#i keep writing these two just. sitting in silence huh

[sceletaflores]

all's fair in love and viscera...

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader wc: 6.7k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, violence, blood, gore (more so thoughts of gore) nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, fighting as foreplay, bleeding as foreplay, written with X2 logan in mind, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), finger sucking hehehe, light choking, hair pulling, blood play, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, scent kink, pain kink, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: i have a rotting note that says "logan spar fic turned face sitting" so that's what this is but it kinda got a little weird lol i also just wanted an excuse to write more about the mutant ability that's been bopping around in my brain since watching season four of the boys. kisses!

logan wants to spar...

You can smell him before he even opens the door to the training room.

It’s funny, because almost all blood smells the exact same. It melds into one coppery, metallic tang that stings your nose everywhere you go.

Mutant blood is only slightly different, something sharper with a tartness that lingers in the air longer, that tingles along the edge of your senses and burns the back of your throat.

Logan's blood is something entirely different.

The first time you met him it almost brought you to your knees. It was so overwhelming, the smell swarming you so intoxicating and all encompassing that it made you feel dizzy.

Logan’s blood is a wild mix of earthy musk and something like charred wood. His scent carries an electric charge, like the smell of air right before a thunderstorm, like ozone after a lightning strike.

It's like nothing you've ever encountered before—hot and acidic, with a barely there underlying sweetness that never fails to turn your insides to liquid. It seems to defy normalcy, bending the rules of what you know about blood and biology.

You know in the back of your mind that it's the adamantium. It's been fused to his skeleton for so long, it must be something chemical. A reaction happening in his body that makes it so distinctly different.

Part of you likes to think that it's just Logan, that the scent is a reflection of everything he is. The raw, untamed essence of his nature, something primal that’s deeply ingrained in his being.

The door creaks open behind you, you make it a point to keep your focus on the punching bag. You've been here for hours, your arms only finally starting to burn with exertion. The bag feels solid and grounding under your taped knuckles, swinging lightly with every hit.

Logan's heavy footsteps get closer and closer, echoing through the empty room until he's striding past you to lean against the wall next to the bag's rig.

You don't look at him, but you can feel his gaze—an intense, almost palpable thing.

“Figured you’d be down here,” Logan's voice is the familiar rough and gravelly rumble you've become used to, cutting through the silence between the two of you with a barely there teasing edge. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Logan has an even better sense of smell than you do, and he can sniff out a lot more than blood. You're sure he knew you were here this whole time, that he could smell you from his room two stories up.

You give a small, noncommittal grunt, ignoring him as you throw another punch. Sweat is dotted across your hairline, it drips down the small of your back and the column of your throat. It's not that you don't like Logan, that you don’t want him here, you have the complete opposite of that problem.

You like Logan too much, more than you should.

Every time he’s near, you’re intensely aware of how much his presence affects you, of the way all the blood in your body starts to sizzle under your skin with a throbbing need that's getting harder and harder to ignore. It’s like a constant, low-grade fever that only flares up when he gets too close. 

“Come on, kid. You can’t ignore me all night,” he says, thick arms crossing over his chest. "Don't make me beg."

You let out a breath, more exasperated than anything else, and finally turn to face him. Logan’s standing there, all broad shoulders and rugged confidence in his white tank and gray sweats, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

That smirk—it's almost as dangerous as the claws hidden just underneath his skin.

“Didn’t know you were the begging type.” Your attempt to sound casual is overpowered by the slight breathy edge of your voice. You blame it on the workout.

Logan's smirk widens just a fraction, and you can tell he's caught the hitch in your voice. His eyes, sharp and knowing, narrow in on you with that familiar mix of amusement and something you can't quite place, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Only when I really want something," he replies easily.

Your form falters, just barely, but it’s enough for Logan to notice. You can hear the amused huff he lets out.

You throw another punch at the bag, more to steady yourself than anything else. The impact reverberates through your knuckles, but it doesn't do much to dispel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

"Back to ignoring me?" he asks, needling. You can see the raise of his brow in your peripheral vision.

“Trying to,” you mutter under your breath, though it's more to yourself than to him. You keep your gaze locked firmly on the bag, willing your pulse to steady.

"What's that?" he leans in closer, his scent wafting over to you as he does. Somehow stronger than before, an assault on your senses. You barely conceal a shiver.

"It’s not my fault you’re here when I'm at my least chatty," you retort blandly, a little louder, willing your voice to sound as steady as it can.

"Looks to me like you’re always at your least chatty,” he shoots back, not showing any signs of backing down.

"It's late,” you reply tersely.

"Yeah," he says. "It is late."

The words hang in the air, laced with a double meaning that neither of you acknowledges.

"Too late to be up hounding the bags like they owe you money," he adds, the tone of his voice almost gentle in a way that catches you off guard. Nothing like the Logan you're used to.

“Yeah, well,” you grunt, throwing a particularly sharp jab. “Some of us don’t need all the beauty sleep."

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, you can feel the vibration of it in your bones. "Funny," he muses to himself, voice going quiet like he's turning your words over in his mind. "I can see why Charles keeps you around."

You huff, sweaty brows knitting together in frustration. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“Babysit?” He smirks, clearly amused. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Your resolve finally cracks, your fists sore when you drop them to your sides and turn to Logan with a questioning look on your face.

"What do you want, Logan?”

It sounds harsher than you meant it, rough and exasperated as you start to catch your breath for the first time since he walked in.

Logan doesn't respond, just pushes off the wall to step closer. His scent hits you like a truck now that your focus is solely on him, you can feel your blood start to thrum under your veins. The sweat dripping down your back feels like it’s igniting the tension in your body, and Logan’s only making it worse the closer he gets.

He stops a little less than a foot away from you. It’s too close, he evades your space until all you can see is him. The width of his shoulders, the strong muscle of his chest and torso filling your view.

Logan doesn't say anything for a few beats, just stares down at you with a studying look on his face. It's a struggle to keep still under the intensity of his gaze. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythmic thud loud in your ears as the silence stretches between you.

He tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as he trails them over your sweaty face. You're seconds away from saying something, from turning and running with your tail between your legs, when he beats you to it.

He lets out an amused scoff, shaking his head as he walks past you to the large blue training mat in the middle of the room.

"C'mon," he calls over his shoulder, "Try hitting something that hits back, might help clear your head."

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but Logan’s already made his way to the center of the mat, turning to face you with a challenging glint in his eye.

You shake your head slowly, not moving from your place across the room. "I don't want to fight you."

Logan chuckles wryly, “Could’ve fooled me, sweetheart.”

The nickname sends a jolt through you, your pulse skipping in response. It’s always the way he says it—rough around the edges but with a softness that’s almost affectionate. You clench your fists tight, as if the simple act of it will keep your thoughts in check.

"Think you can keep up?" he teases, rolling his shoulders in that casual, self-assured way of his. But there's something in his tone, a challenge that makes you want to prove yourself.

You cast your eyes to the ceiling, exasperated, a bemused laugh bubbling from your chest as you do. "You know I can," you reply, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. "This isn't about that."

You should just say no. You should say no and go back up to your room so you can go to bed and forget all about this in the morning. You can barely stand to be in the same room with Logan for more than thirty minutes at a time, training with him is too much of a risk.

"What's it about then? You scared?" Logan's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a playful smirk curling his lips. He raises an eyebrow, daring you to join him.

That does it. A spark of defiance flares in your chest, overriding the nervous tension that’s been building since he walked in. You’re not one to back down from a fight, especially when Logan's practically begging for one.

Without thinking, you stride over to the mat.

Logan watches you approach, his stance relaxed but ready, like a predator sizing up its prey. You try your best to ignore the smug look on his face as you kick off your shoes and join him.

"Not scared," you shrug, running your fingers over the tape on your knuckles. "I just don't need you getting all pissy when I win." You roll your shoulders, shake out your arms, and square up, focusing on the way Logan’s eyes are locked on yours.

Logan's grin widens, a flash of sharp teeth that makes your pulse quicken. "We'll see about that."

You drop into a ready stance, the tension in your muscles coiled tight like a spring. For a moment, neither of you moves, just sizing each other up. The silence between you stretches taut like a bowstring. Your eyes lock onto Logan's, each of you reading the other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The air between you feels like it's vibrating, charged with a mix of tension, anticipation, and something else—something unspoken, simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, in a blur of motion, Logan makes the first move, just like you expected him to. He lunges, fast and strong, but you're ready for him, sidestepping the blow and bringing your forearm up to deflect his fist away from your body.

"Slow start, old man?" you quip, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you regain your footing. "Speed isn't what it used to be?"

Logan chuckles, a low and throaty sound. "Just warming up, sweetheart. Don't want you crying unfair when I take you down too quick."

You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically before launching your own attack. You swing a swift roundhouse kick aimed at his midsection. He anticipates the move, catching your ankle with one hand while his other reaches out to grab your wrist.

But you're quicker. Using the momentum, you twist your body and slip free from his grasp, landing lightly back on your feet a few steps away. The brief contact sends a jolt up your leg, his touch searing even through the thick layer of your sweats.

"Stop holding back," you say roughly, your lips turned down in a displeased frown. "Hit me."

Logan's eyes flash with amusement. "Careful what you wish for."

He advances again, this time more aggressive. He throws a combination of punches—left, right, left—each one precise and controlled. You block the first two, but the third grazes past your defenses, skimming your rib cage hard enough to sting.

You hiss softly at the impact but don't back down. Instead, you duck low and sweep your leg out in a wide arc, aiming to knock him off balance. Logan slides back just in time, your foot swiping through empty air as he evades the attack with a kind of brute grace that you wouldn’t expect.

"Getting fancy now?" he remarks, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

You don't respond, springing to your feet with a raised fist in a swift uppercut. This time you connect, your knuckles catching his stubbled jaw with a loud 'crack'. Your whole hand throbs, you can feel the break in your thumb snap back together in a sharp pinch.

Logan stumbles back a step, his head snapping to the ceiling with the force of your hit. When he turns back to you, there's a large bruise blooming along the sharp cut of his jaw. You watch the color of it spread across his skin, angry reds and dull purples that fade as fast as they appear.

There's a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he meets your gaze. The brown of them darker than before, his pupils blown out and glossy in a way you've never seen.

With a low growl, he comes at you again, faster this time. His movements a blur of muscle and intent. You manage to block the first hit, but not the second, his fist catches your side with enough power to make you stumble back a few steps. Pain flares white hot through your ribs, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the fight. The world narrows down to the two of you, the sound of your breaths and the feel of his skin brushing against yours in fleeting moments of contact.

There's a thrill in it, in the way you challenge each other, in the way you push past your own boundaries.

But there's also something more, something deeper. Every time your eyes lock, you can feel the electricity between you, the way your heart skips a beat, the way your breath catches in your throat. It's not just about the fight anymore. 

You feel more alive than you have in a long time. More alive with every sting of each new blow, with the way your muscles burn, with the stray hairs that stick to your forehead.

The heat between you is almost tangible, mixing with the sweat and exertion. Every punch, every block, sends a jolt of adrenaline through your system, making it both exhilarating and maddening.

The scent of him—earthy, electric, and utterly intoxicating—growing stronger with every second. Your senses are on high alert, every part of you tuned in to his presence.

It wraps around your whole being, making it hard to think straight. But you don’t need to think—you just move, letting your instincts take over.

Logan feints to the left and uses it to sweep your legs out from under you in the same move he mocked you for. Your back hits the floor with a hard thud, the give of the mat not doing much to soften the hardwood underneath.

All the breath in your lungs rushes out of you in a sharp gasp. Before you can recover, Logan is looming over you. He cages your body under his own, thick arms on either side of your head, his weight pressing you further into the floor. His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low, almost growling murmur.

"Gotcha."

You try to come up with a witty comment, a snarky line, a petty insult. Anything at all really—but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you just stare up at him, your chest heaving violently, your heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

The whole room feels like it’s spinning, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the intensity in Logan’s eyes, the heat of him against you.

Suddenly, your entire body feels like it's on fire. Phantom flames lapping at every inch of your skin that send your head reeling quicker than you can blink. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but you've only ever felt it outside of a mission once, and it didn't end well.

For a few heart stopping seconds, you're more than confused. Panic starts to set in at the thought of having another "accident" and not even knowing what's triggering it.

Through the messy haze of your panic, you finally see it. The tiny cut above Logan's brow leaking a thin trail of red down the side of his face.

Everything around you dissolves into static, your eyes zeroing in on that single bead of crimson. The cut's long gone by the time it drips from his jaw to the mat right next to your shoulder. Logan's skin stitching back together and leaving no trace that it was ever broken in the first place, but it doesn't matter.

The damage is already done, and you can feel your body start to react.

You can feel your resolve crumbling, the edges of your self-control fraying with every passing second. Your own blood pulses beneath your skin like liquid fire as your stomach churns and twists. The intense need to feel, to taste, to take claws at your throat.

You let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, as you lose the last of your control.

Hank had called it a frenzy, but that wasn't a technical term.

"You're not in your right mind. You've essentially been conditioned to react strongly to the scent and sight of blood, particularly when you're already in a heightened emotional or physical state. The combination of adrenaline, exertion, and the scent triggers this...well, this 'frenzy' for lack of a better term."

It's like you blackout, and when you wake up, you're straddling Logan's chest with your hand wrapped around his throat in a vice-like grip. The tan column of his throat glowing red beneath your hand, a map of blue veins inked along his skin like spiderwebs as you watch the blood pulse through them.

Your grip tightens instinctively, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to reign in the storm swirling inside you. Everything narrows down to the pounding in your ears, the blazing heat of Logan's skin under your fingers, and the urge to let go, to give in.

Logan's voice starts to trickle in around the static buzzing in your ears, your name falling from his lips sounds strained, but there's a calmness to it. The fog of your instincts begins to fade, the world around you slowly starting to piece back together.

You blink, the haze in your mind clearing as you try to focus on his face, the way his eyes are locked onto yours. Intense, but not clouded with fear like you expected.

Your chest heaves with every breath, ragged and short like they're being ripped out of your lungs. Your wide eyes dropping to where your hand is still locked around his throat, panic surges in your chest like ice freezing over a lake.

But before you can do anything, Logan's reaching up, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grip. His thumb brushes over your pulse point—the touch sends a jolt through you, as if he’s touched a live wire.

“Don't,” he says, like he knows what you're thinking, his voice a rough whisper. The rasp of it vibrates against your hand. “Don't stop now."

Logan’s other hand comes up to rest on your hips, his touch firm but not forceful. He doesn’t try to wrestle control away from you; instead, he holds you steady. His fingers dig into your skin, grounding you.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. “I can take it. Give it to me.”

The world around you blurs, your focus entirely on the man beneath you, the way his body feels under your hands, the way he’s willingly surrendering to your control.

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. You search his eyes, dark and full of want. There's a heat there, a spark that crackles between you, and it only adds fuel to your fire.

If he wants to push, you're ready to push back.

Silently, you slide your hand up the expanse of his throat, feeling the way his pulse beats strong and fast under your palm. The glow under his skin dissipates as you make your way up, tracing your fingers over his jaw and up to his bottom lip.

Logan’s breathing is rapid, his chest rising and falling under you quicker than before. His lips are slick and red, parted so enticingly that you can help but slide your index finger over them. Your nail digs into the fat of his bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to let him feel it.

Logan lets you toy with him, meets your gaze head on as you push further. Your finger presses deeper, pushing past the seam of his lips to feel the warmth of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue against your skin.

The sharp bite of Logan's teeth pinches your skin as he closes his lips around your finger and sucks.

Your breath catches in your throat, heat blooming in your core as his tongue brushes over the pad of your finger. You can feel the ache of your cunt between your legs, arousal leaking wet and sticky in your panties.

Your other hand rises up to rest on the side of his face, your fingers grazing over his cheekbone. The touch feather-light but filled with a fierce, unspoken energy. Logan’s breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening even further.

Your palm splays over the skin of his cheek, the heat of his face seeping into your hand. Logan’s eyes close for a moment, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he tilts his head into your touch.

In a quick move, you dig your fingernails into the fat of his cheek roughly. Logan’s body arches under you, his back snapping off the mat with guttural groan ripping from his chest as you pierce his skin.

You gasp at the scent of him wafting up through the air, at the feeling of his teeth digging into your own flesh. His blood leaking onto the tips of your fingers feels like a shock to your system, both electrifying and terrifying.

His skin glows even brighter than before. A mix of reds and oranges that light up just beneath his skin, the blue of his veins like rivers on a map. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, drawing more blood, the warm, sticky liquid coating your fingers. You watch, mesmerized, as the glow under his skin pulses in response, as if feeding off your energy, amplifying the connection between you.

Logan’s breath hitches, his body tensing beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

it takes barely any energy from you. The faintest traces of your power used for something none of those demented scientists in white lab coats intended.

None of that matters. All that matters is the raw, animalistic connection between you—the way his body is responding to your touch, the way his eyes shine with want, the way his blood sings in harmony with yours.

You could boil Logan alive in less than a second, burst every vessel and capillary in his body until he's nothing more than a copper stain on the floor. But his hands only tighten their grip on your waist to drag you impossibly closer.

"More," Logan growls, his voice vibrating against your palm as his teeth sink a little deeper into your finger, the heat of his breath searing against your skin. He hooks his hands under your thighs, dragging your body up his chest until your legs are spread on either side of his head. 

Your hands fly to his hair, steadying yourself with two fist fulls of the brown tufts that sit atop his head. You’ve always been curious if Logan styles his hair this way on purpose, or if it just grows like that naturally. You don't have time to ponder it for long before he's letting out another ragged groan and burying his face between your thighs.

You can feel the heat of his breath over the clothed expanse of your cunt, his nose trailing along the inseam of your sweats as he inhales greedy lungfuls of your scent.

"Logan," you gasp, voice gone high and breathy around the edges.

"Tell me what you want," he says lowly, his lips brushing over you with every word.

It's muffled slightly, but the demand in his tone still sends a shock through you. Your grip on his hair tightens as your mind falls into a whirl of sensations and emotions you couldn't possibly confront.

He presses a heated kiss against the fabric of your sweats, right over where your aching clit pulses with need. The sensation sends an electric jolt straight through your core. Your whole body hums with an intense craving, a need that burns hot and fierce.

