#i let a decade go by feeling sorry for myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thinkinonsense · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

2K notes · View notes

mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 19 days ago

Text

A Cure

Summary: very cute and very horny firefighter Harry x author wife 🥹

Warnings: unprotected sex, very horny husband and wife, humiliation, all that jazz AND slight voyeurism if you squint!

Wc: 6.4k

The sound of knuckles rapping against her office door pulls Y/n out of her trance. She blinks her eyes after minutes of them sitting unfocused on her white laptop screen full of words she's not sure make any sense to her anymore, or maybe they didn't in the first place.

After another minute she hears the knocking again, rubbing her strained eyes. “Are you in there, baby? Or am I embarrassing myself.” Her husband's voice booms from the other side of the door, he really isn't that loud at all but it's probably because the only sound she has heard for the past couple hours are the sniffles and sobs as she reads her publishers emails she's been avoiding for at least five days.

Y/n clears her throat, standing up. “Yeah, Hi, sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper when her husband comes into view. He stands tall above her, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. He looks down at her with a large smile carved into his face, pearly whites and dimples only an angel could make.

“How is writing going?” She lets out a puff of air before returning the smile

Y/n is currently working on her second novel after her debut was a big success, catching the attention of readers everywhere on social media; it soon became a number one best seller. Following the success, she's been pulled in every direction and spread too thin as her team pressures her to get this second novel out as soon as possible so she stays relevant and readers stay buzzing about her.

“It's going…” he gives her a soft frown, pressing a gentle kiss to her pouted mouth. “Well, I'm about to head out for work.” She nods, relaxing into his delicate touch as he runs his nose against her brow bone. “So soon?” He huffs a laugh, pulling his arm away from her to look at the watch on his wrist. “Well, considering I'm about to be late…” she grabs his wrist, looking at the time. 11:30, already?!

“Oh my god! I didn't even realize it, sorry I've just been knee deep in emails and I've got about twenty different documents going at a time and-” He cuts her off with a kiss, his big hands coming to cup at her cheeks. Y/n lets out a sigh of satisfaction, sinking into him deeper as her shaky hands come to clutch at his forearms, as if she's pulling him back to stay so they can spend the whole day like this.

He pulls away with reluctance, another laugh leaving his lips as her mouth follows his. “I've got to go fight fires, baby. Kinda my whole job.” She has what feels like a permanent frown on her face, but nods nonetheless. “I'll be back soon, my baby. I love you.” She smiles, watching him slowly back away while he squeezes her hand. “I love you too, H.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n sits at her desk, sipping on another random energy drink so she can keep her eyes open to write maybe one sentence that will actually make it into her book.

Her first book came easy. After over a decade of only dreaming of getting a book deal and becoming a huge author it finally came true at twenty six. She wrote the novel about her own life, swapping the names and dramatizing some situations for entertainment- but all in all it was exactly her and Harry's love story. A classic second chance romance, highschool sweethearts who break up during college because long distance is too hard, then once the male main character comes back to town they see each other after two years and instantly fall back in love. Happily ever after and all that.

It's true, for most of her life with Harry it has been a fairytale, and that's exactly why her book has been such a big success. Everyone fell in love with Brooks as she had with Harry. The cute, shy, overly kind, highschooler turned mushy, soft, sexy, firefighter husband was an easy drawn in as readers described it as the “love story of a century”.

She decided not to continue with Brooks and Summer’s love story because it had been told from start to finish, highschool to marriage. Now, she's focused on a new couple, struggling with names at first, now their story, family, their emotional backstories, everything. The only thing she was confidently writing was the cameos from Brooks and Summer since they were all friends in this series she was trying to create.

She's got the names, Ruby and Noah, but she has no clue what the fuck they are doing. She's looking forward to writing about their ski trip, where she's going to make Ruby and Noah hook up after summer's constant nagging that Ruby should give him a try. Enemies to lovers this time around.

She loves writing trips, she's not sure why. Maybe because as her characters have a get away it seems her mind does as well. She gets to pour everything into imagery while she describes the snowy trees and the beautiful big cabin they stay in for a week.

Maybe that's what she needs to crack this writer's block, a nice getaway. But unfortunately, that's not possible with Harry's job right now. They are short staffed on firefighters and even the teen volunteers aren't doing much to compensate for the lack of employment.

