.

Y/n didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before returning to the window. “It’s… quiet,” he said finally, his voice low, almost resigned.

She tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. Too quiet for you? she seemed to ask without words. She crossed the room with deliberate grace, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. When she reached him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch both comforting and possessive.

“You’ll get used to it,” she murmured, her fingers trailing down his arm. “This is where we can be together without anyone interfering. No Evergarden, no mafia, no one to pull us apart.”

He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. There was no anger in his eyes now, no defiance—just a hollow emptiness that made her heart ache in the most peculiar way. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering against his skin.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

“I’m thinking…” he paused, swallowing hard. “I’m thinking that there’s no escape.”

Her smile widened, though there was something sorrowful in it. “There never was, my love. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

He looked away again, his jaw tightening. “And if what I want is freedom?”

Gahyeon laughed softly, the sound melodic but tinged with something darker. “Oh, Y/n. You think you want freedom, but what you truly crave is control. Even now, even here, you’re fighting yourself. But it doesn’t have to be like that. Let go. Let me take the burden from you.”

Her hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were intense, filled with a fervor that bordered on madness. “You belong to me,” she said, her voice firm but tender. “And I belong to you. Isn’t that enough?”

He didn’t respond, but his body betrayed him. His shoulders slumped, the tension draining from him as he leaned into her touch. She recognized the shift immediately, her smile softening. “There,” she whispered, brushing her thumb against his lower lip. “That’s better.”

She sank onto the bed beside him, her weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. Her fingers intertwined with his, squeezing gently. “Let me show you how good this can be,” she murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t resist as she guided him to lie back, his head resting against the pillows. She straddled his hips, her dress pooling around them like a cloud. Her hands roamed over his chest, mapping the contours of his body with reverence. “You’re so perfect,” she whispered, her voice thick with adoration. “Every part of you… I’ve dreamed of this for so long.”

Her lips found his neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. He shivered beneath her, his breath hitching as she moved lower, her teeth grazing his collarbone. “Gahyeon…” he breathed, his voice trembling.

“Shh,” she soothed, her fingers threading through his hair. “Just feel. Don’t think.”

Her hands slid under his shirt, pushing the fabric up until it pooled around his shoulders. She traced the lines of his abdomen, her touch feather-light but electric. When she reached the waistband of his pants, she paused, her eyes locking with his. “Tell me you want this,” she said, her voice a whisper.

He hesitated, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, it seemed he might refuse, might push her away. But then his resolve crumbled, and he gave her the smallest nod.

A triumphant smile spread across her face as she leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Her tongue slipped past his lips, exploring his mouth with a hunger that left him breathless. When she pulled back, she pressed her forehead to his, her breath mingling with his. “Good boy,” she purred, her tone dripping with affection.

She made quick work of the rest of his clothes, her movements fluid and unhurried. Her own dress soon joined the pile on the floor, leaving her bare before him. The sight of her made his pulse race, his body responding despite the turmoil in his mind.

She settled over him once more, her thighs bracketing his hips. Her hand trailed down his chest, fingertips dancing over his skin until they reached his length. She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slowly, teasingly. His hips bucked involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive,” she teased, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock. “So eager.”

“Gahyeon…” he pleaded, his voice breaking.

She smiled, releasing him only to position herself above him. With agonizing slowness, she lowered herself onto him, her body stretching to accommodate his size. A gasp escaped her lips as she took him inch by inch, her nails digging into his chest. Once he was fully sheathed inside her, she paused, letting them both adjust to the sensation.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice husky.

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then she began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her hands braced against his chest as she rode him, her breasts bouncing with each motion. The sounds of their bodies joining echoed in the room, mingling with their ragged breaths.

“This is where you belong,” she moaned, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. “Inside me. With me. Forever.”

Her pace quickened, her movements becoming more urgent. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “Come for me, Y/n. Let go. Give yourself to me completely.”

Her words broke the last of his resistance. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her down harder against him as he thrust upward. The sensations overwhelmed him, his vision blurring as pleasure coiled deep within him. Gahyeon cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she reached her own climax.

When it was over, she collapsed against him, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, placing a soft kiss against his pulse point. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion and relief washing over him. In that moment, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time—peace.

As they lay tangled together, Gahyeon traced patterns on his chest, her touch soothing. “You’ll see,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but content. “This is how it’s meant to be. You and me, together forever.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his head to look at her, his eyes searching hers. “Promise?” he asked quietly.

Her smile was radiant, filled with a warmth that melted away his doubts. “Always,” she replied, sealing her vow with a kiss

Small Epilogue ;

Years passed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of memories as Y/n drove, Gahyeon asleep beside him. He glanced at her, a soft smile gracing his lips. Her hair, streaked with silver now, framed her face, peaceful in slumber. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

They had built a life together, a life filled with laughter, whispered secrets, and the comforting weight of shared dreams. Their home, once a haven from the storm, was now overflowing with warmth and the echoes of children's laughter.

He remembered the day he had first looked into her eyes, the fear and the hesitant hope. Now, looking at her sleeping face, he knew that fear had long since vanished, replaced by a profound love that anchored his soul.

Gahyeon stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Where are we going?" she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"To the beach," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Remember how we always dreamed of a little cottage by the sea?"

A slow smile spread across her face. "I remember," she whispered, reaching for his hand. "And now, look at us."

He squeezed her hand, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting a golden glow on the road ahead. As they drove on, hand in hand, Y/n knew that their journey, filled with love, laughter, and the occasional storm, had just begun.

The End

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leonastarry · 1 day ago

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{ 3 } My baby. ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭s.jinwoo x fem!reader

☆ I like the way my baby hold my waist lovingly.

One thing you noticed when you started dating Jinwoo was that he seemed to really like hugging your waist. Anytime you two were near each other, he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. Or when you two were out, he would wrap one arm around your waist possessively, declaring to everyone that you were his.

It's not that you feel uncomfortable or anything, on the contrary, you feel warm because of it. It shows that he is not afraid to show his love for you in front of everyone.

☆ I like the way my baby cherish me.

You are his precious treasure, the light that shines into his life. So he always tells himself to cherish you with all his heart.

Jinwoo is willing to give you the compliments that he thinks are the most beautiful. No matter what your appearance is, you are still the most beautiful person in his eyes. He is always grateful for your presence and appreciates everything you have done for him. And at times when you feel the saddest and most disappointed, he will always be there to remind you how wonderful you are in his eyes.

After all, for him, no presence is more precious than you.

☆ I like the way my baby pamper me even though I'm still a bit arrogant.

Not gonna lie, his pampering of you is so much that sometimes you act like a child.

Whatever you like, he will buy it for you. Whatever you want to eat, he will cook it for you. Wherever you want to go, he will take you and make sure you are always happy.

Sometimes you feel like he pampers you too much, you say you will become spoiled. He just smiles and kisses the corner of your eyes.

"I only have one girlfriend, why can't I spoil her?"

☆ I love the way you hold my hand, I love the way we face each other.

During some free time, you and he will sit and talk about what happened. Or just you talk, he will listen to everything. At that time, he will hold you and intertwine your fingers, holding tightly. If you are not too busy and eager to tell him what you find interesting, you will catch his gentle eyes looking at you attentively and passionately.

☆ I love the way my baby kiss me, and let me know that I'm very special.

Jinwoo loves kissing you. He thinks that even though it can't express all his feelings, it's a great way to show you how much he loves you. It could be a kiss on the cheek, the corner of the eye, the top of the head, or the forehead… Sometimes, he holds your hand and kisses your knuckles.

After each kiss, he will whisper sweet words into your ear. He always tries to show you how special you are to him and how his world wouldn't be complete without you.