"Tell me," he repeats, his voice a rough rasp that vibrates against your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as you try to form a coherent thought, let alone speak.

"I want..." you start, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and desire. The words are there, lodged in your throat, but saying them out loud feels like crossing a line you’re not sure you’re ready to cross.

"I need you,” you breathe out, the confession slipping from your lips like a secret finally set free “I need everything.”

Logan’s eyes flare with something fierce and wild. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his hands surging up to tear through the fabric of your clothes like it's nothing but tissue paper. The tattered remains of your panties and sweats pool to the floor in a crumpled mess.

The heat of his breath is replaced by the pressure of his mouth, his tongue sliding through the wet slit of your cunt. He lets out a filthy groan at the first real taste of you, the flat of his tongue lapping eagerly through your dripping slit.

The thrill of his mouth against your most sensitive spots sends a jolt through your entire body, your back arching taut as you grip his hair even tighter. Logan’s groan reverberates through you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.

Logan is relentless, devouring you like he’s been starving for this, starving for you. The wet sounds of his mouth working you over mix with your breathless whimpers and the low growls rumbling from his chest. He works his tongue expertly, tracing every inch of you, mapping out every spot that makes you tremble and moan.

Your thighs tighten around his head, hips grinding against his face almost unintentionally as heat starts coiling tight in your belly. The scruff of his jaw rubs against the sensitive skin of your thighs with each drag of his head, the sting of it just adds to the assault of pleasure. You wish he could leave his mark on you, wish that your skin wouldn’t work overtime to fix the angry red blotches of raw skin he leaves in his wake.

Logan grips you hard enough that you can see the bruises decorating your skin every time you look down. His arms firm and strong where they’re locked around your thighs to keep you pressed against his mouth. His nose bumps against your throbbing clit each time he fucks his tongue into your leaking cunt.

“Logan,” you moan, your voice a breathy plea that only seems to spur him on. He flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a harsh pull that makes you cry out, your whole body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he murmurs against you, the words muffled by the slickness of your folds. “Could eat you all night.”

“Logan, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, sending you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your entire body convulsing with the force of it as you cry out his name, your nails digging into his scalp as you hold on.

Logan doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. He licks you through your release, his mouth working you over with a single-minded intensity that has you writhing against him, overstimulated and desperate for more.

“Fuck, Logan, please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re begging for, just knowing you need something, anything to ease the ache that’s still throbbing deep inside you.

Logan pulls back just enough to look up at you, the bottom of his face slick with your arousal, eyes dark with a hunger that matches your own. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of you.

Logan’s hands slide up your thighs, his touch gentle now but still impossibly firm. He trails his fingers along your skin, tracing the sensitive lines where your skin starts to heal the damage he left behind.

“Still with me?” he asks, his voice is softer than before but there’s still an unmistakable rough edge coating his words.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you try to collect yourself. “Yeah...I’m here.”

“Good,” he growls softly, his hands squeezing the sore skin of your hips. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You’re on your back in less than a second, Logan flipping your positions so fast it has your head spinning. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, all sharp teeth and bruising pressure. 

It’s a kiss that feels like a fight, like a challenge, like a promise of something much darker and more consuming just beneath the surface. His stubble scrapes against your skin, adding to the raw, visceral feeling of it all. Your teeth clack together violently, you can taste the faint coppery tang of blood on his lips. 

You kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring all the pent-up frustration, all the desire, all the fear and anger and need into the contact between you. Your hands are everywhere, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, his back—needing to feel him, to mark him, to claim him as yours in a way that’s as undeniable as the blood pulsing through your veins.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to fill the ache that’s building inside you. Logan grinds against you, his hard cock still trapped in the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your spit soaked cunt. You can’t help the desperate whimper that escapes your throat. “Please, Logan,” you gasp out against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “Fuck me, I need it, please–.” 

He growls low in his throat, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. 

You nod frantically, your hips bucking up against him darkens the fabric tent of his bottoms. He feels huge, heavy and hot where he pushes against your slick folds. “Yes, please, just—” Logan doesn’t let you finish. 

With a swift, almost feral move, he pushes the hem of his sweats down roughly, the sound of seams ripping rings through the room. You barely have time to gasp before he’s pushing his cock into you, stretching you wide, filling you so completely that all you can do is cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he immediately sets a relentless pace. 

You don’t have any time to adjust to the thick length of his cock carving its way inside of you, the sting of it has your eyes screwed shut. It’s only barely straddling the knife's edge of where pain and pleasure meld together, but it has you crying out his name all the same. 

Logan fucking sounds identical to Logan fighting, guttural groans and growls that are ripped from somewhere deep in his chest to pierce through the air between you. That ring in your ears and shake through your very soul like thunder. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grates, his voice thick with lust as he holds himself still for a moment, eyes glued to where you’re stretched around him. The puffy, abused lips of your cunt slick with his spit and the pre-come steadily leaking from his dark red tip. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

You moan, high and loud in the back of your throat as your ankles lock around his lower back. Your heels dig into the skin just above his ass as your cunt trembles around his cock, your spongy walls working over him desperately, milking him. 

“You like that don’t you?” Logan taunts, starting to snap his hips with purpose. “You like getting fucked like this, princess?” He leans down enough to growl directly into your ear, “I can smell how much you want it, how bad you're aching for it." 

He slides his hands up your sides, rough palms gliding over your sweat-slick skin as he continues, "You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. I can barely think straight with you on top of me, with your scent all over me. You know what you're doing, don’t you? Getting me all riled up like this."

You can’t respond, can’t speak. You can barely form a coherent thought, your lips falling open in a stream of desperate moans and whines as you bury your face in his neck.

The pulse of his carotid artery under your lips is maddening, each beat of his heart like a drum driving you further into madness. You want to sink your teeth into the skin there, to pull flesh and muscle from bone so you can watch the blood run in rivers and streams down Logan’s body.

The taste of him fresh and heady on your tongue as you watch the layers build back up from nothing, nerves and veins weaving themselves back together grotesquely.

“Fuck,” Logan groans, the sound vibrating through your mouth as you press your lips against his throat, your teeth scraping against his skin with barely restrained hunger.

You nip at his throat, your teeth leaving small indentations that fade almost as quickly as they appear. Logan’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving with every shallow breath as he leans into your touch, his body taut with anticipation.

"Atta girl, that's it," he growls, voice thick with desire as his hands grip your hips even tighter, nails digging into your skin as he ruts into you like a beast. His hips snapping against yours hard enough to sting, the loud slap of it bouncing off the walls to echo lewdly in your ears.

He’s fucking you like he wants to break you, reinforced hips heavy as he pounds you into the floor mercilessly. “Taking my cock so well, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You can feel the way Logan’s cock jerks and pulses inside of you, the taut heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You know he’s close, the brutal rhythm of his hips gets sloppier by the second.

You press your body up against his, your chest flush with his own as your hands wander over the hard planes of his back, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades roughly, basking in the way his muscles roll and flex underneath your greedy palms.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, the pulsing glow of his blood under your fingertips as you explore every inch of him with a hunger that’s almost feral. 

And then, with a low, guttural sound that you barely recognize as your own, you sink your teeth into his neck.

Logan’s reaction is immediate and visceral. His entire body tenses above you, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you bite down, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of him floods your mouth, metallic and rich, and it sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

You can feel his blood on your tongue, warm and thick, the taste of it driving you wild. It’s everything you’ve been craving, everything you’ve been trying to resist. And now that you’ve finally given in, it’s like a dam has broken inside you.

Logan’s growl is pure animal, his hips bucking up hard as he thrusts into you one last time, burying his cock as deep in you as he can. The force of his orgasm rips through him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he unloads inside of you. It’s so much, pulse after pulse of hot come that floods your insides. His hips don’t slow, still pumping and fucking like he’s trying to stuff you as full of himself as he can.

The feeling of it pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in a wave of white-hot pleasure that leaves you gasping and trembling above him. Your shaking cunt gushes over his cock as you swallow the blood pooling on your tongue.

Logan’s hips finally still, slotting flush with yours as he slumps onto the floor next to you, dragging you along with him so you can lay flat on his chest. The coarse hair scattered along his pecs scratches the skin of your cheek, you bury your face in the sweaty crook of his neck. You feel hazy, like you’re floating through the air, completely weightless. 

You think you could live here, plastered to the strong planes of Logan’s body, stuffed full of his cock and leaking his come in messy trails down your shaking thighs. 

But eventually, you have to pull back, your breath coming in short bursts as you lick the blood from your lips. Logan’s eyes are on you, shining under the chandelier light, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The wound on his neck is already healing, the skin knitting itself back together, but the blood still stains his skin red, a vivid reminder.

There’s a moment of silence, the air between you thick with tension and something else—something new and unspoken. You’re both panting, bodies still trembling with adrenaline.

Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood across your skin. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Finally, he reaches down slowly, like you’re a cornered animal that might turn and run any second. He takes your wrist in his hand, dragging it from the middle of his chest to the muscle directly over his heart. He presses your palm flat against him, blanketing your hand with his own.

“What do you feel,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.

The question catches you off guard. It’s a challenge, but it’s also an invitation—a chance to confront whatever’s swirling inside you instead of running away from it. You hesitate, searching for the right words to encapsulate the storm of emotions you feel thrumming through your bones.

"You," you whisper back, your palm sliding over the sweaty plain of his bare chest. "All I feel is you."

Logan’s eyes soften, and a rare, genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips. The intensity of the moment seems to dissolve, leaving a quiet understanding between you. He leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a tender caress against your ear. His thumb brushes along your pulse in a feather light touch. “That makes two of us.”

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[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

[thedensworld]

Stay Supple | Y. Jh

Genre: fluff, humour, smut

Summary: two ordinary worker have to deal with a baby. What should they do? Stay supple!

Missing Yoon Jeonghan hour:( but having so much fun writing this?

The weather was perfect, the sun shining just enough to complement the mood. Both you and Jeonghan waved as you split from the elevator—like clockwork. You headed left towards the design team, while he turned right to finance. Just another day as two regular employees at a food label under a large South Korean company.

"What's your relationship with Ji Y/N?" Jeonghan was first asked this after the two of you were seen leaving work together.

"She's my friend," he'd answer, as simply as possible, before walking off, leaving behind a trail of curious colleagues.

But when your coworkers found out you actually knew "the pretty guy from finance," their questions were relentless: “Is he single?” “Are you two dating?”

"He's my roommate," you revealed one day, much to their shock. "And, believe me, he looks way better than he actually is."

Exposing Jeonghan's less-than-angelic personality to his adoring fans became your daily amusement. It was a shock to everyone when they realized the two of you shared a flat. You’d known each other since junior high, moving to Seoul together in pursuit of better education, career prospects, and, maybe, love. But living in the capital wasn’t some dreamy K-drama. Everything was overpriced, especially rent. So, with some initial hesitation, you two decided to share an apartment.

"You failed your test?" Jeonghan mocked you years ago, when you returned from your architecture exam. He wasn’t surprised—you were hopeless at STEM subjects, and he loved to rub it in.

"I told you she was a snake," you reminded him when he came home heartbroken after his three-month relationship in university went up in flames. She'd used him to get through finals. Classic.

There was an ongoing joke between you two: "There are two types of people in this world—smart but evil, and kind but dumb." It didn’t take much guessing which label each of you wore.

“How was work?” Jeonghan asked as you both trudged home from the bus stop, a routine you had grown used to. The walk was long, so you filled the time with idle chat, unless you'd had an argument the night before, then it was all awkward silence.

You beamed at him, barely containing your excitement. "Amazing! The project I pitched was a hit! I can practically smell a promotion coming."

Jeonghan chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. "Good for you. Finance was a bit of chaotic today. Did you know the production costs are getting cut by 2% next month?"

Your excitement dimmed. "Wait, what?"

Jeonghan laughed at your panicked expression. "Don’t worry. We're trying to keep it from affecting your department—maybe even that project of yours."

You sighed dramatically. "You finance people really hold the whole company together, huh?"

As you reached your floor and walked down the hallway, the sound of a baby crying echoed. You grimaced and commented on how loud it was, while Jeonghan mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

“Jeonghan,” you stopped just a few feet from your door, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

Jeonghan turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, eyes still on his phone.

You pointed toward your apartment door. He finally looked up and saw what had rendered you speechless.

A baby box was sitting right there, in front of your door.

“Well, that's... unexpected,” Jeonghan quipped, scratching his head.

*

You stepped out of the police station, practically fuming, your brows knit together in frustration. Whatever happened inside had clearly pushed you to the edge.

"Do I look like a mother? Do I look old?" you snapped at Jeonghan, still seething over the way the officers had assumed things about you and the baby. You were taking it personally—way too personally.

"We need to investigate this situation further. There’s no CCTV on your apartment floor, so it’s hard for us to confirm whether the baby was really left there or if it’s, well... yours,” one of the officers had said, completely indifferent to your rising anger.

Jeonghan sighed, still holding the baby box as if it weighed a ton. His day had been chaotic enough at work, and now this? He just wanted to take a nap, but instead, he found himself standing in front of the police station, accused of something as wild as fathering a baby outside of marriage.

Yet, somehow, he wasn’t as furious as you.

"So, what do we do with this creature?" Jeonghan gestured at the baby, still sounding far too calm for your liking.

"It's a baby," you muttered.

"I know it’s a baby. But what are we supposed to do? The police won’t take it without more evidence, and we can’t exactly keep it," he said, his voice getting louder, almost desperate. His raised tone startled the baby, who began to cry—loudly.

Jeonghan sighed deeply, the sound of the wailing infant pushing him to his limit. He shot you a pleading look, as if expecting you to pull some miracle solution out of thin air. "You’ve never thought about being in a situation like this before?" he asked, clinging to the hope that you might have a plan.

You shook your head, helpless. "I don’t know... I want to cry too," you mumbled, your frustration bubbling over.

Jeonghan groaned. "Great. That’s exactly what we need—two people crying."

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to the situation. "Let’s just... take it home first. Then we can figure out what to do."

The two of you exchanged a look—one that spoke volumes about how absurd your day had become—before heading back to your shared apartment, a tiny, crying bundle now in tow.

You and Jeonghan sat on the floor of your living room, the baby box placed carefully between the two of you. The baby was still crying, its tiny wails echoing off the walls, and neither of you had the faintest clue how to make it stop.

"Do you think it's hungry? Or maybe... the diaper’s full?" you asked, throwing out the first guesses that came to mind.

Jeonghan instantly grabbed his phone and started Googling. "Yeah, uh, let me just... get some baby stuff," he mumbled, still scrolling as he stood up. He made it a few steps toward the door before turning back to point at you, with a smirk. "And don't do anything dumb while I’m gone. It may be a baby, but trust me—it’s judging you."

You glared at him. "Shut up!" you snapped, though there was a hint of panic creeping into your voice. You had never felt so out of your depth in your own apartment before.

Jeonghan laughed softly under his breath and hurried out the door, leaving you alone with the crying bundle. You sighed, looking down at the baby, and for a second, you swore it was staring back at you, its cries growing more impatient as if it really was judging your lack of maternal instincts.

“Okay, okay, I get it... I’m not cut out for this,” you muttered, feeling a tiny bit of guilt, though mostly stress, wash over you.

When Jeonghan returned home, the sight that greeted him was the last thing he expected. You were sitting on the couch, cradling the baby in your arms, swaying gently as if you'd been doing it for years. The baby was finally quiet, its tiny face peaceful for the first time since you’d found it.

“What did you get?” you asked in a whisper, your voice barely above a breath, as if any louder might undo your newfound peace.

Jeonghan held up a bag and gestured to its contents. "Baby milk, diapers, and... these," he said, showing you a bottle and a baby-sized nipple.

You raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "You got the essentials. How’d that go?"

Jeonghan sighed, a bit sheepish. "The staff asked me how old the baby was. I panicked and just said, 'Uh, it’s a baby... like, you know, baby.’ She gave me the weirdest look because I kept calling it it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, careful not to disturb the baby. “Good job,” you said, offering him a sarcastic thumbs-up before handing the baby over.

Jeonghan, now holding the baby with a mix of terror and curiosity, watched as you headed to the kitchen to prepare the formula. He could hear you from the other room, opening a tutorial video on YouTube, the sounds of "how to make baby formula" echoing faintly through the apartment.

“Will it be too hot?” you called out once you’d finished preparing the milk, holding up the bottle and inspecting it like you were conducting a science experiment.

Jeonghan smirked, bouncing the baby a little in his arms. "If it can handle my hotness, I think it'll be fine."

You shot him a withering look and promptly kicked his leg, just enough to make him grunt in pain.

“Ow,” he grumbled, trying to keep his voice low, but the baby squirmed in his arms, clearly disturbed by the commotion.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed quickly, gently rocking the baby back and forth. You couldn’t help but smile at the scene—a rare sight, Jeonghan being careful and gentle, though his usual antics weren’t too far behind.

"Careful, 'hot stuff,'" you teased, handing him the bottle. "You wouldn’t want to disturb your new fan."

Jeonghan gave you a mock glare before turning his attention back to the baby, slowly offering the bottle. "Let’s see if this works."

*

Neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep. And for once, the reason wasn't work—it was a baby. A very fresh, very loud baby. After fumbling through the process of changing a diaper and discovering the baby was a boy, you immediately passed him over to Jeonghan, wincing.

“I feel like I violated his privacy,” you mumbled, shoving the squirming infant into Jeonghan’s arms. “I didn’t have his consent.”

Jeonghan just rolled his eyes at your dramatic excuse to get out of diaper duty. “Right. Smart-dumb way to avoid the work.”

The next morning, utterly exhausted and desperate for some relief, you two were saved by an unexpected visitor. Your neighbor, a sweet woman in her 50s, knocked on the door, her face full of concern. She’d heard the crying all night and was curious about the sudden arrival of a baby in your apartment.

You and Jeonghan immediately launched into a frantic explanation, stumbling over your words as you described how you’d found the baby on your doorstep. To your immense relief, she offered to help babysit while the two of you went to work.