Y/n’s head falls back against her chair, groaning and slapping her hand on her keyboard. She looks over at her scribbled notes on the random legal pad she found in her desk drawer. As much as she had planned for this winter getaway, she couldn't find it in herself to write it. She's been painfully getting through writing the drive up to the cabin through the past couple days and she isn't even halfway done.

This particular scene is supposed to be big for Ruby and Noah, Ruby finds out more about Noah's childhood and she begins to feel differently about him. She finally makes sense of why he's so standoffish and reserved, all these years she thought he was just a selfish dick.

Y/n groans, crumbling up the paper and throwing it across the room because she can't bear to look at the plans she so excitedly wrote down a few nights ago when she's now in one of her worst blocks of her writing career. It's worse than when she forgot about a five thousand word essay in college and had to hurry up and write something two hours before due.

“Maybe I'll just take a walk.” She sighs out, lifting from her numb legs and finally exiting her dark office. She pads down the stairs, sliding on shoes and pulling a light coat over her clothes.

Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunshine after hours of staring at the artificial blue light her computer gives off. She breathes in the crisp early afternoon air. Hopefully this works.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

The walk didn't help much, it definitely cleared her mind like walks usually do- but that worsened her case if anything because now she can't think of a single thing to write while they drive up to that stupid cabin.

Might as well get some chores out of the way, she thinks, as she fills up a water bottle after living off coffee and energy drinks. She walks out of the kitchen and back up the stairs where she opens the door to her and Harry's bedroom. She opens the closet door, looking at the mound of laundry they both have piled up, better get to it. She groans as she lifts their shared laundry basket, it's overflowing and has now piled onto the floor. Harry helps out as much as he can but with his crazy work schedule and y/n being locked in her office all day they don't get as much done as they would like.

She tosses clothes into the washer, pouring detergent in and closing the lid to start the load. In the meanwhile, she goes back to their room and pulls a big load of clean laundry onto her bed.

She begins folding them and tossing them into piles, one for pajamas, bras, boxers, and so on. She walks to the big closet to grab a stack of hangers, tossing shirts and dresses and pants over the hangers and placing them on the rod one by one.

She shoves her hand onto the dwindling pile of clothes, a lace material rubbing against her finger tips. She pulls at it, revealing the tiny babydoll she had worn for Harry one long night… almost two months ago. She sighs, hanging it up on one of the nicer hangers out of the random collection of mismatched ones they've collected over the years.

She bites her lips, staring at the pretty fabric. Her and Harry both have quite high sex drives, maybe because they are still in the early years of their marriage, maybe that's just how they are despite everyone saying they would get bored of each other especially because they were each other's first everything.

But between them being short staffed and Y/n getting swept up in the marketing and press of her book, they haven't had that much time for each other. She's lucky she has a touchy feely husband, because that's what comforts her. She needs to be in her husband's arms to feel better again. And since it's been so crazy, she hasn't gotten more than a lingering kiss for weeks and weeks.

She hangs the garment back up, ignoring the nagging feeling as she continues her chores.

Once the laundry pile is all folded she switches out the now clean laundry into the dryer and starts another load, plopping on the couch until Harry gets home.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm home!” Y/n hears Harry shout through the house, perking up and dusting off the t-shirt she has over her little matching bra and panties set. She closes her laptop, she was sitting on the couch, trying to write as a distraction until her husband came home. “Hi,” Harry softly sings, a big cheesy smile on his face as he finally spots his wife after hours of working. She rises, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He hums, giving her a squeeze and rubbing up and down her back.

“I missed my baby while I was away.” He mumbles, kissing the side of her head over and over. She smiles, inhaling his smoky smell that has grown to be comforting. It's him. A deeply sweet- almost fruity scent mixed with the ash and smoke of fires. “I missed you, H.” She whispers, pulling away and leaning in to kiss him. Her hand rests on his chest, opening her mouth slightly to slide her tongue against his.

She can feel his lips curling into a grin, his hands slide down, lifting her up and into his arms. “You missed me something special, Hm?” She nods then pushes her hands into his hair. “Take me upstairs, H.” He does as told, starting to slowly and carefully walk them toward the staircase.

A ring ruins the moment, making Harry sigh, sitting her down. Y/n sighs, wiping the side of her mouth. “Fuck,” He sighs, shaking his head as he looks down at his phone. “H?” He looks back up, his heart breaking as he looks at his wife. “Baby….” she frowns, trying to push back the urge to cry. “It's work. I'm sorry. I've got to go be a firefighter.” He softly smiles, attempting to lighten the mood.