He's not the type to open up easily, so if he says he loves you, he means it for the rest of his life. You are something he can't lose, something he needs to care about.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

After all, with all that you have been through, in the midst of a life full of dangers, you both understand that it is very difficult to find each other. Therefore, you both choose to cherish your lover in the way that you think is the most perfect. And perhaps, this love will never be broken no matter how much time passes.

......

Sitting on the soft grass and looking up at the starry sky, Jinwoo pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and whispered in a loving and sincere voice.

"I love you in every universe."

English is not my first language, so the story can be not so good 😅😅

#sung jinwoo x reader #solo leveling #sung jinwoo #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo #sungjinwoo #dream.✧˖*°࿐#leona.star

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roseyodditea · 14 hours ago

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Hiii (llove ur harumasa work)

If u don't mind writing for both haru and Seth (cuz both of them have cute Lil fangs my god those teef)

Could I request love bites from them? Like they saw their s/o and felt they looked extremely cute that in the midst of a hug/snuggle/cuddle they just Chomp or any extra scenarios

I'll leave the rest to u but extra dose if fluff Plz!

🍮

You are so right I do love their little teeth.

They Bite Because They Like You - Seth/Harumasa x gn!Reader (Seperate)

Summary -> About 500 words each. Barely proofread because it was written in the waiting room of a vet's office <3 Warnings -> None! The biting isn't too suggestive

It was a cozy, rainy afternoon and after what felt like hours of begging and pleading you had convinced Seth to forgo his training for the afternoon and cuddle up with you to watch a movie. Between the light pattering of the rain on the windows, the lit candles being the only light source, and the big fluffy blanket, it was hard to not feel relaxed. You were thankful to have this time to enjoy with your sweet boyfriend. You had never dated a feline thiren before, so it wasn’t unusual for Seth to do something you weren’t quite used to, but this was new. Your sweet boyfriend was… shaking? Vibrating?

You picked your head up just slightly to get a look to make sure everything was okay, only to see him intently focused on the tv. Nothing seemed wrong, so you put your head back down on his chest, hearing the noise and feeling him shake again. After a few seconds you realized what it was. He was purring and it was the best noise you’ve ever heard.

“You are adorable,” you coo and see his ears twitch a bit as he looks down with a clueless expression.

“Huh?” He tilted his head a bit, curious.

“You’re purring! You’re all comfy and cozy and purring!!” You tease and poke his side only to hear the high pitched noises he let out in protest. “Cute!”

“I am not cute!” He let out a shrill giggle, a bit ticklish.

You continued to tickle him relentlessly, pinning him under your body weight as you listened to the noises and snorts, your hands moving to tickle his stomach. “You’re the sweetest and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” Seth lets out a particularly loud laugh before reacting on pure instinct, reeling up to sink his teeth in your bicep before he realizes what he did, looking at you blankly, bracing himself for the teasing that was about to come.

“You just bit me like a little kitten!” You teased, finding it adorable despite the slight sting from the sharp fangs on your skin. “Like you had enough pets and you just bit me! That’s so cute.”

“No! I’m not cute!” He chokes out another laugh before biting more up your arm, like a petulant little kitten who was losing a fight. It doesn’t phase you at all, not minding the little raised red marks you’d have peppering your arm once you were done. How could you stop when he was being this adorable?

Seth finally wiggles away to the other side of the couch before he pouts and moves out of your grasp, sitting up and looking away from you, his ears flattening and twitching lightly as he glances back to see if you’re paying attention.

“Nooo I wanted to cuddle,” you sigh and watch how he wasn’t budging. “...Truce?” Seth looked over and smiled softly. “Truce.” He replied before moving to lay on top of you, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso.

“Are you going to start purring again?” You ask a bit excitedly.

“Probably. I’m enjoying this time with you.” Seth murmured and nosed into your neck.

… “Can you meow for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Publicly being Harumasa’s partner was… difficult to say the least. Walking through Lumina Square on a weekend with the flash of fans and press every now and then was a pain on its own, but the scolding words from some of the super fans who wanted to “steal your place” was overwhelming. It was too much, and you ducked into an alleyway and sat down on the concrete, catching your breath while Harumasa tried to get the press off of his back. You sat and a fat street cat came over for pets, helping you relax even further. You didn’t hear the footsteps until the cat ran away, Harumasa letting out a frustrated huff. “Hey, love.” He cooed softly and sat next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry today was ruined.” “It wasn’t ruined,” you mumbled and leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. “I got a little overwhelmed and needed a breather. It’s okay.” Harumasa was quiet for a bit before he spoke back up. “Well… Let me make it up to you. I know what you want~” A teasing tone dripped off of every single word he said, those golden eyes shimmering in mischief.

“What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking we'll go back to your place and make some cookies.” He offered and immediately a little light shined on your rain cloud. “Yeah see? There’s that smile I love so much.” He stands up and pulls you up with him.

“Fine, fine that sounds much better than being mobbed.” You let out a small laugh as he hoists you to your feet. Hand in hand, you both walked out of the alleyway and got maybe fifty steps before more fans and cameras found the both of you.

Random questions were thrown out, people asking for autographs or photos shouted over the insults being hurled at you. Harumasa just stopped, not wanting to give them the time of day after he just wanted to see your smile. He looked over, the look in his eyes saying he had a plan. “Can I do something over the top, ridiculous, and weird?” You tried to tune out all the people before looking at him. “What?” “C’mon. Yes or no?” “I-” one more call of someone threatening to ‘steal’ Harumasa from you sets you over the edge. “Yes. Go ahead.” Harumasa lit up before suddenly picking you up, twirling you around before attacking your face and neck with kisses and love bites, even playfully tugging the skin of your cheek just to hear the way you roared in laughter. He was being overly affectionate as you shrieked and shrilled, repeating ‘I love you’ like a prayer as he held you close to him, acting like the crowd wasn’t even there. Eventually they got the idea and dispersed, but Harumasa didn’t let up. Instead he had moved on to just biting and nipping playfully and laughing as you squirmed.

“Ah! Teeth! Teeth!” You placed your hand on his forehead and tried to push him away, the two of you practically wrestling in public and laughing. “Stop! Mercy!” You laugh as Harumasa pulls away and places one more dramatic kiss on your cheek before grabbing your hand.

“See? Now they’ll leave us alone because they think we’re freaks.” He laughs and gives you another playfully hug.

“You’re so weird,” you caught your breath as the last of the laughs died off on your tongue.

“Oh but you love it~” He lifts your hand to his lips for what you assume was a kiss before sinking his teeth into the back of your hand.

“Quit it!” You flick his nose and laugh as he dramatically reels away, stumbling until he’s back in step with you.

A/N, but a bit more personal than normal -> I'm still learning about the landscape and etiquette of Tumblr because I've only really browsed until recently. So excuse me while I experiment with trying to create a style that's recognizable at a glance. Also are there like other community things I need to work on? I know I'm a very shy liker and reblogger and I'm trying to break the habit in my mind and actually outwardly show support more. I say that but my OCD makes it hard sometimes. Anyway have a good day thank you for reading <3

#oneshot #asaba harumasa #harumasa x reader #zzz harumasa #seth lowell #seth lowell x reader #seth x reader #seth zzz

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lesaurita · 3 days ago

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♡︎ Shinso Hitoshi as your boyfriend ♡︎

Pairing: fem!reader x Shinso Hitoshi

Genre: fluff

Warnings: suggestive content, possessive!Shinso, jealous!Shinso

•° his hair is always in knots, you can't tell me otherwise. he'll never admit it, in fact he'll say that he only does it because it makes you happy, but he loves it when you cuddle him like this: with his head on your lap, while he lets you comb his hair and run your hands through it. There have been many times when he's fallen asleep in this position, and every time you catch him when he tries to get even closer to your body with his face.