Now, finally, there was a moment of peace as you both leaned back in the bus seat, your heads resting against the windows. You shared a glance, silently hoping the short 10-minute bus ride would somehow erase the exhaustion weighing you down.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“She raised four kids. She’s more qualified than we are,” Jeonghan muttered, closing his eyes, the weariness catching up with him.

You sighed in agreement, sinking deeper into your seat. For now, all you could do was hope for the best and enjoy the few minutes of quiet before diving back into the chaos of your day.

"You should boil the bottle before using it, to kill the bacteria. Otherwise, the baby could get a stomachache and won't stop crying," your neighbor advised, her tone gentle but firm, as though the two of you were first-time parents instead of accidental babysitters.

Jeonghan and you stood there, nodding along, taking in her wisdom with wide eyes. "And don’t forget, after feeding, make sure he burps by patting his back gently. It’ll help him feel comfortable and sleep better."

With the baby in Jeonghan's arms, you both returned to the apartment, the weight of her advice hanging over you. You dropped everything you were carrying onto the floor, grateful when you noticed she’d even given you a small container of side dishes. You quickly stored them in the fridge while Jeonghan sat down, still rocking the baby gently in his arms.

"You should sleep," Jeonghan said after a few minutes. "I’ll watch the baby for now."

Without a second thought, you hummed in agreement, too tired to argue. You leaned over and gave Jeonghan a quick, tired kiss on the cheek as thanks before dashing off to your bedroom, ready to collapse. Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a smirk, though the small gesture made him chuckle.

As the door to your bedroom clicked shut, Jeonghan looked down at the baby, who had finally stopped fussing. “Well, it’s just you and me now, little guy,” he muttered, gently swaying from side to side. Exhaustion pulled at him, too, but the baby’s small face, now peaceful, kept him focused.

He yawned. "I need sleep as much as you do, buddy," he said softly, but continued rocking the baby, hoping the rhythmic motion would send him—and maybe himself—into a peaceful sleep.

*

Days of raising a baby you didn’t make—a running joke between you and Jeonghan to keep your sanity—were slowly becoming more manageable. The sleeping schedule was still a mess, but somehow, the two of you had adapted. You had even begun to master it. The real hero in your eyes, though, was Mrs. Moon, your neighbor, who had not only been babysitting but also offering wisdom, keeping both of you sane as you navigated this new, unexpected life.

One night, after a week of taking care of “Baby”—what you’d both started calling the little one—you and Jeonghan collapsed onto the couch. Baby lay peacefully in the rocking bed Mrs. Moon had lent you, her granddaughter's old one.

As you both sat there, half-delirious from exhaustion, the conversation inevitably shifted to the cost of suddenly having a baby around—mentally, physically, and especially financially.

“No wonder people in Korea aren’t having kids anymore,” you mused aloud, running a hand through your hair. “It’s a lot.”

Jeonghan, sprawled on the couch beside you, hummed in agreement. “I mean, it’s not news. Everyone knows how hard it is.”

“I’m so tired,” he said, his voice dripping with fatigue. “Like, mentally drained. All I want is to down five bottles of soju and just... disappear for a bit.”

You nodded, feeling the same way. “Right? I should be at a club right now, dancing, living my best life—maybe even finding someone to date,” you mumbled half-jokingly, staring at the ceiling.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to find the love of your life at a club?”

You shrugged, barely amused. “It doesn’t have to be love, you know... could just be, you know—distraction,” you said, hinting at something more casual.

Jeonghan gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cheap,” he teased, his eyes wide in mock judgment.

You swatted his arm, your voice dropping to a whisper, trying not to wake Baby. “I lost my virginity at 22! I wasn’t that cheap,” you hissed, more amused than angry.

Jeonghan burst into soft laughter, knowing full well you were just messing around. He’d known you for too long to take any of this seriously. “I’m just saying... you don’t exactly scream ‘wild-child looking for a one-night stand.’”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling under your breath. “Yeah, well, I could surprise you.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeonghan replied, still smiling. He glanced over at Baby, who remained peacefully asleep, and then back at you.

“When was the last time you had it? With Joshua?” Jeonghan asked, breaking into personal territory the two of you rarely ventured. He was referring to your ex, the American-Korean guy who had ended things when he had to leave the country.

You hummed thoughtfully, rubbing your face. “Honestly? I think I’ve forgotten how it even felt,” you admitted, casting a sideways glance at him. “What about you?”

Jeonghan leaned back, scoffing slightly. “With my last ex, obviously. I’m not some playboy, Y/N, no matter what you think,” he replied, sounding a bit annoyed by the label you often teased him with.

You smirked, resting your chin on your hand. “Was it hard? You know, to only do it with a few people?”

He nodded, glancing at you seriously. “Yeah. I only ever do it when I’m emotionally attached to someone.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Like when you did it with me?” you asked, playfully hinting at that one time between you two.

Jeonghan’s gaze shifted toward you, a small, knowing smile forming as he nodded slowly. “Yup. Including you.”

For a brief moment, the air felt heavier between you, the shared history lingering in the silence. But then, as always, the familiarity between you and Jeonghan smoothed over any tension, settling the moment into a comfortable memory rather than an awkward one.

*

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with disbelief as he stood frozen by the door, still in his campus jacket.

He had just returned from a long day filled with senior-year responsibilities, juggling group projects and graduation prep. Lately, the two of you had barely exchanged more than a few words, with both your schedules completely packed. You were interning at an American-Korean company, and by the time you got home, you’d make a beeline straight to your room, too exhausted for much interaction.

“Please, Jeonghan,” you pleaded, sitting on the couch with clasped hands. “I don’t know who else to ask. I only trust you.”

Jeonghan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He always knew you could be impulsive, but this? This was next-level.

“It’s not something casual, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “It’s... complicated. You seriously want me to take your virginity?”

You pouted, your eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and resolve. “It’ll be a one-time thing,” you assured him. “I promise it won’t change anything between us. I won’t treat you differently.”

Jeonghan groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “We’ve been friends for eight years,” he reminded you, his voice soft but serious. “What if it doesn’t go well? What happens then? Where am I supposed to live? Are we just going to keep splitting rent and pretend nothing happened?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, amused that he was worried about the rent in such a moment. “It won’t change anything. I swear.”

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. He wanted to make sure you understood what you were asking for, that you were truly serious about this.

“I’m serious, Jeonghan,” you added softly, your voice more determined now.

He sighed again, his internal conflict clear. “You know this could get messy, right?”

You nodded, eyes unwavering. “I trust you.”

Jeonghan sat down beside you, still visibly unsure but also knowing that in all the years you had been friends, you had always been honest with each other.

After a long, tense pause, he finally spoke. “Alright. If you’re absolutely sure about this...”

*

The two of you took half a day off work, though the morning had started as any other. While you were still in your tank top, getting ready for the day, a knock on the door interrupted your routine. Thinking it was Mrs. Moon, you casually opened the door, only to be met by a police officer.

"Mr. Yoon? Are you Ms. Yoon?" the officer asked.

Caught off guard, you quickly excused yourself to change, leaving Jeonghan to greet the officer. When you rejoined them in the living room, the officer handed both of you a document.

"It's about the report you filed last week regarding the abandoned baby," the officer explained. "We apologize for the delay, but we've since received information about a missing person—a woman in her twenties who disappeared along with her infant."

You and Jeonghan exchanged looks, tension building in the room.

"So, we'd like you to bring the baby to the station. We'll meet with the family to confirm if the baby is theirs."

Later, at the police station, the baby was confirmed to be the missing woman's son, just two months old. The officer showed you and Jeonghan footage of a woman carrying the same baby box, wandering near your apartment complex before leaving it behind. While you weren’t given the full details about the mother, the footage left no doubt.

It was an unexpected turn of events, but also a relief.

“No more baby to babysit,” Jeonghan remarked on your way to work, a mix of exhaustion and amusement in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the last few days finally lifting. “We should get Mrs. Moon that apple mango she’s been wanting,” you said, your voice light. Jeonghan made a mental note, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the car seat.

Finally, peace was coming—real peace, and not just the brief moments of quiet between diaper changes and late-night feedings.

"I'm sorry to ask, but I just want to make sure—are you two married?" The officer's tone was polite but curious.

Both you and Jeonghan shook your heads simultaneously. "No, we're not. We're just roommates," Jeonghan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced at you.

The officer nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response before offering a friendly smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any further questions or information, don’t hesitate to reach out."

As the officer turned to leave, you and Jeonghan stood in front of the company building, the bustling city life continuing around you. The weight of the past week was beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of relief.

Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, breaking the momentary silence. "Can you imagine what it would have been like if we had been married? The rumors would have been wild!"

You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. "Thank goodness for our status as roommates, then. At least it keeps things simple."

With a shared smile, you both stepped into the building, ready to face the day ahead—less burdened by the unexpected chaos and more in tune with each other than ever.

*

You arrived home a little later than usual, the warmth of the evening lingering around you. After a lively team dinner filled with laughter and a few glasses of soju, you decided to take a cab home, the comforting thought of Jeonghan waiting, to take care of the drunk you, made the ride feel shorter.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Jeonghan was slouched on the couch, drinking alone and engrossed in a variety show. The table in front of him was a chaotic scene of five bottles of soju and a box of fried chicken.

"You really have five bottles of soju?" you muttered, you sobered up from your own six glasses as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Hey, want to join?" Jeonghan offered, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he finally noticed your presence.

"You weren't joking when you said you would drink five bottles of soju," you replied, taking a seat beside him and pouring a shot of the clear liquid into a glass that had been left untouched, took in in one shot.

"Chill, girl. Did anyone bother you there?" Jeonghan asked, his words slightly slurred, yet still managing to express genuine concern.

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Not really. But some higher-ups still made me pour drinks for them."

Jeonghan furrowed his brow, his expression shifting from playful to serious. Though he was clearly drunk, he was fighting to stay focused. "Which man should oppa kick his ass today?" he asked, referring to himself with a playful tone.

You chuckled, knowing how much he enjoyed the title. "Jeong Kiha," you mentioned, naming the vice president, which caught him by surprise.

"He came to your team dinner? That's rare," Jeonghan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can’t help you there; he’s my boss as well."

You leaned in, amused by the whole situation. "What would you even do if you could? Challenge him to a drinking contest?"

"Absolutely! I’d take him down for you," he declared with exaggerated bravado, raising his glass in a mock toast. “But let’s be honest, I might need more practice after five bottles.”

"But if he bothered you, I might just have to make it personal." He continued.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Personal, huh? What do you have in mind?"

With a playful glint in his eye, Jeonghan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I could always take you out. Just the two of us. A more... intimate setting.”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, the alcohol fueling your boldness. "Intimate, you say? What would that look like, Jeonghan?"

"Maybe a cozy little restaurant where we can share more than just food and drinks," he teased, inching even closer. "I could help you unwind after your stuffy dinners with the higher-ups. Just you and me, no distractions."

A flutter of excitement surged through you. “And what else would we do, hmm?” you played along, your voice low and inviting.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning back slightly, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can think of a few ways to help you relieve some stress. You know, like teaching you how to really enjoy your drinks."

You laughed, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Is that your idea of a fun night? Getting me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone turning serious for a moment. “But only if you want it, too. I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

His sincerity was disarming, and the tension hung in the air, electric. “You know, it’s tempting,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “Very tempting.”

Jeonghan grinned, raising his glass again. “Then let’s toast to temptation and see where the night takes us.”

You clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, both of you fully aware that this night could lead to something unexpected—and perhaps a little dangerous.

*

Jeonghan knew he was screwed the moment you asked him to take your virginity. The eight-year crush he had nurtured for you transformed into something much more profound once he kissed you for the first time. It felt right—like the universe had aligned in that single, electric moment. Your lips tasted sweet, like vanilla; maybe it was the chapstick you always used, or perhaps it was simply how you tasted. Either way, it was everything he had fantasized about.

He touched you with a gentleness that belied the whirlwind of emotions inside him, laying you down on his bed, because you didn't want to mess up your own. Watching your face shift through various expressions as he explored you sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t believe you were under him, something that the adolescent version of himself would have dreamt about while fantasizing in the dark, his hand working over his shaft as he thought of you.

The day after he took your virginity, you kept your promise, treating him as a friend and nothing more. And that, honestly, was the most disappointing part for him. While you moved on as if nothing had changed, his feelings remained steadfast, unwavering in their intensity. Eight years had passed since that night, yet his heart still raced at the thought of you.

Now, sitting beside you, he was acutely aware of the space that had grown between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. Jeonghan leaned in, cupping your cheeks in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palms. His heart pounded as he captured your lips with his once more. After all these years, you were still as sweet as he remembered, and the taste sent him spiraling back to that first kiss, igniting the flame that had never truly faded.

In that moment, all the years of friendship, all the laughter and shared memories, faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was the soft connection between your lips and the lingering sensation of what could be. He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of what you were feeling.

“Do you ever think about that night?” he whispered, vulnerability creeping into his voice.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “I try not to,” you admitted, your tone light but edged with honesty. “I didn’t want things to change between us.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you could feel the tension between you shifting. Jeonghan’s heart raced, hopeful yet anxious, waiting for your response. Would you finally see him for more than just a friend?

You met his gaze, a mix of emotions dancing in your eyes. “What do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s figure it out together,” he replied, closing the distance again, this time with a sense of urgency and purpose.

Jeonghan pulled you onto his lap, his hands roaming over every contour of your body, exploring the soft curves he had admired for so long. You kissed him with a passion that felt life-altering, pouring every ounce of desire and longing into that moment. The heat radiating between you ignited something primal in him—the idea that you wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted you was intoxicating.

He carefully unbuttoned your blouse, mindful that you would scold him if he broke even one button. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers gliding over your bare skin, teasing your breast while his lips trailed kisses along your neck, igniting every nerve ending.

“J—Jeonghan…” A moan escaped your lips, and the sound sent shivers down his spine as he marked your neck with his lips, claiming you in ways that made his heart race. “I got you, baby. I got you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your top lay discarded, and in a frenzy of desire, Jeonghan couldn’t even remember when he had removed it. He lifted your skirt, grabbing your ass as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his pent-up longing into that one kiss. He guided your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, encouraging you to strip him of his clothes. Your fingers traveled across his bare chest, and he let out a soft whimper at your touch, the sensation igniting a fire within him. This was the moment he had been waiting for—finally feeling your skin against his, a craving he had long held.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, thrusting his hips upward to let you feel how hard you made him. He noticed your cheeks tinting with a lovely blush at the revelation. “That’s how you make me, baby.”

He laid you back onto the couch, lifting your skirt higher until your thighs and underwear were fully exposed to him. One of his hands found its way to your breast, overwhelming you with sensations, while the other traveled lower, exploring your core beneath the thin, damp fabric that clung to you.

“You’re so wet, baby. And it’s all for me,” Jeonghan whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbled on it playfully, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His tongue painted a path along your neck, igniting every nerve ending with desire.

“I need you, Jeonghan,” you whimpered under his skilled touch, desperation lacing your voice. But he hushed you with a passionate kiss, drowning your pleas in the heat of the moment.

“Be patient, baby… Just a little longer,” he replied, his voice a tantalizing promise as he continued to explore every inch of you, savoring the sweetness of your body and the thrill of this intimate connection.

He watched you gasp as he slid one of his fingers inside you, pulling it out slowly while your walls clenched around him. A smirk crept onto his face when you pleaded for more, and he was more than happy to oblige, moving his finger skillfully.

“Is it like the first time? When I fingered you, is it like what I did to you eight years ago?” Jeonghan teased, his voice low and sultry. You whimpered under him, craving everything he had to give.

“It feels amazing. Always.” You struggled to mutter the words, the pleasure overwhelming you as Jeonghan added another finger.

“You’re so tight, baby. I’m not sure you can take me well,” he breathed out, his fingers moving faster, each thrust eliciting a wince as you felt a pooling sensation deep in your tummy.

“I—I can, please… J—Jeonghan…” Your arms pulled him closer, your lips pouting for a kiss, and he obliged immediately, his lips capturing yours while his fingers continued their delicious torment.

“I want to cum,” you mumbled between kisses, and Jeonghan smirked against your lips. “Give it to me, baby.”

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding to him in a way that made his heart race. He pistoned his fingers with a brutal pace, feeling the pulsating tension building in your core. A loud moan escaped your lips, followed by your first orgasm with him after eight long years, and it was all for his fingers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him; he couldn’t wait to make you cum with everything he had.

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean, his gaze locked onto your blissed-out expression, riding high from the waves of pleasure he had just given you.

Without a word, he scooped you up from the couch and carried you to his bedroom. In one swift motion, he threw you onto the bed, his desire palpable as he pulled down his pants and joined you.

With an impatient urgency, he hovered over you, lips meeting in a heated kiss that spoke volumes of the longing built up over the years. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your bodies melted into one another, igniting the passion that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.

"You want me raw or��?" Jeonghan asked, his voice low and filled with anticipation. His question sent a jolt through you, darkening your gaze as you whispered, "Raw." It was a bold confession, one that set the stage for everything that followed. "Just so you know, I’m on the pill."

He swore he could have died right in your arms at your admission, the thrill of it igniting something primal within him. As your hand traveled down to his abs, you let your fingers tease his skin for a moment before they finally grasped his hardened cock.

“Oh my god—” Jeonghan choked at your touch, his breath hitching. The smirk on your lips told him you were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it only intensified his desire.

“Put it in, please,” you begged, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Jeonghan nodded, leaning in for one last, lingering kiss before he positioned himself, rubbing the tip against your slick entrance, feeling the heat radiating from you.

“Don’t tease,” you urged, your hand playfully pinching his arm, and he chuckled softly, the sound filled with desire.

With a teasing smile, Jeonghan finally pushed his member into your tight heat. He gasped at the overwhelming sensation, feeling you envelop him completely. Every inch of you was warm and inviting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he knew this was only the beginning.

He stilled inside of you, wanting you to adjust him for moment. You motioned him to move, a whimpered escaped his mouth as he pushed deeper to you slowly. Your walls clenching him tightly, pulling him deeper and making his head spinning. He pulled slowly before his hips thrusting, hitting you right, gaining a sensual moan from you.