It doesn't help though. She wraps her arms around herself, feeling stupid and childish that she's so emotional over her husband having to leave her to go fight a fire and potentially save lives. “I'm sorry, baby. I have to go.” His hand pulls away from her, waving before he walks out of the door.

She swallows the lump in her throat, walking up the stairs alone and straight into the bedroom. She pulls off the matching set she wore to surprise Harry, tossing it into the empty laundry basket. She pulls on normal pajamas, just a big shirt and a random pair of pajama shorts before washing her face and brushing her teeth.

She gets in bed, preparing to wait up and make sure Harry is alright before falling asleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Working from home is pretty lonely. Harry can be up and out of the door as early as four in the morning and sometimes gets calls all throughout the night. She got pretty used to being alone once Harry became a firefighter, and she even liked it. Being alone with her thoughts was great for her writing. She reminisced on the early days of her relationship, laughing at all the awkward stages and feeling emotional at how far they've come from the goofy teenagers they once were.

“I'm writing as fast as I can! It's not going to be good if it's not organic.” Y/n stresses over the phone, trying to push down the lump in her throat that strains her words. “Yes, Y/n, but we need to get a publish date on this book and get the ball rolling.” She groans, feeling tempted to throw her phone next to the discarded ball of paper from yesterday- but she knows that's a bit dramatic.

She hangs up, too frustrated to talk- or think about this goddamn book. She needs her husband, she needs his touch. A hug, a kiss, anything from him right now would ease her anxiety.

Time to start stress baking.

For as long as she can remember baking has been an outlet for Y/n- she's not sure why. Taking the horrible thoughts of the day and the physical anxiety and turning it into something yummy that puts a smile on everyone's face was fulfilling. She even put her own little recipes at the end of each chapter dependent on whatever Summer had made for Brooks- which was once again very much based on her and Harry.

White chocolate cranberry scones, chocolate cake, lavender lemon loaf, she is bound to be busy with all the different recipe cards laid out in front of her on their kitchen island.

She sifts the flour, bowls covering the table with a load of dishes already going in the dishwasher. The timer from the oven goes off, pulling her away from her distraction of yet another sweet treat. She pushes her hair out of her face, opening the oven and adding it to the collection of pastries that are making her house smell so good. Thank god she's got hungry firefighters to feed. She scribbles a note on the white board that's magnetized to the fridge to remind her to box up some of everything for Harry to bring in.

She's the fire chief's wife, she's has to keep them fed.

After what feels like days of baking, she's finally done. Two different cookies, two different loaves of bread, scones, and a cake.

Y/n flops down on the couch, turning on some trashy TV to keep her mind anywhere but that book she's supposed to be writing.

She gets about halfway through a forty five minute episode before she gets a glimpse of the time. She shoots up, starting on dinner knowing that her husband will arrive home anytime. He seems just as stressed out as she is about work, he just doesn't let it show as much, so she wants to make his life easier when she can.

Dinner didn't take long, she just whipped up something easy and quick for them. She flops back down on the couch, keeping the food on low so it will stay warm.

“Hi, baby.” Harry smiles, tossing his keys onto the table and coming to flop down next to her on the couch. He wraps his arms around her, cuddling into her. “What smells so good?” He sniffs at her neck as if she's covered in perfume, making her laugh and push away his touch even though she craves it more than anything right now. “Lots of random baked goods.” She softly laughs, pressing a kiss to his lips. He gives her an empathetic smile. “stressed, huh?” She shrugs, sitting up and he quickly follows.

“I made dinner too.” He thanks her. Kissing the back of her hand and trailing them up her arm. “How about after dinner we finish what we started the other night… maybe it will help you unwind?” She feels her stomach tighten. She wants to say no, take me right now before you're whisked away again, but she doesn't. She nods, closing her eyes and sinking into his touch before it's taken away.

He kisses her head, standing up and pulling her with him. “Let's get you fed and ready for me, huh? Can't have you losing energy half way through.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a smile on her face.

They eat dinner together, sitting at the island together instead of the proper dining table. They make small talk, catching each other up about their day, Harry telling her all about two kittens that were stuck in a tree that he had to rescue bright and early this morning. “So that's why you crawled out of bed at four in the morning?” Harry nods, standing up and pushing their bowls aside. “Yeah, but now we’re going to head back to bed.” He smiles, holding a hand out for her, which she takes.