•° he's not a fan of PDA, but if you really insist, you can hold each other by the pinky. Just know that if you meet someone you know while you're walking, his hand will immediately leave yours. He's very shy, what can you do?

•° I'm convinced of this when I say it: HE'S POSSESSIVE! maybe even a little too much at times, it could be a red flag, but he thought it was obvious the day you got together, that you are his and no one else's. When he sees that someone is taking things a little too far with you, he doesn't think twice about reaching out to you and making that someone understand who you belong to.

The boy in front of you was clearly hitting on you, you told him several times that you're not interested and that you don't want to have anything to do with him, but no, some boys are just empty-headed.

Luckily for you, you can't say the same for the boy though, you feel the presence of your boyfriend coming from behind. An arm slides around your waist and pulls you back, making you slam into Shinso's chest.

"That's enough." you hear his voice close to your ear: it's low, hoarse and you can feel the annoyance dancing between the words.

his grip on your waist tightens, and you're sure that it will almost certainly leave its mark for the next few minutes. it's a clear sign that he wants to send, but not to you, to the bastard in front of the two of you. he knows that you know that you are his, but the bastard has yet to figure it out.

"Leave, before I'll make you." shivers run down your spine, and judging from the way the boy in front of you swallowed, he felt the same way.

•° At first he was against it, but he can't resist your sweet eyes that implore him, when you beg him to use his quirk in bed. at first he thinks it's unfair to you, but in reality, deep down, it's the excitement that gets the better of him. the idea of being able to have absolute control over you, being able to tell you what to do without you saying anything, the way you're submissive to him...he just can't help it, but to turn himself on. He's always seen his powers as a bad thing, like the powers of a villain, but if we look at it from this point of view, it couldn't have gone better for him.

•° he reminds you that he loves you in the most random moments of the day, as long as it's just the two of you and no one else. You can be doing the most casual things, like cooking something, listening to music together and he will pull you close with a hug, whispering in your ear how much he loves you.

•° he has black humor. on the surface he may seem like the usual guy who never jokes, always serious and shy, but give him time to open up to you and be ready for the jokes you would never expect to come out of his mouth. he has a humor, you just have to get it.

•° he is definitely the type of guy who would rather stay home and watch a movie in peace, rather than go to a party, drink and dance. If instead you are the type who likes to go clubbing, you can be sure that he will be your personal driver both there and back. He will never let you go home alone, with a taxi or an uber or with someone. Just call him and he will already be in the car to pick you up.

•° Pet names. He has a ton of them. Eery day he calls you by a different name, but there's one that he particularly likes, and above all that has a certain effect on you: doll. He just sounds so majestic when he calls you that, it's impossible for your knees not to tremble at that sound.

•° he always compliments you, for everything. You got a good grade in school, you did well in practice, when you look beautiful in a dress. He doesn't care, whatever you do, he'll compliment and praise you.

"Shinso! Look, I got an A on the test!" You show him the test, but in reality he hasn't even had time to look at it, since you immediately jump on him.

His arms immediately meet behind your back and he squeezes you tightly so that he lifts you up and makes you spin in the air.

When he puts you back down, he presses a kiss on your head and with a sweet voice makes your heart melt: "Good girl, I'm so proud of you, doll."

•° in my opinion, Shinso is the kind of boyfriend who would ask (force) you to sit on his lap and do his eyeliner (even better if he asks you to do his waterline too, he'd look so good). Plus he loves seeing your face focused just a few inches away from his, while his hands remain on your lower back. Shinso with makeup>>>

•° when you both became adults, at eighteen, he'll beg you to get a tattoo together. He wants your love to be seen by everyone, what better idea than to tattoo it on your skin. Oh, and don't be surprised if after a few months you see his pale skin covered in black ink. Not long after you'll be running your hands over a body almost full of tattoos.

#hitoshi shinsou #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #mha shinso hitoshi #mha x reader

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satsugacafe · 21 hours ago

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𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬 | (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 4)

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: If it's not a bother for you, can you please write types of simp they are for rojuro, kenpachi, kensei, sajin and iba? Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Zaraki Kenpachi, Unohana Retsu, Ichimaru Gin, Muguruma Kensei, Ulquiorra Cifer

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Anon, I’m so sorry that I didn’t write for most of the characters you requested. Majorly because I don’t write for them. However, I didn’t want to turn down your request and decided to answer for Zenpachi and Kensei while adding in extras. I tried my hand with Kensei for the first time even though I’m uninterested in writing for him.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Zaraki Kenpachi — Aggressively Affectionate Simp

˚₊‧꒰ა Firstly, he’s fiercely protective of you, even though he knows you have strength and skills and all that, he still keeps an eye on you during battles, ensuring no harm comes your way. And god help those who do harm you.

˚₊‧꒰ა We all know he has his roughness, but just for you, he’ll grow a little softer. Ruffling your hair, bumping your shoulders, pulling you onto his lap or letting you piggyback ride across Seireitei or wherever he goes (because he gets lost). Aware of when you’re stressed or tired and forces—scolds—you to take it ease. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Take a rest, I’ll handle things here.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You’re his favourite sparring partner from now on. Whether you have the strength to go against him, he’s sparring with you. Consider it his way of indirectly training you for tough opponents because once you can handle him, you’re good to go.

˚₊‧꒰ა His hands roam and wander and they do not apologise. Walking through the barracks and suddenly feeling a slap to your ass, standing beside him or bending over and randomly feeling his hands on your hips, out of nowhere, a giant, towering six feet figure drapes over you, or a bone-crushing hug that turns you into jelly. Yup! Expect it.

˚₊‧꒰ა Your number one hype man, or maybe Yachiru fights him for that position. But he’s your hype man and makes sure that his division also hypes you up anytime you’re fighting or celebrating a victory or accomplishment.

˚₊‧꒰ა Constantly makes bets with you to see who can kill more Hollows or beat up (in his case, kill) bad guys. The winner…gets something only he could think of giving. I’ll let you all decide.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Say that again, and you’ll regret it. Do you wanna die?” Yes, he threatens everyone and anyone because they dare ill-speak about you?! Never around or not around him. Would tell you to spar with him so you can feel better. Hit him as many times as you want since he’ll tank every hit.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s fiercely loyal, never letting anyone mutter a single word about you. Which brings about his bluntness when it comes to letting you know how he feels. “I don’t like when you’re upset. Tell me who did this?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Doesn’t like when people interrupt your time with him. “Shoo. Can’t you see we’re busy?” Which leads to his possessiveness, always making sure others know that you’re his. “They’re with me, got a problem with that?!”

Unohana — Gentle-Natured Simp

˚₊‧꒰ა “Have you eaten today? You need to keep your strength up.” Yeah, for all of you who don’t like to eat (proper food), you’re gonna have her on your case when she learns you haven’t been taking care of yourself properly. (don’t think anyone wouldn’t mind though)

˚₊‧꒰ა Super supportive and always there to lend an ear anytime you need something to just listen to or give advice. Words of encouragement will be returned whether you ask for them or not, she will always boost your confidence. “You have so much potential. Never doubt yourself.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Tea dates, which probably start off with cooking dates. I can see her inviting you over to her division to spend time making your favourite meals together before moving to her quarters for a more private setting where you can enjoy your meal and some tea.

˚₊‧꒰ა I really don’t believe anyone is that foolish enough to harm you when she’s protecting you. Like everyone knows her reputation back then, and it hasn’t vanished, so you are well protected. Even if she doesn’t need to revert to that old version of her, her legendary skills in Kido are enough to keep you safe.