"Keep it down, baby. Don’t want Mrs. Moon to hear us," Jeonghan murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed deeper inside you.

"Faster, Jeonghan…" you breathed out the words, your voice a desperate plea laced with urgency. The thrill of being so close, yet so vulnerable, sent your pulse racing.

He obeyed, quickening his pace as he filled you completely, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself amidst the intoxicating sensations.

The bed creaked beneath you. Jeonghan’s lips found yours again, silencing any sounds that threatened to escape, kissing you fiercely as if to drown out everything but the two of you.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your expression morph from pleasure to pure ecstasy. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You responded with a whimper, the sound echoing in the small space, and you felt the heat pooling in your core grow stronger with each thrust. "I want you to finish inside me, Jeonghan. Please," you begged, your words spilling out in a breathless rush.

His breath hitched at your request, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of control. "You’re going to make me lose it," he warned, voice thick with need. But the fire in your eyes only urged him on, driving him to give you everything he had.

"Then let go, baby. I’m ready," you encouraged, your body arching against him, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The world outside faded away as you lost yourselves in each other, the only sound filling the room being the rush of your breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

With one final, deep thrust, Jeonghan buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he let go, the pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. You followed right behind him, your body tightening around him as your climax hit, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy from both of you.

As you both came down from the high, he collapsed beside you, breathless and spent, while you curled into his side, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief at how far you had come.

“That was... Amazing?” you said, your voice breathless but filled with satisfaction. The choice of word earned a tired laugh from Jeonghan, who could sense your smile before you leaned against his chest, the warmth between you still lingering in the air.

Jeonghan, his heart still racing from the intensity of what had just happened, felt a wave of heat creep up his cheeks. He couldn’t hide the flush staining his skin, and in an attempt to conceal it, he covered his face with his arm, laughing softly. You shifted, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, clearly enjoying his sudden bashfulness.

“Where’s the confident, cocky Jeonghan I know?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic shyness.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of your head, refusing to let you see just how red he had become. It was rare for him to feel this flustered, but there was something about being with you that turned his usual bravado into something far more vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your hair.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. “Sorry? For what?”

“I just... I can’t help it,” Jeonghan confessed softly, his voice almost shy. “I—I really like you. It’s been driving me crazy for years, and now that it’s all out in the open... I’m still not sure how to act.”

His confession felt light, as if every action, every kiss, every touch was its own declaration of the feelings he had been holding onto for so long. Saying it aloud didn’t feel like it added anything new, but he needed you to hear it anyway.

You felt his heart beating faster under your palm, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on him. “I... I really like you too. Honestly, I don’t even know when it started, but after all these years, I finally have the courage to admit it. I don’t just like you, Jeonghan. I love you.”

Your words hung in the air between you, sweet and sincere, filling the room with a warmth that rivaled any physical closeness. Jeonghan’s heart soared at your confession, a feeling of complete contentment washing over him. He had dreamed of this moment for years, but nothing could have prepared him for how real and incredible it felt to finally hear you say it.

You chuckled softly, resting your head back against his chest. “You really should’ve told me earlier, you know,” you teased, playfully poking at his side. “Like... earlier earlier.”

*

You watched the football game on the field, your eyes catching a lanky boy with long hair, dribbling the ball as if his life depended on it. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, and it was hard not to be impressed.

"Who's that?" you asked one of your friends, pointing toward the boy, curiosity getting the better of you.

"That? Yoon Jeonghan," they replied casually, as though everyone already knew his name.

Days later, you found yourself standing in front of Jeonghan's desk, clutching your math homework nervously. He was deep in conversation with his friends, his usual calm demeanor unshaken by the chatter around him. Mustering up your courage, you pulled the book from your bag and held it out to him.

"Teach me math! I heard you're the best," you declared boldly, your heart racing, half-expecting him to brush you off.

[pitchsidestories]

training season II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1140

summary: Lucy and you're married, but she still wants to impress you especially during gym sessions with the team.

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we hope you enjoy it as much as we did while writing the oneshot.

Staying focused.

That was always your priority when you were in the gym with your Barcelona teammates.

Your hands were getting sweaty as you did your last set of leg presses on the machine.

Alexia did the same exercises next to you. You liked being in her presence, she always made sure you pushed yourself.

But today, she seemed distracted, pausing in the middle of her set.

“Y/n, your wife…“, she said into the silence.

“What about her?“, you huffed as you pushed the weight with your legs once again.

Alexia rolled her eyes: “She’s annoying.“

“Annoying, huh?“, you laughed. You set your feet down and turned towards your wife.

“Look.“ Alexia nodded in her direction and resumed her exercises.

Lucy was in the middle of the floor, doing push-ups in rapid succession.

You smirked: “Luce is trying to impress.“

“I wonder who she’s trying to impress here. It’s definitely not us.“, Mapi teased. She was sitting on a gymnastic ball and grinned at you.

You shrugged innocently: “Who knows.“

Still, your gaze subconsciously drifted back to your wifes biceps.

“Pretty obvious.“, Alexia concluded with a raised eyebrow.

On the order side of the gym, Lucy looked over to Mariona who was next to her on the floor, massaging her muscles with a foam roller.

“Mario, is she looking?“

“Yes, and everyone else too.“, the midfielder replied, sounding bored.

Patri joined the conversation, letting herself drop on the mat next to Mariona: “Also you know that this rooms isn’t that huge and everyone can hear you, right, Lucia?“

“Shut up.“, Lucy replied jokingly.

The younger player just shrugged: “Your wife doesn’t look too impressed so far.“

Lucy frowned as she looked over towards you: “It’s because Alexia and Mapi keep distracting her.“

“Or you need to do something more impressive.“, Mariona suggested.

The defender stopped doing push-ups and considered her teammate for a moment: “I think I have an idea for that.“

She got up, moved over towards a pull-up bar and started doing pull-ups. No break between the exercises, just steady and quick movements over and over again. The veins in her forearms started to protrude and her breathing pattern was off,

You could tell when your wife was overdoing it.

“Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze!“, you called her.

She let go of the bar and dropped to her feet: “Yes?“

The smile on her face let you know that she got what she wanted. Your attention.

“Sarina Wiegman would kill you if she saw you doing that!“, you warned her. It was a running gag between the two of you. Her national team coach was always worried about Lucy doing too much at her age.

Your wife shrugged: “She’s not here though!“

“Still, that’s why we won the world cup against your team, you never listen to the advice your coach gives you.”, you remarked with the hands demonstrative on your hips.

“Excuse me what?!”, she replied, in an attempted scandalized tone.

“You heard me.”, you countered smirking.

“You know that’s a lie. You were just lucky.”, Lucy protested, despite her playful annoyance, her green eyes lit up during your banter, there were only a few things she enjoyed more than this.

“Yes, it was. But maybe you should focus more on your running than your arms.”, you continued, the smirk on your lips deepened as you padded her shoulder, feeling the muscles working underneath the skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”, the defender pouted. Although she clearly enjoyed that you finally touched her.

“Oh, nothing.”, you answered innocently.

“You couldn’t go a day without touching my biceps.”, your wife responded confidently, flexing said body part to underline what she just said.

“In fact, y/n already touched it.”, Mapi observed with a cheeky smile on her face. Obviously, the heavily tattooed Spaniard was on her side.

“Mapi!”, you scolded only half-heartedly.

“See? Maybe you should work on your arms instead.”, Lucy gave you one of her winning grins.

“Rude. Gym session is over though, so it’s time for training and there I want to see you run.”, you reminded her winking.

“Don’t worry. I’ll try to tackle you not too hard.”, the older woman promised snorting.

Watching you two from the distance Alexia turned curiously to the other English player in the room:” Keira? Were they always like that?”

“Yeah, we’re lucky that we’re in training otherwise they’d start making out.”, Keira made gagging noises.

“That sounds like them.”, the captain admitted.

“It’s weird.”, the red-haired midfielder told her teammate.

“It’s not!”, Lucy  promptly shot back.

“Oh, thought you were too busy flirting with your wife.”, Keira mocked her.

“She’s very sensitive about it.”, you explained quickly.

“Lucia?”, Mapi called your wife.

“Huh?”, she looked up to her.

“Let’s see who’s the first one on the training pitch!”, the Spanish woman proposed to the older player who never said no to a challenge.

“Obviously me!”, Lucy yelled excitedly, before the two of them start running, leaving everyone else behind them, almost crashing into a staff member while doing so.

“I won’t let you win, you impressed your wife enough.”, you could hear Mapi shout at her.

With a loud sigh Ingrid wrapped her arm around your shoulders, while you both walked in a normal pace to the training pitch:” They don’t belong to us, y/n.”

“Of course not.”, you agreed smiling.

“No, we always know they’re your two idiots.”, Alexia shook her head.

Watching your wife and teammate race each other, you sighed: “Yeah okay, they are.“

“See.“ Alexia gave you a told-you-so-look that you chose to ignore.

On the other side of the pitch, Lucy announced proudly: “I was first!“

“No, you weren’t.“, Mapi disagreed, pouting.

Lucy lowered her voice: “Shhh, don’t tell anyone.“

The Spanish defender let out a laugh, her gaze shifting in your direction: “I’m sure your wife still loves you anyway.“

“I do.“, you confirmed, wrapping her arms around your wifes waist as you arrived on the pitch.

She turned towards you, looking directly at you: “Just for the record, we were here at the same time.“

You nodded slowly: “Sure, love.“

Lucy considered you for a moment. With a smile on her face, she pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered: “I can’t wait to go home with you later…“

Keira grimaced in disgust: “Too much information.“

“Sorry.“, you grinned innocently. You took a step back from your wife. There was still a light training session to be done and you needed to focus on that.

But the truth was, you could not wait to go home either.

You would never admit it but yes, it worked. You were, in fact, impressed by her silly antics.

Even after years of marriage, your gaze always found her in every room.

There was no need to impress you, she always had your attention.

[cheri-2047]

a scenario where “they find out you’re pregnant after you break up” with alhaitham, ayato, alhaitham, diluc, wriothesley or just any of them?? 🙂‍↕️

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I haven’t started the inazuma quest so I don’t know much about ayato, this is completely based off on his voicelines so my bad.

as for Alhaitham diluc and wriothesley

THERE WILL BE AN ATTEMPT ! (I had hyper fixations on alhaitham and a lil bit on wriothesley)

I added LYNEY to the mix cause I need to see his x reader tag filled after days (it’s been less than 24 hours) of it not being filled

this will be mostly headcanons cause I’ve been losing motivation to write full fics lately 😔 I’m gen sorry

”You’re…pregnant?” With Alhaitham, Wriothesley, Ayato, Diluc, Lyney

TAGS: is pregnancy a tag 😭 it’s just y’all talking abt it 😭 alcohol (diluc)

CHARACTERS: haitham wriothesley, ayato, diluc, lyney.

MENTIONS OF: kaveh, sigewinne, kaeya, ayaka, Thoma, Lynette, freminet

ALHAITHAM:

you doorbell on his home, only to see…

kaveh.

”oh! It’s been awhile since you visited, uhh… he’s still at the akademya…would you like to wait or…”

kaveh lets you in and it’s up to you if you want to leave honestly. He’s aware you two broke up but decided not to pry into it anymore (to help both you and Alhaitham handle it on your own)

as you wait, you just watch him make his blueprints, he offers you drinks while you wait, but the moment the door opens kaveh packs up and leaves the room

“Alhaitham…?”

you called out for Alhaitham, as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“….”

he nods his head to acknowledge your presence.

“it’s been awhile.”

he sat across from you.

“why the sudden visit?”

“look, remember that night when we…. Um…”

“….what about it…?”

when you told him about it, he was speechless for awhile

”come again?”

you two sit in silence for awhile, both of you PRAYING that the other says something

”…what do YOU want?” He asks, wanting to know if you’ll keep the baby or not.

”I was hoping I could keep it… I just wanted to tell you since you know…”

he nods, he stands up and sits next to you.

He smiles, “would you be okay with raising them together?”

he was actually pretty happy that you wanted to keep the baby, both of you before you broke up wanted to have a family with each other. So he was still happy that you were still up to it

you nod

”I want us to try again” he says, while holding both your hands.

”I want to try to fix this relationship…do you?”

of you say yes, he smiles and hugs you, if you say no, he nods and says he understands, but still asks if he can raise the kid with you

”do you want to move in?” He offers, “I have a spare room, you can stay there while we fix our relationship, no rush…”

he assures you,

you nod. “I guess kaveh’s getting another roommate huh? Ah- another two roommates” he smiles as he rubs your belly.

while you’re pregnant, he takes care of finances, everything really. He pampers you and stuff

kaveh is happy for the both of you just “as long as you don’t make me the babysitter…. Except for if you lessen my rent”

When the baby comes haitham was there to support you

you two took care of the child pretty well (Kaveh taking care of the kid VOLUNTARILY since he’s grown to get attached to them, he even teaches them how to draw as they grow up)

Alhaitham and you get your relationship fixed (yayyy)

Alhaitham comes home earlier to help with the baby, he plays with the kid and does everything in general

he reads the kid as many books as they want, every day even if he’s busy he WILL make time for the kid.

sometimes he takes the baby to work with him, and while he works he talks to the baby (he teaches things to them as well)

Alhaitham proudly introduces them to Cyno and nari and they call Collei the sister of your kid

make another request if u want them as parents headcanons cause I can fill thousands of these

WRIOTHESLEY:

You and wriothesley ended your relationship on pretty good terms

you still visit him sometimes and that’s how this whole thing started

sigewinne started to notice how you constantly looked in pain, or how some days you come later than usual

she didn’t say much about it until she could have sworn she heard you throwing up in one of the bathrooms.

she asks you what’s wrong and when you say you don’t know, she brings you in for a checkup.

that’s when you found out. “you’re pregnant!”

she says happily while clapping her hands. “Congrats!”

you panicked, knowing EXACTLY who the father was.

“….whats wrong?”

she asks, noticing your silence

“…is it wriothesley?”

you nod, not even knowing how to tell him or how he will react.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad, ah speak of the devil!”

he entered the room, he heard you throwing up and he panicked. But when he entered the room, he had an unreadable expression.

“you’re…pregnant?”

he asked. And that’s when you realized he heard everything. As you nod he takes awhile to think

He sits down on one of the infirmary beds in front of you,

“….can we keep it? If you don’t want to I understa-“

you nod, he smiled and moved beds to sit next to you.

sigewinne went away to give you two some privacy

”I don’t want them growing up here though” he chuckled, he didn’t want the kid growing in the fortress of meropide

”wouldn’t let ‘em even if we had the option” you joked back, as wriothesley held your hand

”…you’re really okay with keeping the baby? Don’t wanna have regrets now”

as you reassure him, he pulls you into a hug

”how do we raise them?” He asks, squeezing your hand a bit

”what do you mean?”

”as…as best friends like we are now? Or… do.. do you want to try again? Being in a more… serious relationship I mean”

mid you say u wanan try, he’ll be happy and afterwards press a kiss to your cheek, and if you say no, he will nod but still be happy you two can have a family.

ge ends the talk with “I love you”

during pregnancy he makes sigewinne go to your home to help you when he’s busy

The moment you say ure in too much pain, he runs to your home, and cares for you the entire time.

eventually you move in to his mansion, and his maids take care of your cravings and all

He feels bad for being absent but every day when he comes home he has a gift for you <3

i feel wriothesley wouldnt want the kid to be scared with the criminals he handles so he doesn’t talk much about work at home

he enjoys being with you, he is more at home now as much as he can.

he’s in charge of diapers, he doesn’t care if he’s out he told you he will do it

in fact he’s like that with almost everything.

The moment you try to tell him “I can do it” he goes

“You’ve spent 9 months taking care of this kid on your own, no buts.”

he wants you to have a breeze with the kid

Every night, the kid cuddles with you two to sleep.

He makes an effort to go out with you two, on picnics or anthing, he wants to make sure this kid is loved due to his backstory

jes also very protective of the kid, he loves you two very much

AYATO:

You and ayato ended your relationship pretty formally, he didn’t want you two to have bad blood between each other

you don’t keep in touch much, but occasionally he sends messages asking how you are and all.

Lately however, you’ve been getting more sick and feeling bad. You asked your friends about it and they didn’t really know what to do, they passed it off as “maybe you ate something bad?”

you couldn’t handle it anymore, so one day you went to the hospital with your friend ayaka. Ayaka was one of your closest friends, even before dating ayato you two were already close, she went with you to the hospital (since you didn’t want to go alone) and after awhile, you two found out you were pregnant.

“Congratulations!” She clapped, as the doctor left the room. “What’s with the long face?”

“….I need to talk to ayato…. Ayaka do you know if he’s busy today?”

she then realized what you meant, before nodding and helping you check out of the hospital

that same day, luckily when you dropped her off, ayato was right outside, just taking a stroll around. He waved when he saw you and ayaka.

ayaka asked him if he was busy and he shook his head. And that’s when she left the two of you.

“it’s been quite some time hasnt it? What’s so urgent?”

he asks as you two continue to walk outside the kamisato estate

As you explain to him the situation, he stops walking

”you’re sure? You double checked?”

its not that he doesn’t want the baby, it’s just he’s worried about the amount of pain you’ll go through

he brings you two to sit outside (on a chair ofc) and as you tell him you were sure, he was speechless for a bit

”…dear i think it’s up to you for what to do”

”if you’d like to keep it, I’d be more than happy to raise them with you, but if not…I’ll help you get things arranged”

if you say you keep it, he will smile and kiss you on the cheek.

”sorry” he chuckles

”can I raise them with you?”

if you say no he says he will then just support you financially and if you say yes, he will clap in excitement

as you’re pregnant, he lets you stay in his house (in the comments please tell me if his home has a name so I’ll edit it) and he spends more nights working more to ensure you two have everything enough for the baby (even if he’s already rich)

He takes some more days off than usual, just caring and pampering you

ayaka is so happy that her best friend lives with her and she also helps u too, morning sickness? If Ayato’s busy, she’ll be right there to hold your hair back. cravings? She will immediately ask the chef to cook it for you.