Harry leans in, slotting his lips with his wife's. Another ring sounds through the silence of their kiss. Harry groans loudly into her mouth, obviously irritated. “I swear to god-” he yanks his phone from where it was sitting on the table. “What?!” He spits to the other person on the line, obviously frustrated. “Fuck.” He nods once more to the caller before hanging up. “I'm sorry, baby. A restaurant downtown is completely engulfed in flames, I have to go now.” She nods, trying to bite back her frown.

She loves that Harry is a firefighter, it's sexy and has made him build up the strong physique that holds her and protects her. She loves that he does so much for the city and has saved so many lives and homes, but as he's out saving others' homes it feels like he's abandoning theirs. He's home basically just to sleep, and nothing else. Their relationship is still strong, and their love will never fade, but not having quality time is taking a toll on both of them mentally.

“I promise, baby. I'll be home as soon as possible.” He rushes out of the house, running towards the door.

Y/n is once again left in the house all alone.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n is woken up with a gentle shake, slowly blinking her blurry eyes open. “What time is it?” She slurs, sitting up when she knocks her open, timed out laptop off of her chest. Harry quickly catches it, softly laughing and placing it on the coffee table. “It's only been an hour since I left. You fell asleep while writing, baby.” He rubs her back, placing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Oh shit!” She shoots up, grabbing her laptop. “That is due at midnight, I need to send it to my editor!” Harry stops her from running up to her office, hooking an arm around her. “Hey, hey. Slow down, baby.” She huffs, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Are you still struggling to finish this chapter?” He kisses her head again, brushing her hair out of her face. She nods, feeling the anxiety build up in her body at the thought of not getting this chapter done in time. “Yes. It's so frustrating,I just feel defeated. Like I need… a cure?”

Harry taps on his bottom lip with his pointer finger while he's thinking. “A cure?”

Y/n nods, “a cure.”

“Well, go try to finish writing so your editor doesn't get mad at you. If you need any help or words of encouragement I'll be in our room.” She nods, rising up from the couch, collecting her laptop in her arms before kissing her husband. He smiles when she pulls away, giving her ass a small smack.

“Go get to it, baby.”

She walks up the steps, still sleepy as she sits back in her desk chair and cracks her screen back open. She gets to typing, putting any coherent thought down to try to make it make sense, she can always have her editor put it into better formed sentences that flow better with the rest of the story.

It's a little past 1:30 when she finally gets into bed, crawling in next to her shirtless husband.

Harry groans, wrapping both his arms around her while he keeps his eyes closed- too sleepy to actually open them. She cuddles into him, finally relaxing after what seems like days of tense muscles and mental gymnastics. “Did you find your cure?” She shakes her head, “no cure yet. But I got it done.”

He whispers a cheer, squeezing her. “Good job, baby. I knew you'd do it. Now go to sleep, we'll celebrate tomorrow.” She giggles into his neck, wrapping a leg around him.

“Celebrate?” He nods, basically snoring. “I'll finally fuck you, promise, baby.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Guess what the fire chief got called in for?” Harry asks, walking into the house surprisingly early. Y/n spins around in her chair, her eyebrows shooting up. “You're home, H!” He nods, walking over to her. “What did you get called in for?” He stays silent for a beat to dramatize and leave her in suspense.

“A fourteen year old kid got his head stuck in a fence. And they called me, the fire chief, to get him out.” Y/n laughs, almost choking on her water. “So,” Harry starts, grabbing her water from her hand and taking a sip of it. “I said don't call me, don't bother me, I'm taking the day off to spend with my wife.” She smiles, scanning him up and down.

He's still in his red suspenders, fire pants, and the navy blue shirt that hugs his pecs and biceps more than should be allowed for everyday firefighting. His hair is crazy, pushed back with a strand flopping in his eyes. His skin is covered in black ash and soot, and he smells of fire but it only heats her skin.

His pointer finger curls to lift her chin up, his thumb softly resting under her bottom lip. He slots his lips with hers, making her whimper with need. Her hand clutches at the short sleeve of his shirt, feeling his toned muscles under it. “Hop up” he lifts her into his strong arms, walking them up to their bedroom.

He slams open the door, throwing her on the bed. They both laugh loudly, her arms reaching out for him again. He knees the bed, on his hands and knees while he hovers over her. Neither of them care that he's covered in black ash on their light duvet.