˚₊‧꒰ა Randomly pops up out of nowhere when you’re minding your business. All you would suddenly hear is her voice behind you, calling your name sweetly, or suddenly feel her arms sliding around your waist. It gives you quite a scare no matter how many times she reminds you that it’s all in good spirit.

˚₊‧꒰ა She had a habit of touching you as a gesture of reassurance, more for her sake than yours. A silent reminder that you’re real, you’re safe and alive, you’re still here with her. She sees you as her haven, her peace of mind and source of all things good. A light among all her transgressions in her past. Something good in her life.

˚₊‧꒰ა On that note of her being touchy, she does enjoy it when you cuddle her. Even if it’s just leaning into her side and wrapping your arms around her or sleeping beside her—she loves it. A small kiss to your forehead or head while she holds you closely and whispers, “You’re my everything,” or “You bring me much joy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა She loves to call you affectionate nicknames and terms of endearment, which makes your heart race when you look at you so sweetly and softly. “My dear,” “My heart,” “My love,” “My stars.” She’s a romantic one as well, in her own way of course. Surprising you with unexpected acts of kindness, a massage, a hot bath, or a spa day.

Ichimaru Gin — Devoted Simp (obviously)

˚₊‧꒰ა He loves to keep you on your toes, making you flustered or leaving you blushing, when often teasing you in a light-hearted manner. Sometimes, he likes to appear out of nowhere, always keeping an eye on you. “Miss me? I was just around the corner. You look so cute when flustered, you know that?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Fiercely protective and will never let anyone harm you while he’s around or not around. “Touch them, and you’ll regret it.” During any situation that becomes tense, and he notices your discomfort, he’ll use his charming words to defuse the tension. “No need to worry, everything’s under control.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Has a soft spot for seeing you happy and goes out of his way to make you smile. Using the moment to call you affectionate nicknames, often in a teasing yet endearing tone. “Hey, sunshine, come here for a second,” or “Looking lovely to today, cutie.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You don’t have to worry about Gin being honest about his feelings or expressing his thoughts, even if they’re difficult to express. “I care about you more than you know. You’re my everything.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Loves when it’s just you and him together amidst the moments of chaos where he can let his hair down and be at ease. He is protective of those cherished times between you two. Doesn’t appreciate when someone encroaches or attempts to drag you off. “I love moments like this. When it’s just us. You and I.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s very attentive to your needs and wants while listening to your troubles or ambitions. He’ll remember that you only drink beverages of a certain colour or sit on a certain side of the room—as silly or odd as your preferences are, he respects them. As for your goals, he’s there to support you. “I believe in you, and I’m here to support you at all times.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His form of physical affection is as subtle and gentle as the wind. A gentle brush of his hand against your cheek, a kiss to the back of your hand, a gentle hug before he pulls you onto the futon to cuddle and peppers your face in soft kisses, landing the last one on your forehead.

Muguruma Kensei — Tough and Dedicated Simp

˚₊‧꒰ა He naturally has a tough exterior, often giving you a hard time, but it would be clear that he cares deeply about you. His teasing would be a way of showing affection to break the ice in case you felt like he was being a bit too tough on you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite his gruff exterior, he’s not immune to your teasing. If you call him out on being soft for you, he’ll scowl, but the faint pink on his ears gives him away. “Tch. Soft? You’re seeing things.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He tries not to let his affection affect his leadership, but it’s clear he values your opinion above others. If someone questions it, his response is simple: “Their insight’s solid. Got a problem with that?” But if that person doesn’t know to back off, he is fiercely protective, even if there’s no real danger. If someone so much as raises their voice at you, he’s immediately in their face.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s awkward with words when expressing how he feels, so he opts to show his care through actions—like fixing something for you or standing watch during late-night shifts. “What? You needed help, and I had time. No big deal.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Though he tries to act cool, his flustered moments give him away. If you catch him staring, he’ll clear his throat and mutter something like, “You’ve got something on your face—never mind.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Kensei always finds himself drawn to your presence, his usually stern expression softening whenever you're around. “Oi, don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking into my thoughts again.” On rare, quiet nights, he lets himself be honest. “You make all this crap easier to deal with, y’know? Don’t go running off, yeah?”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s surprisingly attentive, remembering small details about you that most wouldn’t. If you casually mention liking a certain snack, it’ll mysteriously appear in the barracks the next day. “Don’t overthink it, yeah? It’s not a big deal.”

Ulquiorra Cifer — Stoic Simp

˚₊‧꒰ა “Why do you insist on holding my hand?” Struggles to understand physical affection and your need for it. To him, it’s confusing and foreign, though, he slowly eases into the act bit by bit.

˚₊‧꒰ა Incredibly observant and always noticing the smallest details about you and remembering them. “You prefer you tea without sugar, correct?” or “You enjoy a warm blanket during the rain.” Even when your interests might be odd to him, once he understands that it brings you comfort, he strives to achieve it.

˚₊‧꒰ა His form of affection of performed through acts of service. Perhaps something of yours finished or broke. He will repair it or retrieve a new and better version for you, in the same colour with greater efficiency, so it doesn’t crash out on you. “Your vase was broken, so I took the liberty of repairing it.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Quiet moments with you are heavily appreciated—often sitting together in comfortable silence or engaging in deep, meaningful conversations. “Your presence is…calming. I enjoy your company.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s so straightforward with his feelings, never beating around the bush to leave you second-guessing what he was attempting to say. “I care about you. That is the truth and should anyone harm or take you away from me, they will suffer.” Protective and honesty as well.

˚₊‧꒰ა Enjoy teaching you about the Hollow world and his experiences, finding satisfaction in sharing his knowledge with you. Sometimes he would talk about his time before becoming an Arrancar and the room might grow silent as you feel sorry for his loneliness or the fights he got involved in back then.

˚₊‧꒰ა Has a habit of silently watching over you. At first, it came off as stalkerish since he was always lurking behind you, five paces silently. It was unnerving, but you eventually grew accustomed to his silence as he followed you around for your safety since other Espada might let their superiority go to their head and attempt to harm you.

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diazsdimples · 3 days ago

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"I want to forget you." + buddietommy

"I want to forget you," Tommy slurs. The half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand clinks against the table as he sways, hiccupping. "Both of you."

The air around him is thick with the scent of stale booze and body odour, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Beside him, Buck is a line of tension, discomfort rolling off him in waves. Eddie supposes it's not dissimilar to how he and Hen found Bobby all those years ago. The similarities are bound to be confronting.

"Tommy, babe, what are you doing?" Eddie asks with a sigh. The old endearment slips out before he can stop it, a force of habit after so long. His brain hasn't quite caught up with the fact that they're no longer a them.

"Makin' a choice," Tommy replies stubbornly. He locks eyes with Eddie, and he can barely see past the alcohol-induced glaze, to the Tommy he remembers and loves.

"Not a choice we asked you to make."

Buck's voice is firm, stubborn, like he's digging his heels in. Buck hadn't given up hope that Tommy would come back to them. It had been weeks of wistful looks at his phone, baking up every spec of flour, sugar, and baking powder within a 5 mile radius. He's not going to let Tommy get away from them so easily this time.

Eddie makes a mental note to thank Lucy for her tip-off.

Have you heard from Kinard? He hasn't been on shift for almost a week.

Tommy goes to stand and he sways violently. Both Eddie and Buck rush to support him, each hooking a hand under his arm. From here, the smell of alcohol is almost overpowering, oozing from his pores. Eddie thinks he could get drunk from the fumes alone.

"'M not good enough f'r you," Tommy mumbles, his head lolling. "N'ver g'd enough."

"Maybe that's something for us to decide."