Thoma also is more than delighted to help, he’s actually really happy for you two.

as for your relationship with ayato, things aren’t sure. But he would always be open to the idea of trying again with you

once the baby arrives, ayato drops what he’s doing and immediately runs to you, he takes you to the hospital (ayaka and thoma too) and stays by your side and holds your hand the entire time

once the baby is out, he would go “good job darling, I’m so proud of you” and kisses you on the forehead

he takes a LOT of days off more now, (ayaka volunteered to do his work for her even if it’s difficult) and he pampers you and the kid

its up to you if you want to raise your kid as the next heir, but ayato definitely wouldn’t force you (or the kid, he would ask the kid once he’s older if they want and gives him 2 years to change their mind is they say yes or no)

he asks thoma to help him learn how to cook, change diapers, etc, he genuinely just wants to make this kid feel as loved as possible.

if your baby cries in the middle of the night he tucks you in and handles it himself.

he’d honestly be a good dad even if he’s really busy at times.

DILUC:

”what?”

“immm pregnant….”

you said, completely out of your mind after you had a few drinks at the tavern.

“y/n you’re drunk.”

he thinks you’re joking, but suddenly you pull out a pregnancy test

“Tadaaaaa…..”

he looks at you in shock

“where did you get this?”

“From me…?”

“It’s no time for jokes y/n where did you get this”

“i can take another one if you wanttt”

not only does he have to deal with this, but he also has to deal with you being drunk as hell.

“not now, oh god if you’re serious… you drank too much alcohol”

he panics, he immediately takes the drinks away from you and carries you to your home in mondstadt.

“please tell me you’re lying”

it’s not that he doesn’t want the baby, he’s just scared that you ARE pregnant and since you drank a lot that night, it would damage the baby

“woah there”

diluc bumps into kaeya, and kaeya looks at him weirdly to find you just muttering in his arms

“Kaeya, I need you to do me a favor”

“oh? Not even daring to speak to your brother for months only to come back for a favor hmm?”

“I’m serious this isn’t a game!”

Kaeya then nodded

“alright alright, what do you want”

Diluc explains to him what you announced and he asked for him to go to the pharmacy to ask if you did buy tests.

“alright, I’ll meet you in her home”

kaeya runs and diluc runs to your home, laying you down in your bedroom.

he runs to the bathroom and he does see a box of tests and 3 other positive tests.

“…so you were serious huh?” He sits next to you on your bed, seeing how you passed out from the drinks.

he watches over you the entire night, thinking things through

kaeya comes and confirms you bought them, and he thanks him.

”so you’re gonna be a dad?” kaeya asks, looking at his brother

”…I mean… y/n and I did want to be parents… it’s just yeah.. the falling out”

“what are you gonna do about it?”

”…if she keeps the baby, I’ll gladly help her. I’ll ask adelinde to stay in her home or she stays in the manor” (forgot what his home is called)

”so I’m gonna be an uncle huh?” Kaeya jokes

”I’d actually be really happy if you’d support this” diluc admits,

”of course I do, you’d be a good dad” kaeya reassures him

a few hours later kaeya leaves and in the morning you remember your conversation with diluc

he talks you over with it and once you two reach an agreement, he smiles.

he takes you to his manor and even if he has to work, he’s home earlier every day to help.

he starts building things, a crib, etc

once the baby is out, adelinde helps you two, and diluc overall though he’s strict, he’s really good

be plays with the kid, teaches them to attack, anything the kid wants, he supports

during arguments (if it’s between you and diluc) he makes sure the kid doesn’t hear, he doesn’t want to scare him.

”hey kiddo, let’s get you to your room okay? Ah and wear this” he hands him headphones “no taking off okay?”

You two however, sleep in different rooms.

if you Two get together, then in the same room.

diluc loves you two very much (kaeya and Adelinde as well)

Adelinde does usual chores and plays with the kid when you both are busy

and kaeya makes a bigger effort to visit more

actually what’s really nice is kaeya and diluc gets close again, when they both play with the kid, they themselves get reminded of their childhood and it’s really wholesome honestly

LYNEY:

(I love him so much)

when you two dated, you two were actually roommates. Up until now you two are roommates, and best friends

You didn’t even take any suspicion that you were pregnant, he just noticed more changes in your mood how you always looked in pain.

one morning, you suddenly had morning sickness, he was cooking breakfast and once he heard your retching, he closed the flame and ran, he pulled back your hair and rubbed your back

“there there,”

when you finished, he ran to get you some water and sat with you against the bathroom wall for a bit

“I think we need to talk”

“hm?”

“this- it can’t just be a coincidence Mon cher”

(I HEADCANON THAT HE GOT USED TO CALLING YOU PET NAMES IN UR RELATIONSHIP AND YOU SAID THAT ITS OKAY THAT HE DOES THAT)

“what do you mean?”

“you’ve been having more pains yes? Your mood has been more down lately, and your morning sickness?”

“morning sickness? No Lyney I’m sure I just ate something bad-“

“I think you’re pregnant”

“…what?”

And that’s how this whole thing started

The entire morning he tries to convince you

”birth control isn’t… doesn’t always work” he mutters

if you’re in denial, he goes out later to buy a test.

once you try it, and it’s positive you try another

”I’m… I’m really….”

he nods

”…y/n? Do you want to keep them?”

If you nod, he smiled and hugs you tightly and if you say no, he says he will get arlecchino to help with the process.

you two remain roommates and you can tell he’s trying his best to pretend to still be in the actual relationship

one night, he talks to you talking about how he still wants to try again, with being lovers and all

if you say no, he respects that and if you say yes, he presses kisses all over your face

he’s overjoyed really, and he’s so excited to tell Lynette and freminet

as for father… he doesn’t know how she will react so he writes her a letter

and she’s happy, she supports, but comes the next question

”what do we do with the fatui?” Lyney explains that he doesn’t want the kid to even HEAR about the fatui, especially with the trauma he got from it but at the same time, he doesn’t want to lie

You two decide to hide it as best as you can from the kid and tell him when he’s older. It isn’t the best choice but LYNEY doesn’t want the kid to be haunted by the crimes and all

he pampers you, comes home earlier form missions and he genuinely loves you a lot, if you want something no matter how far, he WILL get it

once the babies come out, yes, babies, you gave birth to twins,

he was the happiest person ever, kissing you and thanking you and telling you that he’s so proud of you and all.

he raises the kids very well, he doesn’t want them to end up being sad at all.

magic tricks? Always there. Every time the kids say something magical lyney tríes his best to make it come true

je loves you all very much

anything the child wants, he will support.

he teaches them some magic tricks and buys them their own cards.

lynette and freminet visit often and they help you two take care of the kids, and arlecchino

shes really proud of lyney :)) and she won’t force the kids to join the fatui

lyney always does his all to make you all happy, and sometimes he even falls asleep while watching over the kids

he wants to make life as easy for you and sometimes he forgets about himself, but he appreciates it when you tell him you want the same for him

A/N: GOD THIS WAS SO FUN, sorry I didn’t add any periods or capitalization, it’s just headcanons and I don’t wanna be like EXTREMELY serious about this cause it’s just for fun. Anyways thanks for requesting !! I added LYNEY cause I love lyney so much like omfg. I didn’t color code it since I’m not using the tumblr app anymore (rip storage) and so that’s why I have to use the site. Anyways thank you for requesting and my bad again if I mischaracyerized them, just comment if I did and I’ll change it <3 comments on how I can improve are appreciated!

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

HiHIHI HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY JUST WANTED TO SAY I LOVE YOUR WORKS

I just binge read every single one of your Boothill fics and they all got me kicking my feet and everything!! I love how you write him and Ore is so cute I could actually explode 💥💥💥

Take your time or you can choose to ignore but can I have a request of Ore going missing (it's very small if I recall, so I kinda imagine it getting stuck under the couch or something) and just Boothill helping to look for it? TYSM IF YOU DO!

thank you so much for reading and enjoying my content!! I honestly dont know if i'll ever be able to write a boothill fic without making the reader some sort of mechanic. i may just stop breathing if i try- you can pry mechanic reader out of my cold dead hands

[1k w.count]

but just imagine, boothill isn't even on planet. he's off somewhere else when his phone starts pinging like nuts. back to back messages and before his text-to-voice can kick in, it starts blaring with phone calls.

"dadgummit..! who in the-" boothill huffs and puff as he fishes his phone from the space beside him where he had left it charging. his irritation all but simmered down when he saw your contact name flash across his screen.

...sugar is calling...

one his brows quirk up and he almost frowns at the incoming call. the hell is this? you never call him. like ever. you dont really call anyone really- more of a messaging kindof person. not to say he wasn't thrilled to hear from you though.

"is blowin' up my phone a new hobby of yours or somethin'?" boothill doesn't bother with a hello when he answers. neither do you.

"i can't find it!" you screech into the receiver. the feedback from the call's inital pick up and your yelling has the cowboy pulling his phone from his ear with a wince. beside the feedback shot into his eardrum, the sound of something metal being... knocked over...? also enters his head.

"sugar, you know i aint got a clue what you're talkin' about. i'm not in your star system right now," boothill tries to reason. you sound pretty distressed all things considered. so, he should at least hear you out. if all else, he can turn this ship around and speed it back to you.

he hears you whine; a whine that soon escalates into a full-on frustrated groan. oh. you were definitely upset about something. the only other times he's heard you like this is when a project isn't working out at any angle at all and you're one step away from throwing it out the window.

"it's ore." your voice is muffled behind your hand as you speak. "i lost it." you sound so pitiful as you confess your shame in losing the small robot companion boothill had brought back for you a while ago now. "i took my eyes off it for two seconds- and it was just... gone!" ore was so small; it should be common knowledge that the robot can hide just about anywhere it can squeeze itself into- but it usually trails around after you like a lost puppy! so, you've gotten sloppy at keeping an eye on it.

"you're blowin' up my phone because you lost track of your lil' assistant robot?" on one hand, boothill feels a little flattered that you feel like you can call him for stuff like this. the stuff that isn't really life threatening or to only deliver horribly, dire news. just something that's more or less inconvenient. on the other? he's almost annoyed because what if he was in the middle of a bounty? he isn't... but what if.

eh, whatever, he wouldn't be mad even if that were the case.

"look," boothill swallows back a chuckle and forces out a sigh, "i'm sure it ain't far. lil' guy never wanders off too far from you. just sit tight and it'll right back come to you."

"but what if it doesn't? what if ore's like lost-lost. like super lost? i can't just-"

"sugar," boothill interrupts you. "remind me again who programmed it?"

theres a beat of silence. "me."

"uh-huh, that's right. and didn't that very same you also program him with the maps of locations you frequent, like your shop?"

"i did."

"and why's that, sugar?" boothill has taken to plopping himself down in one of the chairs in his ship. luckily the spacecraft has an auto-pilot function as well as a cruise function when he was preoccupied- like now- or when he wasn't on an active job. there's a smirk on his face. he wonders if you can hear it through your slight panic.

"so that if it got lost... it'd know the way back."

"bingo," boothill snaps his free fingers together. "so, just calm down."

the phone call lasts not too much longer. a few more worried words from you, as well as a slight pout that you had lost what he had given you which almost made his systems overheat. with a few more reassurances that ore would make its way back to your loving palms sooner than you'd think, the call ends.

the galaxy ranger laughs when he finally see's just how many messages you spammed him with before deciding to just call him. there was wayyy too many. he wishes he was more tech-smart so he could screenshot the damage and send it to you as a tease.

still, despite the absurdity of it all, boothill was glad you called. even though you were frantic, he was happy to hear your voice. then he huffs and deflates in his chair, knees spread apart and back slouched low against the back. if he still had human bones, his spine would surley disapprove of such a position.

now he just misses you. dammit.

two system hours later, his phone pings. another message from you with a picture attatched.

[sugar]: he crawled up under the workshop sofa and got stuck in a spring. i finally heard him beeping after i stopped tossing things around [image attached] [sugar]: might install a tracking program

boothill chuckles softly as he looks at the photo of you. soot and oil splotch on your nose and cheeks from whatever you were tinkering with that day. your googles were around your neck and he was glad to see you were still using them as you should be. on your shoulder was ore. hooked into its safety carabiner and using its little, metal arms to hug to your cheek. its digital expression was scrunched up with fake, pixeled tears.

damn. boothill really wishes he was more tech-savvy now. i mean come one! what kind of cyborg can be nearly all robot, know how to steer and command a spaceship and still not know how to change a phone's background!

next time he's by the express, he'll have to ask dan heng.

[suhkusa]

Your vision focuses and unfocuses on a random poster on the wall as you try to come back to your senses. 

Part of you feels weird being alone and drunk. One or the other is fine, but combined just made you feel off. 

You would lay down to try and sleep this feeling away, but a wave of nausea hits you everytime. So you sat with a hunched back, letting the seconds pass. 

You’re forced out of your daze as the door creaks open.

“Keiji— oh,” you can feel your figure relax with disappointment, “you,”

Your eyes drift back to their original place as the man replies, “Oh, you,” Suna mocks.

Suna makes his way to the empty spot on the bed by you, huffing as he flops down onto his back

“Ew, can’t you go somewhere else?” your face scrunches up with disdain as you scoot closer to the pillows, putting a gap between the two of you.

“No, because people are fucking in them, Y/N. Unless you want to go and join them,” his tone has a tinge of sarcasm. 

“What?” you laugh as you turn your head to peer down at him, “Are you trying to get at me right now?” 

“Hell no,” his reply comes out slower than usual, but you don’t give it a second thought. “Don’t start, please,”

“Don’t start what, Rin?” his first name slips out but you don’t care to correct yourself.

At your words, Suna shoots up into a sitting position, eyes meeting yours. “Don’t fucking call me that,”

“You literally call me Y/N, don’t be a baby,” you roll your eyes before beginning to taunt him, “what are you going to do if I keep calling you Rin? Huh, Rin?”

“Maybe kill you,” his tone is pure sarcasm as the two of you continue to escalate the argument.

“Aw,” you fake blush, the alcohol pushes you to keep speaking, “Why don’t you kiss me after to make it better?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe I fucking would, you asshole!”

Neither of you realize how in-each-other’s-faces you were until it happens.

His hands, which were weirdly soft, come to cup at your cheeks and pull you into a kiss. It’s warm, and messy, and tastes strongly of alcohol.

And the worst part is that you have the full strength to pull away, and you don’t. In fact, you can feel your body melting into his.

Knock, knock.

“Y/N?”

The two of you instantly jump to opposite ends, you already getting on your feet. You're both wide-eyed but in silence.

It’s Keiji when the door opens, his eyes widened as he looks at the two of you. His eyes then lock onto you.

“What happened?”

“Just arguing with this dick again,” you see from the corner of your eyes as Suna rolls his eyes.

“Oh, well are you ready?”

The speed in which you walk towards Keiji and out the door is an answer for itself.

Maybe you should take Suna up on his offer of killing you.

BLAH BLAH BLAH — YOU

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

y/n genuinely wasn't expecting him to

suna wasn't expecting himself to either

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[chiyuuchu]

i loved so close yet so far a lot 🥰🥰 it was so cute, would you consider writing a part 2?

II. so close yet so far <3 (9th August 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Everyone can see it but them.

first part here!

You and Katsuki had always been close—closer than most. From the outside, your bond was something everyone admired, even envied. But as time went on, something began to shift between you two.

You started noticing the small things more—how his hand lingered a little longer on yours, how his gaze softened when he thought you weren’t looking, and how your heart raced whenever he was near. But no matter how much you tried to push these feelings down, they only seemed to grow stronger.

Katsuki noticed it too. He’d never been one to shy away from his emotions, but when it came to you, it was different. You were his best friend, the one constant in his life, and the idea of messing that up terrified him. So, he kept his feelings buried, pretending that everything was normal even when it was anything but.

It wasn’t long before your friends started to notice. Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and Kaminari would give you knowing looks whenever Katsuki did something sweet for you—something that was becoming more and more frequent. You’d hear them whispering when they thought you weren’t listening, talking about how “the whole world can see it” except for the two of you.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Mina said one day during lunch, leaning across the table with a smirk.

“You and Katsuki are like, the most obvious couple ever. Just admit it already.”

You laughed it off, trying to hide how her words made your heart race. “We’re just friends, Mina.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Sure, and I’m a pro hero already. Come on, Y/N, it’s so obvious you’re both into each other. What’s stopping you?”

You hesitated, glancing over at Katsuki, who was sitting a few tables away with Kirishima. “What if I’m wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way and I ruin everything?”

Mina’s expression softened. “I get it, but you have to ask yourself if staying in this weird limbo is really better than taking a chance.

The way you two are going, it’s only a matter of time before one of you slips up.”

Across the cafeteria, Katsuki was having a similar conversation with Kirishima.

“Come on, man, it’s obvious how you feel about her,” Kirishima said, nudging Katsuki’s shoulder. “Why not just tell her?”

Katsuki scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What then, huh? You expect me to just act like everything’s fine after that?”

Kirishima sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re both so stubborn. But, Katsuki, you can’t keep pretending forever. Eventually, it’s gonna hurt more to keep it in than to just say it.”

For the next few days, you and Katsuki danced around each other, both too afraid to make the first move. Your friends watched in exasperation as you continued to deny what was so obvious to everyone else.

It all came to a head one evening when you found yourself alone with Katsuki in his room, studying for an upcoming exam. The tension in the air was palpable, and every time your hands brushed or your eyes met, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

“Katsuki…” you started, breaking the silence. “Do you ever feel like… there’s something we’re not saying?”

Katsuki froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew exactly what you were implying.

“I..umm..” He started. And before he could open his mouth once more Kaminari and Sero barges in the room. “Guys! You have to see this! We just found out that— oh.. are we interrupting something.” Kaminari trails off.

The days continued in their hesitant rhythm. Katsuki and you maintained your usual routine—training together, hanging out, sharing late-night talks—but with a layer of unspoken tension simmering beneath the surface.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, you both found yourselves alone in the common room. Katsuki sat on the couch, his usual scowl softened as he watched you. You were curled up in a chair, trying to read a book but clearly distracted.

Katsuki’s mind raced as he watched you, the same thoughts swirling around: how close you were, how comfortable and yet distant you both felt. He knew his friends were right. They could see it, but he was too afraid to act on it. His internal battle raged until he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up, startled by the question. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” he said gruffly, though his tone lacked its usual harshness.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Maybe because I am trying to figure something out.”