His hand slides up her t-shirt, smiling at the feeling of her warm skin even though he knew she was braless. “Take this fuckin’ thing off.” He half-jokes, pulling at the bottom of her shirt and lifting it over her head. Harry pulls his suspenders down, yanking off his tight shirt. Y/n hated to see the shirt go, but she loves saying goodbye. Her hands slide down his chest and onto his chiseled abs. “Keep the rest on.” Harry's eyebrow raises, his mouth slightly popped open.

“Keep it on?” She nods, then slides a suspender back up his arm.

Harry smiles, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard cock out. It slaps against his belly, making Y/n's mouth water. He yanks at her pants, making her shuffle down the bed. They both laugh as he pulls her pants down, giggles flying through the room as her pants fly through the air.

He takes in her naked body, his eyes dragging down her almost like she's his prey. Suddenly she feels shy under her husband's heavy gaze, pulling her arms in to cover herself. “Don't. You. Fucking. Dare.” He practically growls, yanking her arms away. He opens her legs, his hand sliding over cunt.

“I'm going to absolutely devour you. I'm not going to stop until you're shaking.” She smiles, wrapping her legs around him.

Harry grabs his cock, lining it up with her. “Are you wet enough, baby?” He asks, his hand slipping down for a moment to touch her pussy. “Oh,” an evil grin forms on his face. “You're dripping, huh?” Her face heats up, looking away because she knows she'll be too embarrassed to look him in his eye.

Harry softly but quickly pulls her face back toward him, opening her jaw with his thumb and spitting into her mouth.

She pulls him in with her legs, moaning. He lines himself up with her, finally pushing it. Y/n cries out at the feeling of him finally being inside of her after so long, it only eggs Harry on.

His constant thrusting shuffles her up and down the bed, and he loves every second of watching her tits bounce while his cock is stuffed deep inside of her. “Fuck, H” she gasps, reaching out for his arm to somewhat stabilize herself. “Feels good, baby?” He slips his thumb inside of her mouth, watching her perfect pouty lips wrap around him. She frantically nods, breathless and already shaking from the feeling of her husband's big, thick, bare cock inside of her.

“H, fuck, I don't know if I'm going t-” he cuts her off, smashing his mouth into her. She can hear how wet she is as the sound of wet squelching and heavy pants fill the room. It's enough to turn her cheeks red hot again, trying to ignore it. “Do you hear how fucking wet you are?” Harry says, biting at her neck. All chances of her not being humiliated are thrown out of the door the second Harry opens his dirty mouth. She almost forgot how embarrassingly filthy he can talk.

“Tell me, baby, do you hear how wet you are? Your pussy is dripping all over the sheets, you're making an absolute mess of me.”

She ignores his mouth, trying to keep some of her dignity.

“Tell me right now, or I'll stop fucking you.” She whines, gasping as he hits her special little spot. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her back arches as he sends electricity from her head to her toes. “I'll stop right now.” His hips come to a vault, and suddenly she's sobbing out her answer. “Yes, fuck, H. I'm so wet. I'm so fucking wet and it's all for you.” She falls into a chant of “it's all for you, all for you H” until he starts fucking her again now that he's gotten exactly what he wants.

“So wet, and tight, and warm for me, baby. I think your pussy was made just for me.” She nods, she's so cock drunk she thinks she might sign all her rights away if asked. “Cause my dick fits perfectly in you, it hits all those special little spots that puts that little pout on your lips.”

She gasps, gripping his arm tighter as she gets closer. “Yeah, you're going to cum? Cum on my cock, it's okay. You can cum baby, I know it's been so long.”

She moans a mantra of his name over and over again as she finally orgasms, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her.

Harry cums shortly after her, moaning in her ear and telling her how good she makes him feel.

He flops down next to her after he carefully pulls out, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “You okay? I didn't go too rough?” She shakes her head, resting it on his bicep. He presses a soft peck to her lips then gently rubs her cheek with his thumb. “No, H. It was perfect.” He smiles, glancing away like he didn't just say the dirtiest things she's ever said to her. “I'm sorry we haven't had a lot of time to be together. I hate being so busy.” She nods, “it's okay, H. I know you can't help it.” He bites at the inside of his bottom lip, sighing.

He moves his head closer to hers, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against hers. “I love you.” She smiles, sliding her hand down his arm and threading their fingers together. “I love you too, babe.”