Buck takes the bottle from Tommy's hand and places it gently on the table. He slings Tommy's arm over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the bathroom. Getting the hint, Eddie follows suit, supporting his boyfriend? ex-boyfriend? as he and Buck begin to guide him down the hall.

Tommy is heavy, even more so when none of his limbs are co-operating. They half carry, half drag him into the bathroom, both men straining under his weight. They set him down on the toilet, and Eddie begins to unbutton Tommy's shirt.

"Get his shoes, sweetheart?" he asks, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to Buck's temple. Buck's eyes flutter shut at the contact, and he seems to take strength from it, a renewed resolve in his movements as he crouches in front of Tommy.

They work in tandem to undress him, movements which, in another world, would have been the precursor to a night they'd never forget. Now, Eddie thinks Tommy won't remember much of this come morning.

Eddie taps Tommy's nose, and the pilot's eyes, unfocussed, train on him.

"Arms up," he instructs, tugging at the hem of Tommy's shirt. Tommy complies, and Eddie divests him of his final article of clothing. "Now, into the shower."

Meekly, Tommy does as he's told. Buck turns the shower on full blast, and as cold as he can make it, and Tommy jolts as the icy jet hits him square in the chest.

"Thass too cold," he complains, making to leave, but he's stopped by Buck. Buck circles his arms around Tommy's waist, pulling him into a tight hug, and steps under the water with him.

"Come on, baby, let me take care of you."

Tommy probably misses it, but Eddie catches the pleading edge to his voice. Buck needs this, maybe just as much as Tommy. He needs to put his love into actions, because Tommy won't remember words. He needs Tommy to know how much he's loved, by him and by Eddie.

"You'll st'y with me?"

"Always." Eddie steps under the water with them, clothing be damned, and pulls both men into his arms. He tucks his face into Tommy's neck, his fingers clutching tightly at Buck's saturated t-shirt. The last few weeks without Tommy have been hell, and as pissed as Eddie is with him, he needs this. He needs to be close to him. He needs to feel his skin beneath his hands.

"I've got you," Buck promises, kissing Tommy's temple.

"We've got you."

Short and Impactful Prompts

#james answers things #james writes #buddietommy #tw: alcohol #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 #911 ficlet #911 prompt #writing prompts

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rollinouttahere-writes · 9 hours ago

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I have decided to post the Sanji vent fic. Hopefully anyone struggling with a similar problem will be able to find comfort in this.

Genuine

Yandere Sanji x Fem Reader

6.4k words

Summary: It would seem that your coworker is onto you and your eating disorder, but you never could have guessed how far he would be willing to go.

Warnings: described feminine reader, non consensual touching, yandere tendencies, drugging, kidnapping, captivity, anorexia, reader is described as being underweight, negativity and self depreciation, I wrote this for me but like y'all can read this too I guess

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

“N-No, that’s all,” the man at the table shot you an anxious smile while wringing his sweaty hands before refocusing his attention on the woman sitting across from him.

Taking the hint, you promptly excuse yourself with a smile tugging at your lips. You couldn’t help but find the couple cute, especially after the man had nervously slipped you an engagement ring to place inside the lady’s champagne flute.

It was a quiet night in the Baratie with only a sparse amount of customers dining in. That meant less tips, but since it also meant less work, and you knew better than to bemoan it too much. Busy nights were truly chaotic, so you learned quickly to appreciate when it was slow.

With so little to do, you couldn’t help but covertly watch the table you just serviced, curiously awaiting how the woman would take to the proposal. Would she scream in joy and let out happy tears? Or would she be upset and dump the contents of the glass on her boyfriend’s head? Only time would tell.

As your gaze landed on the table, you saw that she had already fished the ring out of the glass with an awestruck look on her face. The man scrambled out of his seat and dropped to his knees beside her, clumsily swiping the ring off the fork and holding it up to her while saying words that you couldn’t quite make out from here.

Your eyes drifted to the woman. You were looking to see what her reaction was, but as per usual… your mind had other ideas.

She was gorgeous. A goddess amongst mere peasants. The way that her skillfully styled hair framed her face accentuated her every feature just as much as her perfectly applied makeup did. Not to mention that her dress was seemingly tailored to fit her stunning body just right. Anyone would feel blessed just to stand next to her. It was hardly surprising that someone would be so nervous and excited to propose to her.

What you wouldn’t give to be like her. To look like her.

“How romantic~”

A wistful sigh next to you snaps you out of your envious thoughts. You blink a couple times and see that the woman is now out of her seat and hugging the man tightly while all but sobbing her answer. The other patrons in the dining area politely clap for the happy couple, and your body goes into autopilot to do the same.

You spare a glance to the side, regarding the person who had just spoken to you. Sanji was standing no more than a foot away while watching the spectacle before him with a dreamy expression. He meets your eyes with a gaze that felt uncomfortably intimate, causing you to look the other way again. Your reaction makes him chuckle and step closer to you, and one of his hands snakes around your waist. The sensation of his hand massaging your side made you internally cringe. If anyone else did this to you, you would slap them. But… Sanji is your boss’s son, and you don’t particularly want to go job hunting again right now.

“Don’t you think that’s romantic?” His voice cooed directly into your ear, allowing you to feel his warm breath fan across it.

Not wanting to risk showing your discomfort, you keep your answer short, “I guess…”

“You guess? Do you not think that’s sweet?” His hand settles on your hip and forces you even closer to him, much to your chagrin. Of course he’s doing whatever he can to prolong the conversation.

“It’s just… I would hate a public proposal, that’s all.” You give a partial truth, not wishing to divulge the nasty pit of envy that was the real reason behind your less than enthusiastic reaction. “I’m happy for them, don’t get me wrong, but I would be mortified if someone proposed to me this way.”

“Oh? So you would want something more private and personal? That’s good to know.”

Without even looking at him, you could tell that he was smirking and it made you want to groan and roll your eyes, but you resisted. You cross your arms over your chest and sigh deeply, “I don’t see why any of my preferences would be good for you to know.”

Sanji pulls you in until you’re flush against his side and uses his free hand to grasp your chin and force you to look him in the eye, “But of course it’s good to know, my love. That could be us someday~”

A shiver runs down your spine and you abruptly shove him away, “You aren’t funny, Sanji.” You take several steps back and straighten your uniform, “Now get back to work and leave me alone so I can do my job.” You turn on your heel and march away from him, ignoring his protests. Fortunately, before he can give chase, Zeff pops his head out of the kitchen and yells at Sanji to get back in there.

Thank god…

You didn’t know what Sanji’s problem was, nor why he was so hung up on harassing you. As you bounce between tables and serve the customers, your mind keeps drifting back to Sanji against your will. You couldn’t stand him… but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him either.

The first time he said his honeyed words to you, your heart skipped a beat. You had never been the kind of person to garner attention, much less of the romantic variety. There were butterflies in your stomach and fanciful daydreams in your head about the possibilities your futures held together. But… then he went and ruined it and crushed your dreams. You felt like a fucking idiot for thinking that you were anything special because as it turns out, Sanji is a chronic flirt and treats every woman he sees like this.

Those sweet words held no more significance than a “hello” or “how are you” to him, but you were stupid enough to take them at face value and fall for his words hook, line, and sinker. It was ridiculous. Doubly so because of all the women he could have, why the fuck would he want you? All you are is some pathetic, ugly, boring nobody. Of course he didn’t actually mean what he said. You would give anything for his actions to actually mean something, for him to genuinely be interested in you, but that just wasn’t the case and it never would be.