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly masked his surprise with a snort. “Hmph. What’s there to figure out? It’s not like anything’s changed.”

“That’s the problem,” you said quietly. “Things have changed. I feel like… like something’s different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Katsuki’s chest tightened. He knew what was different but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he tried to play it off. “Maybe you’re just imagining things. You’re always overthinking.”

“Maybe,” you said, looking away. “Or maybe it’s just hard to ignore what’s right in front of me.”

Katsuki’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to tell you so badly, but the fear of ruining everything kept him silent. He stood abruptly, trying to hide his emotions. “Whatever. I’m heading to bed.”

You watched him leave, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that the feelings were there, but neither of you were willing to take that leap. As you lay in bed that night, the familiar sense of longing mixed with frustration settled over you.

The next day, during training, your friends noticed the lingering tension and decided to take matters into their own hands. Kirishima and Mina cornered Katsuki after practice, their faces serious but determined.

“Listen, Bakugou,” Kirishima said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got to do something. You can’t keep dancing around this.”

Mina nodded. “Yeah. It’s obvious that you both care about each other. If you don’t act soon, you might lose your chance.”

Katsuki’s face reddened. “I know, damn it. But it’s not that simple.”

Mina crossed her arms. “It is that simple. You both clearly like each other. Just talk to her.”

Katsuki sighed, feeling the weight of their words. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

That evening, after another training session, Katsuki found you alone in the common room. He took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage he had been lacking.

“You still figuring things out?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up, a mixture of hope and nervousness in your eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I just need to hear it from you.”

Katsuki’s heart raced. He swallowed hard, the words caught in his throat. “Look, Y/N… I don’t want to mess things up. We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

You stepped closer, your gaze softening. “Katsuki, if there’s something more between us, I’d rather know than live with the uncertainty.”

Katsuki met your eyes, the walls he had built up slowly crumbling. “I… I care about you, a lot. More than just a friend.”

Your heart soared, and a relieved smile spread across your face. “I care about you too, Katsuki. I was just too afraid to say it.”

For a moment, there was silence, but it was filled with a new understanding. Katsuki took your hand, his grip firm but gentle.

“Then let’s stop pretending,” he said quietly. “Let’s just be honest with each other.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Yes, let’s.”

In that moment, the fear and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a newfound clarity and connection. As you stood there, hand in hand, you both knew that the next step would be different, but it was a step you were both ready to take together.

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Physically Unable To Love

Jiyan x Reader

Notes: Reader based off of oc (written with reader inserts), gn reader, they/them used, gnc Rover (uses any pronoun), Chixia being the worst wingwoman, extreme romantic pining, unresolved feelings, possible ooc Chixia (I'm going off of vibes from what I've played)

Yet again this man has invaded my head and so I shall write more. Also title is more dramatic then what's actually written lmao.

-

"Come on! It can't be that hard to just ask him on a date!" Chixia exclaimed, frustration evident on her features as she stared at the person across from her. "The worst he can say is no, [Y/n]!"

"And that's the problem! I can't handle a no!" They yelled back, keeping their hands gripping their hair. "I'm self aware enough to know that! It's better if I just get over-"

"Oh hey there he is." Rover casually announced, looking over in the direction of where the general was. [Y/n] was quick to slam their head into the table, cursing as the pain flooded their system.

"Now's your chance!"

"Chixia no-"

"Hey General!! Over here!! We have room if you need a table to sit at!" The redhead called out excitedly, gaining the attention of the man. He carefully walks over, studying [Y/n] who refused to put their head up in greeting.

"Sorry if I'm barging in."

"Not at all." Rover quickly replied, nudging his elbow into [Y/n]'s side. They hissed, glaring at them before sighing as they lifted their head to meet Jiyan's eyes.

"You're fine, General."

"You alright? Are you having one of those moments again?" He asked, sitting down across from them. His eyes studied their tense muscles, brows furrowed in concern. "If you want I can-"

"I'm fine!" [Y/n] interrupted, raising their voice a bit. They flinched once they felt eyes of the other patrons on them, gently resting their head on the table again. "You don't need to do that thing again."

"That thing again?" Both Chixia and Rover asked, their eyes moving back and forth between the two. [Y/n]'s cheeks burned at the memory, practically being cuddled by the general when they grew overwhelmed one evening. They didn't want to remember it, for it only made their heartbeat even more rapid around the man.

"Anyway!" They quickly said, moving the conversation along. "It's a rarity to see you in the city Jiyan! Means times are a bit more peaceful huh?"

"Yes, there's not as many Tacet Discords showing up lately. It's good for the soldiers morale too, since many weren't able to see their families during the threat of the Threnodian's rewakening." The conversation then drifted off, with [Y/n] barely interacting with Jiyan. Chixia and Rover both tried to make them join, but it was to no avail. After some time the general said his farewells and left the group.

"What was that?!" Chixia yelled. "You literally only talked to him like once!"

"Well sorry! Once the food got brought in I suddenly grew overwhelmed!"

"What she means," Rover began, placing her hand on the redhead's. "Is that we just want to help with you-"

"Look I just can't!" They screamed, slamming their hands on tbe table. They flinched once everyone around them grew quiet, sitting back down. "It's not that simple guys. I just...I'm not ready to hear a rejection okay?"

"And what makes you so sure it will be a rejection?" The dark haired person asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Because why wouldn't it be? Even if it's not because he doesn't see me in that way, which he totally doesn't by the way, it's because he's too busy with being a general. I know he would just see himself as a burden like I do with myself and think a rejection is better than a potentially dead partner!"

The two look at them in silence, digesting their words.

"You really thought about it that much?" Chixia asked softly, narrowing her eyes in concern. "I mean I'm sure-"

"I know you're trying to help, but please. Just let me...get over it. It's better than experiencing heartbreak. Besides I have my own as to why I can't be in a relationship." [Y/n] smiled sadly. "I have to find some way back home to my world after all."

[ohtobeleah]

I like to think the song 'I Love You, I'm Sorry' Specifically the Bridge of the song, is very Logan Howlett x Reader coded. And stick with me for a moment because I'll explain what I mean. It's early days, like truly early days in your relationship. So early that you don't even know if the feelings you feel are real or just lust-coated wishes.

I love you, I'm sorry

You were the best but you were the worst As sick as it sounds, I loved you first I was a dick, it is what it is A habit to kick, the age-old curse I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad Stare at the crash, it actually works Making amends, this shit never ends I'm wrong again, wrong again

I feel like it would be the reader who has this shit on repeat in her little cafe. Just doing the ordering, or enjoying five minutes of peace that comes once in a blood moon when you run a cafe that's a vigilante's wet dream.

"You listen to this song an awful lot," Logan grumbled as he took a sip of his coffee. Black, nothing sweet, no milk, no cream. "It's like an unrelenting Groundhog Day of bad music." Deep down, Logan only says it because he knows your attention is on the books in front of you and not on him.

"If you'd pay attention to the lyrics, you old fart, then maybe you'd understand why I like it so much," You don't even look up from where you're writing down your next order of alternative milk. But smile nevertheless because you know Logan has no intention of admitting he'd ever be into the same music as you. "It's about you."

"Like fuck it's about me," Logan replies with a frown. "How is it about me?"

"Logan," You sigh as you finally look up across the table. You're slightly frustrated because you need to focus, but you can't be mad at the brooding oldie sitting across from you when he gives you that shit-eating grin you love so much. He wanted your attention, he got it. "I sometimes wish you had mind-reading capabilities because then you'd know when I'm tellin' you to piss off." Logan chuckles at your attempt to flirt. He can smell your arousal from here, but would never mention it. The two of you had never crossed that line...Yet. It's not the only thing he can smell. He can smell your perfume. The Black Plum and Vanilla one. He can smell your shampoo. The juniper and white lilly one. He can even smell your annoyance for the way he's tapping his knee against yours under the table. The gentle knocks keep breaking your concentration and it's making you more and more flustered.

"I'd only wanna read your lips anyway," Logan takes yet another sip of the coffee he loves endlessly but would never admit to your face that your coffee doesn't make him want to kill himself. "Come on, enlighten me a little here."

You just stare at Logan for a moment, really just drinking in his entire being. Fuck, you were really falling for his son of a bitch, weren't you?

"You always call yourself the worst Logan there is. The worst version of yourself across all the realities and different timelines," You explain as you pack up your things. "But to me, you're the best, and I loved you before I ever had any chance to see your flaws, for the many that you fucking have," You sit in silence for a moment, just at peace with the fact you'd told Logan that you loved him in a very unconditional, non-traditional way. "Do with that information what you will, I have work to do you."

Later that same evening, when Logan knocks on your front door, you glimpse the song he'd last been listening to on the little iPod you gave him that you found in an old junk drawer. You raise a single brow as you lean against the doorframe and smirk.

"Gracie Abrams, Huh?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Ilya

[yelenasdiary]

OK OK OK I have a request go with me here. What about Florence with an insecure reader but she’s plus size she’s insecure about like sitting on Florence’s lap (and face ���) so maybe like a fluffy smut or something idk I just haven’t been feeling to good about my body these days. You 100% don’t have to do this. Ok love you bye!!!!😘

Why Me?

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Flo helps you cope when your mind gets the better of you.

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Body image issues, Mentions of Depression & Cyber Bullying| 1.3K

AC: I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t include any smut or suggestive themes as I simply do not do that when writing celebrity x reader so I hope what I have written is still somewhat what you were looking for x

Dating a celebrity wasn't easy, especially when you never thought you were built for the spotlight of any kind. Birthdays were usually small just to keep the attention off you as much as possible and you never liked it much when people would make a fuss about your achievements. You were shy, but it was one of the many things Florence, your girlfriend, loved about you. 

Florence absolutely loves showing you off. At family events, she was always seen proudly holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist. It took a long time for her to get you to say yes to attending a red-carpet event with her. Florence had this way of making you smile and laugh when you didn't know you needed it the most, it was like she was always one step ahead of your insecurities and thoughts. 

But not everything was rainbows and butterflies. The world can be cruel, not matter how big or small you are, people are always going to express their opinions and it was one of the biggest things that Florence quickly noticed that was affecting you. Whenever the paparazzi snapped photos of you and Florence hand in hand walking the streets of LA or the rare chance that caught you kissing in a busy café in London, there were always comments. 

Harsh and cruel comments directed mostly to you, comments on your body, weight and how people couldn't understand why Florence was with you. Most of the time you were able to avoid seeing them or ignored them whenever you did see them but being human, they got to you sometimes. You've struggled with thoughts about yourself for a while and it never helped when your depression would side with those thoughts. Florence hated the comments, and she would know when you had read some. 

"What's on your mind darling?" Florence's raspy voice brought your attention back to earth as you looked up from the plate of food in front of you. "Huh? Oh, sorry" you quickly collected yourself, "I'm just a little tired, I think I might be coming down with something" you added. Florence tilted her head slightly to the right, "don't give me that" she said knowing you weren't being truthful with her. 

You sighed, placing the silver fork beside the plate of untouched food, you knew there was no hope in lying to her. She studied your body language while you racked your brain to form the words you wanted to say but not wanting to upset your girlfriend. "I guess, I just" you started, avoiding eye contact with the blonde knowing full well that if you looked into her big green eyes that the tears you felt trying their best to build would break. Florence reached over the table and gently placed her hand on top of your left, "it's okay baby, take your time" she assured you. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before you finally broke it and spoke the thoughts that had been circling your mind for the last few days. "Why me?" You asked, "I mean, you could have anybody in the world, I mean that literally. You could have somebody who isn't….well…. me" you spoke, your eyes dropping to your lap. 

Florence rose from her seat and walked over to you and kneeled, taking your hands into hers. "Look at me darling, please" she spoke. Slowly, you lifted your head up, looking at her with tears building up, "where is this coming from?" She asked, her thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. A tear streamed down your right cheek when you saw nothing but love and concern from your partner, "I guess" you paused for a moment, "I feel so ugly" you said, "sometimes I think everybody is right, you can do a lot better than me" you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Without hesitation, Florence stood up and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Oh darling" she said softly. She didn't need to know how this all started, she noticed recently how you were slowly hiding yourself away from those around you, avoiding going out to lunch with Florence, afraid of what more people would say. She hated it so much that people could be so cruel and not think about what their words could do to another human. She gently rubbed your back, letting you break down in her arms. You were tired and she knew that. 

She kneeled down in front of you again, wiping the tears from your cheeks, "I don't want anybody else, I don't need anybody else" she assured you, "You don't see yourself the way I see you, all those strangers don't see you the way I see you, they don't see the beautiful soul that makes my day better every morning, they don't see how hard working you are. You care so, so much about every single person around you, you make sure that everybody feels seen and included and it's something I love about you, but it also makes me wonder why you don't treat yourself with the same kindness. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met; I am so lucky that you picked me. I am so lucky to love you. I love that I get to wake up next to you every morning and coming home to you is all I look forward to each day. Darling, nobody is perfect but you are perfect to me and I know that sounds cliché but I wouldn't have you any other way. I just want you to be happy" she said, ever breaking eye contact with you. She brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "how about this weekend you and I take a trip, wherever you want to go. We'll take some time away from everything and just enjoy our time" she suggested. 

You nodded, loving the idea of not having to worry about your insecurities. Although they didn't go away completely but Florence always had a magic way of making you forget about them. 

----

The sun kissed the top of the lake that you looked over, sitting on Florence's lap while she traced random shapes and patterns on your back. Like the sun, her presence and comfort brought a sense of warmth to you. Nothing else mattered in this moment but spending it with the one person you loved and adored so much. The weekend had only started, you and Florence had booked out a lake house for the weekend to enjoy, arriving in the early hours of the morning Florence still was able to cook up an amazing breakfast which the two of you enjoyed on the porch overlooking the lake. 

"It's so beautiful here" you commented as your eyes traced over the mountains that overlooked the lake. Florence smiled softly, "it is, isn't it" she replied. Although she didn't care much for the view of the lake but more the soft smile that you wore proudly. She placed a kiss on your cheek which only made you blush at her unexpected affection. 

"Thank you" you said as you looked over your shoulder at Florence, "I'm sorry that my mind gets the better of me sometimes" you added. 

"Oh darling, you don't need to apologise nor thank me" she smiled before leaning up and kissing your lips gently, "just promise me that when you start to feel down again, you talk to me. I am always here for you, my love. I'd drop everything just to see you smile, never forget that" she added before you kissed her once more, smiling against her lips before you pulled away. 

"I love you" you whispered to her.

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[cinnamoneve]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you offer to join gojo on a 8-hour roadtrip for work. as usual, it's a big deal to him. hope you're ready for eight hours with your sweet boyfriend! ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: gojo brainrot on the mind. i need to write about this man so bad. please enjoy ♡

no good deed goes unpunished.

the mantra repeats itself as you settle in for an eight hour car ride across the country for satoru’s work.

you offered to accompany him, after all. something about him driving solo for eight hours didn’t sit right with you–at least together, you could stop for meals and breaks, swap driving shifts, and keep each other company between the points of interest.

satoru, always the enthusiastic one, needed to make this an occasion in and of itself. since offering to join him, he’s made a point of cleaning the car, picking out your favorite snacks and goodies, curating a personal playlist, buying you a new cozy outfit to wear; it was all too much. 

it’s almost like he was wired to be the best partner: if not, prove he is. small happenings became momentous occasions, outings became intricate dates, and everything was worth celebrating. no moment was too insignificant to find love and happiness in.

sometimes, you worry it’s just a big façade. that, at the end of the day, it’s just a big act in order to trick himself into finding joy in the simple things; to find catharsis in the mundane and silver lining in even the most normal situation. after knowing him for so long, it’s hard to read him. once you feel you’ve gotten a grip on him, he seems to trickle a little closer off the edge of understanding. you’re not one to prod. 

no good deed goes unpunished.

satoru’s shift was first. you woke up early to hit the road so you’d be on location when he was needed–you’d hang around the town while he headed off to do whatever he had to. you didn’t mind the drive, and he didn’t mind the company. it was you, after all.

because of the early rise, the two of you barely had enough time to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. it was another night of him hogging the blankets, asking you meaningless questions right as you’re about to drift off to sleep (e.g. ‘what if all of my toes were as long as fingers? would you still love me the same?)–it was not a priority to get a full night’s sleep.

satoru’s hair was still messy. you practically had to drag him out of bed to brush his teeth and get ready for the day. unbeknownst to you, he bought himself a matching sweatsuit that is exactly the same as yours. seeing him walk out to the car was shocking, to say the least.

if you were told years ago that you’d be wearing matching sweatsuits with this man, you’d think it was a joke. tying him down to a committed relationship was a feat alone–everything else corny came natural to him.

satoru faked a shocked look when seeing you in the car, “well, one of us has to change.”

“it’s too early for this, satoru,” you laughed. the sun had barely kissed the horizon and you’ve had your first taste of his humor. you playfully punched his arm before putting on your seatbelt.

for the first 30 minutes of the drive, the two of you barely said any words to each other. it was an unspoken, yet always practiced routine for you in the morning: no matter what time you both get up. you’ll greet each other with a warm embrace and kiss, maybe cuddle for a little while in bed, but afterwards you don’t talk for a while. there’s a cooling period of waking up and preparing for the day–sometimes you just need a bit to get your bearings. between you two, it’s been in practice for a while. today was no exception.

“i guess you’d break up with me then, huh?”

satoru’s silence-breaking question makes you sit up in your seat and turn away from the window to look at him. 

“what are you talking about?”

“you never answered my question last night. i think you’re just avoiding it because you’d break up with me.”

you can’t help but stare at him in shock. awe, even. you hadn’t noticed that your mouth was open, but you closed it quickly when you noticed.

satoru kept his eyes on the road. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not–there’s a fat chance he was staring so intently at the road to not laugh.

“are you kidding?” you can’t help but ask innocently.

“no. it hurt my feelings a lot, actually.”

now you know he’s kidding. 

“you’re an ass, satoru.”

“that’s still not an answer” he refused to let it go.

“hmm. well, if you need an answer, i think i'd make you custom shoes so you wouldn’t have to walk around barefoot. and i’d sew you really big socks to make sure your feet don’t get cold either. is that a good enough answer for you?”

satoru’s face grew into a grin at your notion, “yeah, that’s more than enough”

“what about you? what if i was the one with really long toes, would you still love me?”

you waited for a bit, expecting satoru to sweep in with his charm and knock the answer out of the park with some cheesy platitude.

he answered, “i think it would be hard.”

all you could do was dramatically sigh as he laughed.

satoru was just like that. he’d ask questions about any scenario and question your love or faith or trust in him. they’d be under the guise of a fun question, an icebreaker, or a conversation point. the catch was that he’d only time he’d ask them is in the wee hours of the night, when the world slows, and it’s just the two of you in the stillness of your apartment.

when the tables were turned on him, he’d deflect. rarely did he mean it though, he was just not the best at articulating how he really felt about it all. sometimes you wondered if these pointless questions were relationship checks with a deeper meaning; as if him having extra-long toes was indicative of the next fifty years of your lives together.

maybe in his mind, it was. even if you hated the idea of him having extra-long toes, even when you didn’t know how to make custom shoes, even if you couldn’t sew, or any meaningless task he propped up was not in your wheelhouse:it became part of your wheelhouse. you’d probably lasso the moon for him, if he asked. 

the question wasn’t really about extra-long toes. just like your answer wasn’t really about shoes and socks. it was about what’s between the lines of his question and your sweet answer. satoru couldn’t care less about the consequences of anything, whether it be something as trivial as having extra-long toes. what he really was interested in and loved was the way you’d love and accept him no matter the hardship. you knew this, he knew this, but he’d continue to hide it under the guise of a question with no real substance. it’s just how he operated. 

in reality, he would love you if you had extra-long toes or if you had no toes or if you were a worm or any other question you could ask. it all made him a little bashful, so he could only ever deflect it. often when he does this, he’ll say one thing and mean something else. you expected it, you loved it, and gladly took it with open arms.

two hours into the drive, satoru suggested grabbing a quick bite at the next town you pull into. you pulled over at some 24 hour mom-and-pop-type diner for some fuel. with some caffeine in both of your systems, the sun was peeking through the treetops to make its first appearance of the day as you were exiting the restaurant. 

“do you want me to take over driving?” you offered while walking to the car.

“i don’t mind, i’m good to go for a bit more” 

“you shouldn’t drive the whole way, satoru. i’m not going to let you.”

“whatever you say, beautiful,” 

satoru sat back in the driver’s seat while you just rolled your eyes and smiled. he reset the gps and put on the ‘official’ road trip playlist.

it was a tasteful blend of just about everything–your favorite songs, his favorites, and ones you had discovered together that seemed to fit. the two of you chatted between singing it all together. selfishly, he’d put some of your favorite songs in there just to hear you sing them. and all he’d do is pretend he didn’t know the words, as if he didn’t commit them to his memory as soon as he could.

you shared snacks, exchanged stories, and talked like the two of you had an entire lifetime of news to catch up on. everything flowed so easily with him. you felt like you could live in this moment forever. secretly, you hoped you would. without any hardships, any fights or arguments, any time away from each other or things unsaid. the only struggle you’d ever face is wondering the next time satoru would ask you to feed him a pretzel.

by hour six, satoru had stopped singing entirely and went back to staring at the road in silence. getting the impression he was tired, you told him you had to stop to use the bathroom next time he saw a rest stop. you’d have to ambush him when he got out of the car to steal the driver's seat–you know his stubbornness would never relinquish it.

while he got out to stretch, you snuck in his seat and started moving the mirrors to get yourself situated. satoru caught you and tried to coerce you into sitting back on your own side, but failed miserably. all he could do was pout and put his seatbelt on. 

for someone who fought against not driving, he passed out instantly. he settled into the chair under your very fuzzy blanket, turned on the heated seat, and kicked his shoes off. always the drama. there’s something amusing about the sight, but it was more endearing than anything.

it gives you a bit of time to get lost in your own thoughts and concentrate on the road ahead. literally and figuratively. what a privilege and honor it was for the love of your life to sleep soundly next to you, trusting you so much that he can let his guard down and be comfortable. seeing this side of him was always a treat. part of you wondered if he’d notice if you pulled over just to admire him.

you wanted him to sleep, rest up, gain his strength back, and feel well enough to take on the day. you would drive for hours if it meant he’d sleep just a little longer. 

no good deed goes unpunished.

you had thought of this phrase earlier, wondering why you even offered to go with satoru if he was just going to ask a million questions about nothing truly meaningful. but what is ‘punishment?’ being loved unconditionally? is it fair to call that a punishment? sure, he asked them a mile a minute. he asked if you wanted to play “i spy” when there was nothing significant around. he made a joke about playing truth or dare, and then dared you to kiss him, as if you haven’t done it a million times over.

satoru was many, many things. selfish at his worst and dramatic all the time, the laundry list of positives in his life could have an argument made for a negative that outweighs it. something about him felt like home, like comfort; the feeling you get when you have a warm bowl of soup, or settling in with a hot drink. his love warms you from the inside out, and manages to turn and touch every fiber of your being.

you’d never tell him this, though. it’s good to keep him humble sometimes when you fear his ego gets the better of him.

no good deed goes unpunished.

punishment looks really good at the moment. a beautiful boy sleeping soundly next to you as you listen to a song he swore to show you months ago. it doesn’t seem fair to call it a punishment when it can’t get better than this; but you find yourself looking forward to your next good deed.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 30

CHARACTER: Tyler Owens

KINK: Car Sex (Truck Sex)

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (biting, p in v sex, semi in public/where you could get caught)

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The low rumble of the truck as you cruise along the highway is oddly comforting, blending with the soft tunes of 90s country coming through the radio. Tyler drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, one arm stretched casually along the top, his hand dangerously close to where you’re sitting. His confidence is effortless—grounded, but with a spark of mischief in his eyes whenever he glances your way. After getting caught in that rainstorm, he’d shot you a grin and shrugged it off, wet t-shirt and all. But it had left you flustered, noticing every inch of him in ways you usually tried to keep to yourself.

“So,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence. “Worth the detour for that burger, huh?”

You let out a laugh, grateful for the chance to ease some of the tension building between you two. “Absolutely. I think I would’ve wasted away if we’d just gone straight back.”

He chuckles, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. The wet fabric of his t-shirt clings to him as if daring you not to look, showing off the muscle in his shoulders, the veins on his forearms.

“You okay over there?” he asks, his voice teasing but warm. The mischievous look in Tyler's eyes is unmistakable, even if he’s trying to keep his focus on the road. 

But then you decide two can play this game. Your lips curve into a smirk before you adjust in your seat, letting yourself have a little more room to lean over the console.

When your hand first rests on his knee, he seems amused, even relaxed, but when your fingers start to move upward, you notice his jaw tense slightly, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. 

The subtle power in his reaction emboldens you, and you can’t help but push things just a little further.

Your fingers trail over his thigh, brushing the front of his jeans. You feel him tense under your touch, his breath catching slightly, and then you catch the slight shake of his head, paired with a low chuckle.

He clears his throat. "Now, just what do you think you're up to?" His voice is low, rougher than before, laced with both amusement and a touch of restraint. You glance up, meeting his gaze, feigning innocence with a small shrug.

"Up to?" you say, keeping your voice as light as possible. "I'm just sitting here. What do you think I’m doing?"

Tyler’s hand, still resting over yours, gives another squeeze, this time firmer, his thumb tracing over your knuckles.

“I think,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you know exactly what you're doing.” He releases his hand from yours just long enough to turn up the music, using it as an excuse to adjust his posture—maybe to regain a bit of control.

You flash him a playful smile. "Oh, come on, Tyler. I thought you liked it when I kept you on your toes."

His laugh is warm, a little breathy. “Trust me, I do.” He pauses, his eyes cutting over to you with a look that’s both soft and intense. “Just not when I’m driving, sweetheart.”

The growl that escapes Tyler’s lips is low and guttural as you press kisses into his neck, your teeth grazing the sensitive spots you know drive him wild. His breaths come shorter, more strained, and he shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the road as you continue your teasing, unrelenting.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with warning, “if you don’t stop, I swear…” But even as he says it, his hips move up instinctively to meet the pressure of your hand. He’s torn between maintaining control and giving in, and the internal struggle shows in every flex of his jaw, every grip of his hands as he tries to hold on.

You lean up, letting your breath brush against his ear. “Relax, Tyler. I trust you,” you whisper, your voice teasing, knowing full well that your words make it even harder for him to resist.

With a low curse, he tries once more, his tone nearly pleading, “Honey, you’re gonna make us crash.” But even as he says it, his body betrays him, pressing into your hand with increasing urgency. His breath hitches as you run your fingers along the front of his jeans again, this time applying more pressure. His body leans into yours, the tension nearly vibrating between you.

He finally pulls his hand from the wheel just long enough to grab your wrist, halting your movements. 

"Alright," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, eyes still locked forward, his grip firm but full of unspoken promise. “You’re going to pay for that when we get back.”

You then hear Tyler and sigh and curse under his breath as he glances at the rearview mirror. You watch him start to slow the truck and pull over to the shoulder of the highway. You glance through the back window and see the unmistakable red and blue lights of a police officer.

The moment Tyler pulls the truck over, the tension shifts from playful to cautious. You can see the way his expression tightens as he watches the officer approach the window. The flashing red and blue lights reflect off the dashboard, casting a pulsing glow that heightens the mood in the cab.

“Just stay calm,” you murmur, trying to reassure him as you lean back in your seat, your heart still racing from your earlier teasing. Tyler nods, his jaw set as he rolls down the window, the humid air rushing in, mingled with the scent of rain.

The officer bends slightly to peer into the cab, his demeanor professional but relaxed. “Evening, sir. I need to see your license and registration.”

Tyler fumbles with the glove compartment, glancing nervously at you as he retrieves the documents. You pass them to him, your fingers brushing against his in a moment that feels all too intimate given the circumstances. He hands the documents out the window, maintaining eye contact with the officer.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks, his voice steady as he inspects the papers.

“Um, I’m guessing it’s because I was speeding?” Tyler replies, a hint of a nervous chuckle in his tone. You can see the flush creeping up his neck as the officer raises an eyebrow.

“You were weaving a bit too, which is why I stopped you. Have you been drinking tonight?”

Tyler shakes his head vigorously. “No, sir. Not at all. Just trying to get back to the motel before that storm hits.” He gestures vaguely toward the darkening sky, which is heavy with rain clouds.

The officer narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been speeding and weaving for several miles. I’d like to know what really happened back there. You weren't on your phone were you?”

You shift in your seat, biting your lip to suppress a grin at Tyler’s awkwardness. He looks over at you for a split second, searching for inspiration, then takes a deep breath, his confidence wavering slightly.

“Honestly, I was just trying to outrun the storm,” he continues, though it sounds more like a half-hearted excuse than a real explanation. “I thought I could make it to the motel before it hit.”

The officer studies him, and you can sense the moment he sees through the facade. “You realize that speeding is dangerous, especially in this weather?”

Tyler nods, his expression earnest. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean to—I just got caught up in the moment. This one here’s a little afraid of storms. I was just trying to get her back to the hotel, and I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”

There’s a slight pause as the officer glances between Tyler and you. You can see the wheels turning in his mind as he assesses the situation, perhaps weighing whether to let Tyler off with a warning or to issue a ticket.

“Alright, hang tight for a minute,” the officer finally says, stepping back to his patrol car.

Tyler sinks back into his seat, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Well, that went better than expected,” he mutters, though the humor in his voice is overshadowed by the unease lingering in the air.

You watch him closely, noticing how the blush on his cheeks deepens as he tries to make light of the situation. “You could’ve just told him we were getting carried away in the truck,” you tease.

Tyler shoots you a look, half-grinning. “And risk getting us both in trouble? No thanks.”

A few tense minutes pass before the officer returns, a speeding ticket in hand. “Here you go, sir. Just drive a little more carefully next time,” he advises, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, officer,” Tyler replies, his voice steady as he takes the ticket.

As Tyler pulls back onto the highway, the silence in the truck feels heavier than before. You notice the way his jaw is clenched tight, a contrast to the usual relaxed demeanor he carries. His grip on the steering wheel is firm, knuckles white against the red paint. You can sense the tension radiating from him, and it sends a flutter of nervous energy through you.

The muted sounds of the truck and the rhythmic thumping of rain against the windshield fill the air, amplifying the weight of the quiet. After several minutes of driving in silence, you decide it’s time to break the ice.

“Tyler, I—” you start, but he quickly shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, though not unkindly, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

You bite your lip, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you pulled over. I’ll pay the speeding ticket, I promise.”

At this, Tyler finally glances at you, a flicker of something playful sparking in his eyes. “Oh, you think that’s all it’s going to take? Just paying the ticket and calling it a day?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends your heart racing.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows raised, your curiosity piqued.

His lips curl into a smirk, the corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to hint at his mischievous side. “Let’s just say I have a different kind of punishment in mind for you once we get back to the hotel.”

You feel a heat rising to your cheeks at his words. The implication hangs in the air, thick and electric. You squeeze your legs together, suddenly aware of how your body reacts to his playful threat.

“Oh, really?” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rush of excitement coursing through you.

“Yeah, really.” He finally turns his head to look at you, and his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of confidence and something deeper. “I think you need a reminder about what happens when you play around like that while I’m driving.”

Your breath hitches slightly at the way he says it, each word laced with an underlying promise. The thought of being alone with him in the privacy of your motel room makes your heart race even faster. You can already imagine the way he might hold you, the playful banter turning into something much more heated.

“And what kind of reminder do you have in mind?” you challenge, a playful smile tugging at your lips, emboldened by the way he looks at you.

He chuckles softly, the tension in his jaw easing just a bit. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Just know it won’t be easy for you,” he replies, the playful edge in his voice making your pulse quicken even more.

Tyler’s sudden turn off the highway a few minutes later takes you by surprise. You watch as he pulls into a quiet rest stop, the lot deserted and shadowed under a dim streetlight. The familiar rumble of his truck’s engine fades as he shifts into park. His eyes remain fixed ahead for a moment, his jaw tense, but when he glances at you, there’s a spark there—a confident glint that’s all Tyler.

The sound of his belt coming undone pulls your attention fully to him. As he unzips his jeans and reaches down, revealing just how affected he is, your breath catches. This is a side of Tyler you've never seen quite like this. His usual easygoing confidence has morphed into something bolder, more assertive, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

“Shorts off,” he says, his voice a low command, his gaze intense as he meets your eyes. “Then get your pretty little ass over here. I've decided I don't want to wait.”

You feel your face start to turn red, taken aback by his tone but undeniably drawn in by it. He’s never been this forward, and it leaves you momentarily stunned. But then he raises an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to his lap, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You glance around, the empty lot eerily still and quiet, but the thrill of the situation overrides any hesitation.

Heart racing, you pop the button on your denim shorts, sliding them down your legs. Climbing over the console, you’re careful around the equipment scattered between you and Tyler, a reminder of the storm-chasing gear piled up in his truck. Finally, you settle onto his lap, your legs straddling him as his hands come to rest on your hips, grounding you there with a firm, possessive grip.

There’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, and in that moment, Tyler’s gaze alone makes you feel as if you’re his entire world. The energy between you is electric, leaving no doubt that he’s completely in control—and you’re exactly where you want to be.

The atmosphere in the truck has completely shifted as Tyler leans his seat back to make a little more room, his grip firm on your hips, guiding you over him with steady, unyielding confidence.

Your pulse is racing as you straddle him, trying to ignore the thrill of being in such an exposed place. The dark, quiet lot around you seems to fade, leaving just you and Tyler in the cocoon of his truck.

As you sink down onto Tyler, his hands grip your hips with a possessiveness that sends a shiver through you. The initial stretch is intense, leaving you breathless, but Tyler doesn’t give you long to adjust. He bucks his hips up, pressing you fully against him, your bodies flush as he draws you into a rhythm that’s all-consuming. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close, making it feel like you’re the only two people in the world despite the thrill of the open parking lot.

Every movement becomes a test of restraint as his hands guide your hips, the friction pushing you closer to the edge. The weight of his body beneath you, the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne—it all heightens the intensity, and soon, your breaths are mingling, matching in urgency.

Tyler’s mouth finds the shell of your ear, and you hear his low, husky whisper, laced with a mix of adoration and authority. “You’re not allowed to finish until we’re back at the motel, you understand?” He murmurs, his voice firm. The promise of “punishment” hangs in the air, thickening the tension between you.

A thrill of rebellion flares up, daring you to ignore his words, but you catch his gaze, steady and knowing. Tyler’s eyes are locked on you, as if he’s memorizing every reaction, every gasp. 

He knows every inch of your body, every telltale sign of your nearing climax, and with every arch of your hips, he can sense your resolve slipping.

You feel yourself teetering right on the edge, one or two more movements of your hips and you know you could get yourself there, but is it worth the punishment that would come with it?

His mouth is close to your ear, his breath hot and unsteady. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, as he senses your resolve wavering. “Not until we’re back at the motel. Remember?”

A shiver runs through you, and it’s taking everything in you to keep from crossing the line, but the look on his face—equal parts teasing and commanding—keeps you hanging on. Tyler keeps up the rhythm, each movement an expert test of your self-control. The whole situation has you electrified, both daring and savoring the challenge he's given you.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, his gaze unwavering. “Good girl,” he whispers approvingly, and the praise sends another shiver down your spine. 

Your eyes catch the faint glint of headlights in the distance, and your heart skips as you realize they're moving closer, aimed right at the rest stop.

You lean in, whispering urgently to Tyler, “Someone’s coming.”

Instead of slowing down or pulling back, Tyler’s grip tightens around your waist, his hands pressing you firmly against him as his eyes meet yours with a mischievous glint. “Then you’d better get me there fast,” he murmurs, voice dark and steady, daring you to rise to the challenge.

His hips thrust up, driving into you with an intensity that makes your head fall back, a loud, breathy moan slipping from your lips before you can stop it. You can feel him everywhere, his hands firm on your skin, his chest rising and falling under yours as the rhythm between you builds to a dizzying pace.