What you really didn’t get was why he kept trying after the jig was up. He should have dropped you like a bad habit after you started rebuking his efforts, sometimes quite harshly, but he didn’t give up. Why he was still playing this game with you was beyond your understanding. Maybe he was just viewing your stubbornness as a conquest. A conquer to boast about once he accomplished his goal. You didn’t know, but you were hellbent on never giving him the satisfaction.

But dwelling on such drama was hardly going to get you anywhere. The only good thing that came of your introspection was that it carried you through the first part of your shift and to your lunch break. After finishing with your last table, you allow a different waiter to take over your section while you excuse yourself to enjoy your break.

You slip into the coat room to put on your jacket and grab the thermos you packed for today, then head for the exit so you can sit in your car for the duration of your break. While the Baratie did provide a breakroom for the staff, you preferred the peace and solitude that came from spending time in your vehicle instead. Just as your fingers are wrapping around the doorknob to twist it open, a voice cuts through the air, calling your name and bringing you to a halt.

The knob creaks softly as your hand tightens around it, but you take a deep breath and release it as you turn around, “What do you want now, Sanji?”

If he could pick up on the annoyance and bitterness in your tone, he blatantly ignored it. Instead, he beamed at you and closed the distance between you two in record time, “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I packed you a lunch today!” Sanji presented you with a small box that he then pried the lid off of to show off the contents inside.

The lunch looked like one of those classic bentos that you see when you watch anime. There are several rounded onigiri molded and decorated to look like pandas staring back at you. Crammed into the remaining space are some colorful vegetables as well as a thinly sliced cutlet of some sort with a small sauce container in the middle.

This was far from the first time that Sanji tried to pass off a lunch onto you. While they did always look and smell appealing, all that you could focus on was the negatives of it. The carbs, the deep fried meat, the vegetables that were coated in what was no doubt a calorically dense sauce. There were enough calories in this single lunch to carry you through the week, you’re sure of it. Your body would give out before you could ever work all of this off. And Sanji offered you this kind of shit damn near daily. It’s like he’s trying to make you fat.

Sanji’s face falls when you don’t say anything or make an attempt to take it, “Do you not like it? I can go make you something else if you want. Just tell me what you want and I’ll go make it right now.”

His persistence makes you cringe. How many times are you going to have to shoot him down before he actually listens to you and stops trying to give you food? You force a smile onto your face and hold up your thermos, “No… it, uh, it looks great, but I already have something to eat.”

“What do you have?”

Your eye twitches as he presses on, “Soup.”

For a moment, he just stares at you. The intensity of his gaze makes you shift uncomfortably. When he puts the lid back onto the bento, you feel a rush of relief, thinking that he was finally going to drop it and leave. But then he takes a step forward, his visible eye staring into your soul as he asks another question, “What kind?”

“W… What? Excuse me?”

“What kind of soup did you bring?”

The seriousness in his voice as he asked such a bizarre question made you laugh nervously, “What kind? What are you? The soup police?” You hope that the attempt at humor would diffuse the tense air and make him back off, but he just continues to stare at you expectantly. Your smile drops and twists into a scowl. “Why do you care? I’m just trying to take my break. Would you let me do that already?”

“... There’s just broth in there, right?” Sanji reaches inside his suit jacket for a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long drag of it, not giving a damn about the fact that he’s still in the building, “Or maybe green tea, though you usually use a different thermos for tea.”

What the fuck?

All you can do is stare at him as your blood runs cold. How did he know that? Your fingers tighten around the thermos that he correctly guessed the contents of. This was making you feel backed into a corner, and you could feel your temper starting to flare up. Why couldn't Sanji just mind his own damn business for once in his life?

“I don't see how this affects you. Just leave me the hell alone, okay? Get off my case.” Every word was spoken through clenched teeth as you tried desperately to keep from snapping at him and causing a scene. You whip around, intent on leaving so you can hide out in your car from him.

Before you can even grab hold of the doorknob, two arms wrap around your midsection and yank you back. A startled yelp escapes you as your back collides with Sanji's chest. For a moment, you're too stunned to even speak. He's always been touchy, but he's never crossed a line like this before. Your mind scrambles to figure out how to react when you feel one of his hands drift up and start rubbing up and down your ribcage as he nestles the side of his face against your hair.

“You're so thin… I can trace every single one of your ribs through your clothing. I know you're hungry; you have to be. Take the lunch I made for you, won't you, dear? I hate watching you waste away like this. You're breaking my heart.” His words are hushed, murmured so quietly that you doubt you would have been able to hear him had his lips not been directly next to your ear.

The worst part of this was the way his voice cracked in the last sentence. The foolish, naive part of your brain all but sang at this, desperately wanting to believe that someone cared about you. That someone wanted to see you get better and be happy. But then your rationality kicked back in. Sanji is just a player. He's only after one thing, and you know damn well that it isn't actually your heart. As soon as he gets what he wants, you'll be forgotten like every other woman that has come and gone in his life.

He's just playing the long con with you, and he's using some really fucked up tactics to try and win. Your lips curl into a snarl, and you spin within his hold and violently shove him away from you. Surprise flashes across his face as he stumbles and has to grab onto the coat rack to keep himself upright.

You want to scream at him. To cuss him out and ask how dare he try to manipulate and use you like this. But as tears burn at your eyes, you quickly retreat from the confrontation and run out of the building and to the sanctity of your car, locking the doors the second you get inside.

For a moment, all you can do is sit there in silence as you process everything that just happened. Your head drops onto the steering wheel as a quiet sob leaves your throat. Why you? Why does he insist on tormenting you? Why does he have to keep fucking with you like this? You haven't done anything to him to deserve this. It didn't make any sense as to why he was so focused on you. It's not like you're the prettiest waitress here. There are plenty of better options. Like literally anyone else. Maybe this is all one big joke to him… maybe he's just waiting for you to cave and say yes to him so he can laugh in your face for being stupid enough to think that he would ever actually want someone like you.

You wipe at your face aggressively as you lean back and reach for your phone to check the time. Much to your chagrin, ten of your thirty minutes have already been wasted. Great. You sniffle as you lift up your thermos to unscrew the lid. Then a thought strikes you.

How did Sanji know exactly what you had in here? He said it like it was just a guess, but what were the odds that it actually was? Did… Did he check it? Did he go through your locker and open your thermos? Why? What was he hoping to gain from doing that? Was he really just that nosey, or was he up to something?

Should you even be drinking this? You purse your lips and hesitate to take the lid off. What if he did something to it? Would he do something like that?

You decide to twist off the cap and look. You swirl the broth around in the thermos while scrutinizing it. It didn't look like he spit in it… and there didn't appear to be anything in there that shouldn't be…

Part of you still wanted to open the car door and dump it out regardless, but the other part was more hesitant to do that. You really didn't want to do the rest of your shift on a completely empty stomach. If it didn't have at least something in it, you knew you would get dizzy, and that's not something you can be when you're carrying trays loaded with food and drinks. Besides, it's not like you had proof that Sanji had tampered with this. Maybe it really had just been a lucky guess.

Tentatively, you take a sip. It doesn't taste off. You sigh deeply, then take another drink of it. There you go again being paranoid. Sanji’s persistence had just put you a little on edge, that's all. You're over thinking things.

The rest of your break is spent scrolling through your phone as you sip at your lunch. Periodically, your eyes glance up at the employee only door, half expecting to see Sanji standing there and watching you, but you fortunately never see him. You can only hope that you shoving him finally got the point across.

When your break is over, you leave your car and trudge back to the restaurant, shivering slightly in the crisp, early winter air. You pry the door open and slip inside, hanging up your coat and haphazardly tossing your now empty thermos and phone into your locker before power walking past the kitchen and into the dining room, hoping to avoid potentially catching the sous chef's eye should he not be as put off as you were hoping.

Just as you're entering the main room, your head starts to spin. Shit. The power walking was too much, wasn't it? As covertly as you can, you shrink back and lean against the wall, waiting for your vision to clear. Dizzy spells aren't anything new for you.

Your hand comes up to rub at your eyes as you try to will yourself to recover faster. Fuck… you feel so lightheaded. Are you going to faint? It's not usually this bad at work.

“(Y/N)? Are you feeling alright?”

The gruff voice of your boss snaps you out of your fog. You cringe as you look up and see Zeff standing in front of you with his arms crossed. Well then, this was humiliating. Having him see you slacking off right after your break was not something you wanted to happen. In an attempt to save face, you force yourself to stand up straight, “E-Everything’s fine, sir! Nothing to worry about here!”

You push yourself away from the wall, fully intending to hightail it into the dining area to try and spare yourself from his wrath, but your dizzy spell hadn’t passed at all yet. Your knees buckle and your vision swirls from the sudden movement, and the next thing you know, you fall right into Zeff. His arms uncross and his hands clamp onto your shoulders to keep you from falling to the floor. Your ears are ringing, and you can only vaguely make out what he’s saying. Something about “taking it easy”?

Through your disoriented state, you can recognize that you’re being moved, practically carried, by your boss. If you were in a better state, you’re sure that your face would be flush with shame. You can feel yourself being lowered onto a chair. Even with you now being seated, Zeff kept one hand on your shoulder to keep you upright. He turned and called out across the kitchen, “Eggplant, bring some water over here!”

Eggplant? Oh no. Not him. You try to sit up straighter and make yourself look more put together, “No, I’m okay. You don’t have to-”

“Quiet. Don’t give me any of that. You almost fainted out there, you clearly aren’t ‘okay’,” Zeff’s tone was firm and left no room for argument.

“(Y/N) almost fainted?!” Sanji rushed over and shoved the glass of water he had into Zeff’s hand before dropping to his knees at your side. His hand clutched yours tightly as he stared into your eyes with a distraught look on his face. “My sweet (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

Any attempts to dislodge his hands prove fruitless, you can’t break his hold. You purse your lips and avert your eyes, not wanting to look at his expression that is so convincing that you almost believe it. “I said that I’m fine. I just got a little lightheaded. It’ll pass in a minute.” Despite your words, you don’t actually feel any better even though you’re sitting down and resting now.

Zeff sighs at your words and brings the glass of water to your lips for you since your hands are still locked in Sanji’s death grip. You drink the cool water, but it doesn’t feel like it’s really helping anything. He pulls the glass away and stares at you hard for a moment before speaking, “You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“What?”

“It’s a slow night, the remaining waitstaff here will be more than enough to cover for you. I don’t want you working in this state, you’re just going to hurt yourself or one of the customers if you have another dizzy spell while you’re carrying something. Just go home and rest.” Zeff turns his head to look directly at Sanji, “Why don’t you give her a ride home?”

Panic surges through your veins, “N-No! I can drive myself home, that’s okay!”

The look that Zeff gives you is hard and makes you shut up instantly, “Don’t start. You’re going to get into an accident if you try to drive right now. Like I just said, it’s slow. We can afford to lose Sanji for the day. The kitchen will probably run smoother anyway.”

Sanji grumbles at that last comment, but for once, he doesn’t pounce at the opportunity to argue with his old man. Instead, he stands up and flashes you with a warm smile, “I’ll go pull my car up so you don’t have to walk as far. Just wait right here for me.” He leans down to kiss your hand before releasing it and leaving. You hate the way your heart fluttered at the simple display. Stupid heart falling for bullshit actions.

While you wait, you sigh and slump back in the chair. Zeff had excused himself and exited the kitchen right after Sanji, presumably to let your coworkers know you weren’t coming back from your break today. The rest of the people in the kitchen were going about their job, but you caught a few of them sparing you concerned glances which only added to your embarrassment over the whole situation. You’re glad that you happen to have tomorrow off to help give them an extra day to forget about this ordeal.

The kitchen doors open again, and Sanji walks through them, wearing a light jacket and carrying yours. He helps you put on your coat, then pulls you to your feet. Almost immediately, your legs wobble and you instinctively latch onto him for support. What is going on with you? You’ve never had one of your dizzy spells hit you this hard. Before you can even begin to steady yourself and try again, you’re abruptly swept off your feet. The quick motion makes your head spin so much that it takes you a moment to register what is happening to you.

Mortification washes over you as you realize that Sanji just scooped you up into a bridal carry right in front of the entire kitchen. You squirm in his arms while uttering out weak protests as Sanji casually kicks open the swinging doors to the kitchen and walks out, seemingly completely unbothered by carrying you. You look up at him as your vision rapidly becomes more and more hazy. His expression is completely relaxed as if nothing is wrong.

His apparent confidence wasn’t spread to you, however. Something about this felt… wrong. You’ve never felt like this before, and you were starting to get scared. What if this was something more serious than you previously thought? Were you having a medical emergency right now?

As Sanji is placing you into the passenger seat of his car, you grab onto his arm while he’s trying to buckle your seatbelt, “Sanji… I don’t feel good.”

The smile that had been plastered onto his face since Zeff told him to take you home softened into a warmer, more comforting smile. He finishes buckling you in and strokes your hair, “I know, but don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”

“N… No,” your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, making speaking even harder. “Hos… pital.”

The seat you’re in is reclined so that you’re laying down. Sanji stands up straight. You can feel that he’s looking at you, but your vision is so blurry that you can’t make out his face anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge your request to go to the hospital. He closes the door, and everything goes black before he can walk around and open his own.

—

When your consciousness begins to flow back into you, you find yourself in the warm comfort of your bed. You sigh in contentment and lazily nuzzle your face into your pillow. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt heavenly on your skin.

…

… Silk?

Didn’t you have some cheap microfiber sheets on your bed? You sniff at the pillow and frown. You know for a fact that your bedding doesn’t smell like men’s cologne and tobacco.

Your senses come back to you in an instant as you lurch up into a sitting position. Your eyes frantically take in your surroundings, and dread fills your being. You’re in a small bedroom. There are several bookshelves lining the walls. A chair with a small side table are placed near them like some sort of simple reading nook. There’s a desk against the wall opposite of you with a laptop sitting on it.

You don’t recognize this room. It isn’t yours, and this definitely isn’t a hospital.

Looking down, you take in the bed you’re in. It’s a queen size bed that’s been pushed into the corner of the room, with you being on the side closest to the wall. A body pillow is placed against the wall, keeping you separated from it. Several blankets are piled on top of you. You raise your arms to throw off the blankets, but something halts your movement.

Your hands jerk back abruptly, making you wince as something tugs on your wrists and the headboard clangs behind you. You look down, and what you see makes your blood run cold.

Handcuffs. There are padded handcuffs locked around each of your wrists. Your eyes follow the chains all the way back to the headboard. Oh fuck.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

You’re going to die. You’re going to die here! Horror encompasses you fully as the gravity of your situation. Where even were you? And who did this? What kind of a monster could do something like this to you?

Think! Where were you before you passed out? It takes a moment for your memory to return to you but when it does, everything clicks into place. Sanji. You were in Sanji’s car. Did he do this? Sure, he could be a little sleazy, but you never took him for a kidnapper. And why you? What was his fucking obsession with you? What was he going to do to you?

No. You weren’t going to die like this. You weren’t going to let yourself be toyed with, murdered, and discarded by your sick freak of a coworker! Maybe you can break yourself free if you could just snap the wood you’re chained to. The chains connecting you to the headboard are long, permitting a wide range of motion to you. You’ll put your feet against the headboard and pull as hard as you can.