The headlights draw nearer, their beams glinting off the side mirrors, and with a low, guttural groan, Tyler buries himself deep, his entire body tensing beneath you. A shudder runs through him as he lets go, filling you completely, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You feel him press his lips to your forehead as his hand starts to rub your back.

You carefully shift back over to the passenger seat, your cheeks flushed and your legs shaky, feeling the warmth of Tyler's release start to slip out, dampening your underwear. You quickly tug your shorts back on, fingers fumbling as you catch your breath. Glancing over, you see Tyler, his own breathing just settling, as he casually tucks himself back in, zipping his jeans and securing his belt as though nothing happened.

Once he’s ready, he flashes you a satisfied grin, throwing the truck back into gear and pulling out onto the highway, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips as you lean back in the seat, finally feeling your pulse slow.

“Am I forgiven yet?” you ask, your voice still a little breathless.

Tyler’s eyes flick over to you, his smirk deepening. “Forgiven?” He chuckles softly. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t punishment,” he says, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. “That was just the warm-up. You’ll get your real punishment when we get back to the motel.”

The anticipation makes you shiver, and you can’t help but squeeze your legs together, bracing for what’s to come.

[rizsu]

please, be mines !! atsumu miya.

sum. love-struck atsu tries to court his new crush.

atsumu's confused. he finds himself sitting in his car practically devouring you with his gaze—no, none of you know each other but atsumu feels like he's in one of those romantic stories where the lovers reincarnate into the modern era.

am i a pervert, he fights with himself for an answer. by no means does he want to ever come off as a stalker but if you saw a silver coloured car with G5 tint parked parallel from your position... yeah he'd look like a creep. for another ten minutes atsumu sits there. he feels like those women in hallmark movies sitting at the table sighing lovingly as the blow their cup of coffee. “you know what,” atsumu talks to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt before finally making a move.

on your side, you're inside the café wiping the tables. you work here as a little side job—it's your friend's café to be exact, she begged you to work and you needed a part-time job to keep yourself occupied before summer. just seconds before you turn the ‘opened’ sign to closed, a rushed pair of arms slam against the glass door welcoming a lanky male.

you cannot be serious, your eyes twitch at the sight of two handprints on the very clean and very sparkly door. switching your mood into customer service mood, you welcome him, “hi! what would you like?”

an awkward silence introduces itself—atsumu's still trying to catch his breath from battling his luck versus the sign. sucking in a deep breath, atsumu gives a little grin before answering.

“'m new here. can you recommend something?”

“sure! how about an eclair with some frappucino to start?” gesturing him to one of the tables, you make a u-turn towards the counter.

atsumu follows and sits comfortably watching you do your job. he gets a little fidgety.. atsumu really isn't one for awkward silence. awkward in the sense that he's the only one here and you're the only worker here, probably on closing shift duties.

it takes him a few minutes and some playing with his fingers before he pulls out his phone to text someone (osamu).

“and here's your order...”

“it's atsumu.”

“atsumu! enjoy it.”

placing his order on the table, you give him your mastered customer service smile, walking away with thoughts about how pleasing he is to look at. meanwhile atsumu's malfunctioning—when your crush smiles at you (no matter the reason) it immediately stuns you. if there's anything that can describe what atsumu feels and thinks it'll be ‘!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?’

forcing a cough to recollect himself, he finally digs into the meal, relishing in it's glorious flavour (he's exaggerating). wait fuck, atsumu thinks. he's a bite away from finishing his order and after that he'll have no reason to stay here any longer. trembling hands brings the last bit of the eclair to his mouth as imaginary tears race down his face. a heartbreaking story, really.

looking up from your phone, you notice his table's lacking the food you gave him, “are you finished? i'll come get it.”

“huh? oh, yeah, i'm done unfortunately,” whispering the last word, atsumu looks at you with an awkward smile; he doesn't know what to do, so he decides to start a conversation.

“so... uh, you work here?”

“well...”

“forget i asked that—what's your name?”

stifling a laugh, you take off your apron, folding it in half before resting it on the counter.

“i'm y/n.”

standing from his table, atsumu stretches a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks up to you.

“so, y/n, do you need a ride home?”

“it's a bit too early for that but i'll give you my number.”

atsumu's lips shape itself into an ‘O’. a pink dust works its up his neck as he rubs his nape, looking away with another awkward smile. right, we barely know each other.

writing your number onto a random piece of paper, your fold it before handing it to him, “text me!”

muttering a little ‘thanks’, he gladly accepts your number. i'm too good, he compliments himself—celebrating because he got your number.

grabbing your stuff, you look at atsumu, tilting your head at the door to suggest you're going to close up for the night.

“oh right,” he grabs his keys, shoving his phone into his pocket before he walks up to you, “but what about the pay?”

“it's only two items. don't worry about it.” walking out the door you lock up the café, matching steps with atsumu out to your car. “you drive!?” atsumu's shocked. why didn't i think about that, he questions himself. god, he feels like a dumbass.

smiling at him, you nod your head. he's kinda cute, you think. unlocking your car, you dump your stuff in the backseat, slamming the door before you open the driver's door. “g'night, atsumu. see you later!”

“g'night. i'll text ya.” waving you off, atsumu walks back to his car with the biggest smile. he's going to make it everyone's business that he got a potential girlfriend and maybe even a wife.

[cal-flakes]

please write more dealer!rafe idc what it is about i love that dynamic it was so cute !!!

you’re so real for this. i am LIVING for dealer!rafe right now. eeeeeeek

╰┈➤ saved by dealer!rafe

warnings: drugs, violence, weapons, death. possible tw; implied sa (no description as it doesn’t actually happen)

summary: doing a favour for dealer!rafe takes a dark turn.

“wait, can you run me through it again? please? just one more time?” sighing, rafe cupped her face. “princess, you really need to remember this for me, okay?” y/n nodded, the innocent look in her eyes almost making rafe feel bad for asking her.

“barry here..” rafe pointed “is gonna take you with him to a deal, all you gotta do is sit and be extra pretty, okay?” he explained, his patronising tone going straight over her head.

y/n thought hard about what he said, nodding her head as he spoke. “okay!” she beamed.

“alriiiight, come on little girl, gotta be there on time..” barry sang from the corner of the room, sighing as he stood from the couch.

“yes sir!” she squealed, not really understanding the danger of what she’s about to do.

rafe squeezed her tight as she wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a few kisses to his cheek.

loosening his grip, he peered over her shoulder to adjust her skirt, disgruntled by the short length.

she pulled away and followed barry to the door, a pep in her step.

“man i swear, if you let anything happen to her i’ll fucking kill you” rafe stated, pointing a threatening finger at his friend.

“chill out man, i’ll keep your little princess safe” barry mocked him, holding his hands up.

y/n situated herself in the passenger side, wincing slightly as her thighs stuck to the leather. the drive to the cut was comfortably quiet while y/n wracked her brain for what rafe wanted her to do.

barry glanced at her through his peripheral, sniggering to himself as she looked lost in thought.

“you forgotten already huh?” he smirked, mocking her. bowing her head, she nodded to the ground, picking up on his tone.

“all you gotta do, is sit there. okay? you sit there and don’t say a word, you’re just here to sweeten the deal. if they say anything to you, just be nice..” barry stated, gesticulating as he spoke.

“okay, just sit there..” y/n muttered to herself as they closed in on the porch.

the house, or shack, wasn’t anything y/n was used to. she wasn’t particularly stuck up, she had just never spent much time on the south side of the island, and that was set in stone once she got with rafe.

barry knocked a couple times, the look on his face was almost nervous, a small frown settled on his lips.

a disheveled looking man opened the door, ushering them in. y/n followed closely behind barry, avoiding the man’s prying eyes. the living room was a mess, she struggled to step over the countless empty bottles littered around.

“so, you got my money bare?” the strange man rasped, standing in the doorway sheepishly.

“yeah man, i got your money, but i wanna see the goods first..” turning his head, the man nodded to someone in the hallway.

narrowed eyes closed in on the pair as eerie footsteps sounded around the room. another man, just as strange looking, appeared in the room, duffel bag in hand.

the bag was placed on the table roughly, the silence in the room becoming awkward immediately. y/n picked at her nails, away in her own little world.

the men swapped bags, barry counted the pile of little packets while the other two counted the money. they whispered amongst eachother, their words muffled by the rustle of baggies

suddenly, barry perked his head up, his eyes meeting the knife that had been pointed at y/n. her breath hitched as she clocked it, failing to back up any further against the couch.

“hey man, what the fuck are you doing?” barry snapped, standing up without hesitation.

“you’re missing two-thousand dollars barry..” he sighed, throwing his head into his hands, mentally cursing himself for not double checking rafe’s bag.

“you wanna go get us our money barry, or this one’s not getting out of here alive..” the man motioned towards y/n with the blade.

“nah man, leave her out of this” he uttered, holding a shaky hand up.

“call your buddy, get us our money” the other guy demanded, reaching forward to pull y/n out of her seat.

she let out an ear piercing scream as she was dragged out of the room. barry groaned as her shrieks were muffled by a closed door, having been taken into the bathroom.

“balls in your court bare, get cameron down here with our money, and neither of you get hurt”

barry dialled furiously, “c’mon man, answer the fucking phone” he murmured into the phone.

“rafe! you gotta get down here, right now man” he whispered, “they’re keeping her hostage man, they know about the missing money”

“fuck!” rafe yelled.

“please! let me out!” a high pitched plea erupted from the bathroom. “shut the fuck up bitch!” their voices could be heard through the phone, igniting a burning feeling in rafe’s chest.

barry leapt from the couch, lunging at the man in the room, taking him down with a thud. heavy fists we’re thrown as the two men scuffled around the room, destroying furniture in their wake.

the screams and shouts went on for a while as barry struggled against the man.

the front door burst open as a shaking rafe stood in the door way, chest heaving. “barry! help me! please!” y/n yelped again.

without hesitation, rafe kicked the door open with a crazed look in his eyes. the man had y/n pinned to the wall, trailing a knife along her neck.

from what he could see, she hadn’t been physically injured, but the thought alone was enough for rafe to snap.

he lunged forward, dragging the man to the floor, knocking the knife out of his hand. y/n wailed as they struggled on the floor.

“gun! y/n grab the fucking gun!” rafe bellowed, startling her. nodding through the tears, she pulled the gun out of his waistband.

he stuck a hand out hastily, reaching for the gun in her shaky hands. quickly cocking it, he didn’t give the man a chance before putting a quick bullet in his head.

y/n’s hand covered her mouth as she wept, in a heap on the floor. breathlessly, rafe hurried to her side, scooping her onto his lap.

“i’m gonna get you out of here princess, c’mon angel..” he breathed, lifting her into his arms.

“you good bare?” he shouted, stopping for a response. a sweaty barry appeared in the door way, unconscious man left behind. “all good here bro, let’s fucking go!”

rafe placed y/n in the car carefully, wiping her tears. “it’s okay princess, i’ve got you now, it’s okay..” he cooed, meeting her glassy eyes as he spoke.

arriving back home, he carried her through the house, placing her on the couch. “stay still for a second angel, im gonna clean you up” he said soothingly, rubbing his forehead as the guilt set in.

“rafe..” she let out a shaky whimper. “yeah?” he stopped in his tracks. “please don’t, sit with me..” she cried.

“whatever you need baby, i’m here now, you’re safe with me” he whispered, pulling her into his side.

[coconut-dreamz]

you're losing me

'how long can we be a sad song' || tom blyth x reader

part two

a/n: i felt angsty and i love this song so i wanted to write something based off of it

you say, "i don't understand, " and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won't

the fights felt as if they were never ending lately. it hadn't always been this way, but that felt like a lifetime ago. the problems had started when tom began filming for tbosas but they had ceased when filming for it wrapped. but your relationship wasn't the same as it was before. now it was time for promotions and the fights had started up once again.

"i don't understand! why do we keep having to have this fight over and over again!" tom shouted. you scoff in disbelief at his outburst. he didn't know why you felt so insecure and jealous? it wasn't like you had told him at least a dozen times before.

"you know what, just go on your tour alone. i don't want to ruin it with our fighting." you resign, taking your already packed suitcase back into the apartment, away from the door. "you should go, the cab's waiting." you tell him quietly, unable to look up from the ground.

he just sighs, "alright, i'll see you in a few weeks." staring at you, waiting for you to look up at him. " have a safe flight," you look up at him, but refuse to meet his eyes. he just thanks you and heads out the door.

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

you sat in the dark room of your shared apartment with tom. you had picked it because of the view of the city lights, but now it just felt cold and desolate, like nobody lived here. in all honesty, it hadn't been lived in for awhile. with tom gone for movie promotions, you hadn't been able to be here alone, opting to stay with a friend instead.

you don't know where to go from here. should you salvage what remained of your relationship with tom? or should you scrap everything and start new?

the latter choice had been seeming more and more appealing as of late. you hadn't heard from tom in days. at first you chalked it up to him being busy and the time difference, but you saw he posted a new croissant review and realized he was ignoring you. where had it all gone wrong?

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix always risin' from the ashes mendin' all her gashes you might just have dealt the final blow

you had made the mistake of watching one of tom's latest interviews with his costar rachel. you watched it because you'd missed him, but now that you'd watched it, you wished you just stayed missing him. you didn't miss the way they looked at each other. it'd been so long since you'd looked at each other like that. your eyes were always filled with rage or tears whenever you saw him lately.

you were just so tired of it all. you contemplated texting him and breaking things off. it'd be a whole lot easier that way. maybe the weight on your chest would be lifted. but a part of you didn't want to let go of him. he'd been your everything once.

stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore for you 'cause you're losin' me

"how are you baby?" tom asks, his voice cutting through the silence, breaking you out of your reverie. he managed to find some time to call you while on his press tour. "huh? oh, i'm fine. how are you? how's press tour going?" you ask absentmindedly, hearing you ask about tour sparked a light in tom's eyes. he started rambling about the antics he and his cast mates had been up to.

you smiled fondly hearing him talk, until he mentioned rachel. she'd been a sore spot in your relationship lately. the mere mention of her name left a sour taste in your mouth. the grin on your face immediately swept off.

"it's getting late, i think i'm gonna go to bed. i hope the rest of your tour goes well," you fake a smile, trying to hurry to end the facetime call. "oh, i guess it is late over there. i love you, sleep well.” he bids you a goodnight. "love you," you reply and end the call. you bury yourself in your blankets, tired of the emotional turmoil that was caused by your relationship lately.

every mornin', i glared at you with storms in my eyes how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

you'd lost the glow your skin once had. it'd became increasingly noticeable to those around you. your makeup artist had to try harder to make it less noticeable on red carpets and photo shoots. but it was all in vain, everyone noticed how you'd looked sickly lately, everyone but tom.

or, if he did, he didn't mention anything about it. "you look great." he complimented as you two climbed into the car that was to take you to the premiere of his film. it had taken your makeup artist a lot longer than usual to do your makeup, having to cover up the blemishes and gray tone of your skin from the lack of care you'd given yourself lately. you’d been opting to lay around in bed, moping.

"thanks," you mutter as the car begins to move. you picked at your nails, something you'd picked up lately to help deal with your nerves. you no longer could have any type of nails, you'd bit them down to nubs lately. but tom didn't seem to have noticed. he didn't seem to notice anything about you lately.

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say you don't know what you got until it's gone

"stop! where are you going?" shit. you stop dead in your tracks, tom was home early for once. you'd thought he wouldn't back for another day or two. "did you hear me?" he makes his way in front of you. you try avoiding his gaze, but it was difficult when his icy blue eyes stared into your soul.

you tried to formulate the words to tell him it was over. "i'm leaving." you finally managed to say. his concerned eyes turn frantic at your words. "what?" he whispers out, grabbing your hand. "you're leaving? why?" you take a breath, you tried leaving when he was gone because you couldn't face him. "things haven't been the same lately. i think we need a break. i'm going to stay with a friend. i'll come back for the rest of my things later. i think it's best if we don't talk for awhile." you manage out, finally meeting his eyes.

what a mistake. his previously concerned eyes were now filled with sadness. you tried moving past him to your car. he grabs your hand one more time, "can you at least tell me what's wrong?" you sigh hearing this, "i think you know why, tom." is all you answer, dragging your suitcase behind you.

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army frontlines , don't you ignore me

it'd been a few weeks since you'd moved out of your shared apartment with tom. you felt relieved when you had finally walked out of the apartment. it had been feeling less like a home and more like a prison lately. you felt stuck in time in there. everyone around you was moving forward their lives, your friends, family and especially tom, but there you were. stuck waiting around for tom to give you the time of day.

you'd spend too long waiting around for your relationship to go back to how it once was. you'd given that relationship your all but got the bare minimum back in return. you should've called time of death on it months ago, but a big part of you wasn't ready to let go. you had spent your best years with him after all.

and i wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

you and tom used to talk about the future all the time. laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and giggling about your thoughts on what the future had in store. you told him about your dream wedding and he told you about how he wanted a cozy home with a big yard for your future children.

but that seemed so far in the past. you suppose he changed his mind. who'd want to marry a person who'd give every piece of themselves for someone who won't even bat an eye at them? you'd given him your all in the last year of your relationship, but had gotten nothing in return. all in an attempt to bring back what you both once had.

and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe unless you're choosin' me"

you laid in the makeshift bed of your friend’s studio apartment waiting for tom to reach out. you were aware of what you had told him, but you wanted to see if he truly did care about your relationship.

it hurt to see him happy on set of billy the kid. you followed his castmates and it hurt to see the snippets of him on their stories. he looked so happy and carefree. the exact opposite of how you were feeling and probably looked.

you hoped he was just respecting your wishes of having no contact for a few weeks, but the small voice in the back of your mind was screaming that he didn't care. that he was happier without you, that he was better off now that you were gone.

you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore

a constant buzzing woke you up from your deep sleep. you blindly search for your phone. when you find it, the clock shows that it's exactly 12 in the morning. you hit answer without looking at the contact. "hello?" you answer, your voice raspy from lack of use.

"love? it's me, tom. it's been exactly 6 weeks like you said. can we finally talk?"