With a plan in mind, you shift to pull your legs up, but again, your movements are halted. You grab the blankets and yank them up only to reveal the very same handcuffs around your ankles. Experimentally, you pull on them. The footboard barely even budges. These chains are much shorter than the ones on your wrists, not giving you any chance to build up any sort of momentum. Just like that, your hope dies.

As you’re sitting there, completely demoralized, you take note of something else. You aren’t wearing your work clothes anymore. Instead, you’ve been dressed in a cozy pajama set. Even your regular socks have been replaced with fuzzy ones.

Shame and disgust courses through you upon realizing that you had been undressed while you were unconscious. At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel confused. It’s not like you’ve ever been kidnapped before, but this didn’t seem normal. Whenever you would hear about true crime cases covering people being abducted, you never heard about the kidnapper putting them in comfy clothes and a warm bed.

What the hell was going on?

You’re torn from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Your head snaps up and you instinctively press yourself back against the headboard. Your eyes lock onto the door and you stare at it like a scared, cornered animal. Which is pretty much exactly what you are.

The door opens, and your theory as to who it was is confirmed instantly. Sanji’s smiling face enters the room, filling you with a combination of anger and fear. His grin widens even more as his eyes land on you, “Oh good, you’re awake. That’s perfect.” He hums happily and walks over to the bed with absolutely no sense of urgency. He sets a steaming bowl down on the bedside table as his eyes run over your body. “That’s no good, you’re going to get cold, sweetheart.” He calmly pulls the blankets back over you, then moves the pillows on the bed so that they’re behind your back.

You cringe away from him as his hands brush against your back, and you snap at him, “Don’t touch me!”

Sanji’s smile droops and morphs into a pout, “Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I’m just trying to make you more comfortable.”

The way that he is blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room was really pissing you off. “Comfortable? Comfortable?! You know what would make me more comfortable?! Not being fucking kidnapped!”

Your kidnapper has the audacity to sigh at you. “I’m doing this for your own good. You forced my hand. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What are you talking about?! Of course you had a choice! You could have chosen not to kidnap me!”

“You had a choice, too. It didn’t have to be this way, you know?” By now, his smile is completely gone. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and slips one into his mouth before lighting it.

His casual demeanor only further fueled your ire, “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“I said that you also had a choice,” he exhales smoke into the air. “If you would have just taken that lunch I made for you, we wouldn’t have had to take this route.”

“What?”

“If you would have eaten the lunch that I made for you, you wouldn’t have drank the broth, and you never would have gotten so dizzy that you had to go home.” You freeze as his words sink in. “We could have done things the easy way, but you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you? But that’s okay. I think that this is for the better. Now I can monitor your recovery much more closely than I could have if we were apart.”

“You drugged me…” The words are little more than a whisper.

“Don’t put it like that, you’re making me sound like a scoundrel. A predator, even! I just… gave you something to help bring us together so I can take care of you. This is what you need. You’ve made it clear that you can’t take care of yourself on your own.”

Your fists clutch at the blankets covering you as you hiss at him, “Take care of me? You’ve got a really twisted way of going about doing that. How is this helping me?”

“This is helping you because I’m going to nurse you back to health. I know that you’ve been starving yourself. Everyone can tell. You’re wasting away right before us and making everyone watch as you slowly and painfully kill yourself.” Sanji’s voice cracks and he drops his head. Your eyes drift down when you hear the quiet drip drip drip of tears falling onto the duvet. “Do you have any idea how much it’s hurt me? You’re killing me just as much as yourself.”

One of Sanji’s hands reaches out and cups your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eye again. Forcing you to fully take in the state he’s in. There is so much pain and despair in his eyes. He looks absolutely miserable. This isn’t an act. He isn’t fucking with you. He means every single word coming out of his mouth. His thumb rubbed against your cheek, just beneath your sunken eye as he holds your face just a little too tightly. He speaks again in a choked-up, desperate tone, “I love you so much, (Y/N). I don’t want to watch you die.”

All you can do is stare at him as your mind runs at a thousand miles a second to try and process all of the information being thrown at it. Wasn’t this… what you wanted? Proof that Sanji actually cared about you. That you weren’t just a conquest, but a legitimate desire. He says he loves you, and you genuinely don’t think you can argue against that, but…

Not like this. This isn’t how you wanted this to happen. You wanted a heartfelt confession, but not when you were cuffed to his bed after being drugged and kidnapped. This was insane. He was insane. And you were trapped with him.

Sanji releases your face and clears his throat as he pulls back with a forced smile, “Apologies. Look at me getting all emotional when I’m supposed to be caring for you.” He plucked the bowl off the nightstand and started to stir the mixture together. “I made some congee for you. I thought that this would be a nice and filling meal for your poor stomach.”

The mention of food made you recoil, and not just for the usual reason. You glare at Sanji and ask, “What’s in it?”

He beams at the question, “Well, I cooked the rice in a dashi broth- homemade of course- and I’ve got some salmon and-”

You interrupt him, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What did you put in my food this time?”

Realization flashes across his face and he sags, “It’s just food, my love. I promise that I won’t drug you again. I just had to do it that one time so I could get you here.”

“Do you expect me to believe that? To trust you after what you’ve done?”

“Please, (Y/N), you have to believe me. Did you not hear everything I just said? I’m doing this for your own good. I can’t help you get better if you’re unconscious the whole time. Just calm down and let me feed you before your food gets cold.” While he started off sounding sweet and pleading, his voice became progressively more firm as he went on. With a quiet huff, he sits down on the empty bed space next to you and scoops out a spoonful of the rice porridge.

Terrified of being drugged and vulnerable again, your hand swipes at him, just barely missing the spoon as he jerks back. Surprise flashes across his face, but quickly morphs into a scowl. He drops the spoon back into the bowl, then grabs your face again. You start to struggle, but you’re no match for his strength in your current state.

“Stop.” The one word is spoken with so much force that it actually makes you stop and stare at him with wide eyes. He sighs deeply and his teeth grind against his cigarette as he makes himself calm down. “(Y/N). My dear, sweet (Y/N). I went out of my way to give you handcuffs that were long enough for you to move around for your comfort, but if you try to stop me from feeding you again, I’m going to change them out for much shorter ones that won’t let you move at all. Is that what you want?”

You shake your head and cower back.

“Good. I don’t want that either. Now say ‘ah’ for me, alright?” Just like that, he switches again, sweetly crooning at you as he brings the spoon back to your lips.

As much as you don’t want to eat it… you don’t want to be even more restricted than you already are. Hesitantly, you open your mouth. Sanji’s smile widens as he quickly pushes the spoon past your lips. The savory porridge fills your mouth and, admittedly, tastes divine. It’s the best thing you’ve had in months… maybe even years.

You carefully chew, then swallow it. The voice in the back of your head is going crazy, screaming over all of the carbs and fat in that one single bite. But before you can dwell on it too much, another spoonful is brought to your lips. Your eyes flit up to Sanji who is looking at you with an expectant smile.

Well… you suppose that your food intake is no longer in your power. You have to eat if you want to keep Sanji happy and passive. You open your mouth again.

“Good, there’s my good girl.” Sanji looks happier than you think you’ve ever seen him. His smile lacks the playful edge it usually has to it, and his normally aloof eyes are relaxed in a way that makes him look almost soft despite the situation. “I know that you’re upset, and I understand that. This is all very shocking to you, but one day, you’re going to thank me for this. I guarantee it.”

“Honestly, you should have seen this coming. At the Baratie, we feed everyone who is hungry. Even if they don’t necessarily want us to.”

#one piece x reader #yandere one piece #sanji x reader #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #red leg zeff #yandere #x reader #reader insert #tw anorexia #tw eating disorder

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