He sits up, on his knees. “What are you doing?” He grabs her legs, tossing them onto his shoulders. He kisses her ankle, “I didn't forget about my promise. I want your legs shaking. I'll carry you around everywhere tomorrow.” She giggles as he stretches her legs out, bending to suck and lick at her nipples.

She pushes him away, making him laugh. “Not gonna let your husband get a little frisky?” She rolls her eyes with a smile, “I've been letting you get frisky since we were sixteen, I've had enough.” He scoffs, sliding inside of her again.

He presses kisses over her leg, using his over hand to press into her lower belly. She gasps, grabbing his wrist. “Am I too big?” She attempts to roll her eyes at his cockiness but is cut off with a moan when he presses into her again.

Harry starts thrusting in and out of her, painfully slow. All of his touches are amplified, she can feel every vein on him. “Fuck, babe,” she hardly manages to get a word out of her mouth as her hips wiggle. She's inconsolable as she lets out sobs, her back arching and hips rolling against his.

She clenches around him, sending a chill rolling down his back. “Fuck, baby. Do that again.” She clenched around him, spasming around him as he perfectly rolls his hips. Thank god he knows how to use all that.

She whimpers his name, begging for him to give her anything he can. A blissed out smile frames Harry's face, his pearly white teeth peaking out while he bites his lips to silence his grunts and groans. She pulls him in even closer with her legs and he bottoms out inside of her. He gasps her name, his hand clenching at her calf.

“Don't hide, H. I want to hear how good you feel.” His mouth falls open at her words, his hazy eyes falling closed in pleasure. He shudders, letting out a shaky breath. “F-fuck, baby.” She clenches around him once again, holding it as he pushes back inside of her.

“You f-feel like heaven, you're so fucking perfect. So perfect.” He moans, his mouth open while he thrusts in and out of her. He whines, making Y/n want to bite a pillow and scream into it from the noises her husband is making. “I fucking love this pussy, baby. Tell me whose it is.” Her back arches, letting out a pleasured sigh as she grips the sheets. “It's your pussy, H. You're the only one who gets to cum it in.” He smiles, nodding.

They both cum at the same time, their moans blending as they cry each other's names.

Harry finally lets his fire pants drop, kicking them off the bed once he's calmed down.

“I'm hiring more people as soon as possible. There's no way I went so long without you.” She laughs as he kisses her, both of them laying together in their post-sex bliss. She fidgets with his wedding ring, her head on his chest. “Yeah, I miss having you around the house.” Harry nods, squeezing one of her fingers. “Me too.”

They both relax into the bed, staying silent and enjoying each other's company.

“Round three in the shower?”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n looks over at her office door which is now open, her sleepy husband stands in the doorway, the only thing he's wearing is low hanging pajama pants. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, his hair going in every different direction. “Why are you awake?” She softly laughs at his question, looking at the time on her laptop. “H, it's almost 11AM.” His sleepy eyes go wide for a split second before they return to their tired half-open state.

“Well, you should be in bed with me.” He creeps over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders while she sits in her office chair. “I'm writing?” He dramatically gasps, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You're writing?” She nods, continuing to type even as he kisses her.

“Did inspiration strike?” She nods, smiling. “Last night kind of inspired me. I think it's exactly what I needed.” Harry raises one eyebrow, his fingertips coming to pull the laptop closer to him. “Can I read it?” She nods, letting him pull it into his arms, watching him scroll back up to the start of the chapter.

After last night she finally had the inspiration strike to write Ruby and Noah hooking up at the ski getaway. This will be the peak in her book, now that they are together the rest will be a breeze to write.

She watches as his pajama pants slowly grow, making her hands shake with anticipation. “Holy fuck. You wrote that based on last night?” She smiles, blushing and nodding.

“That was your cure, huh?”

She didn't think about it that way. “I finally got my cure.”

Harry sinks down onto his knees, sliding his hands up her thighs, under the shirt of his she was wearing to bed. He hooks his fingers into her panties, dragging them down. “Now I need my cure.” He whispers, sliding her panties down her legs and into the pocket of his pajama pants. “I've got a big problem,” he looks down, cupping his large bulge. “And you're the only cure for it.”

He parts her legs, smiling at the sight of her wet cunt.

“Oh god, baby. How long have you been like this?” He pouts up at her, touching her with delicate fingers. “So long, H. I've been thinking about you since I got up.” She whines, pushing her shirt back so it doesn't block his view.

He lets out a sympathetic whine for her, his eyebrows pinching together with a worried expression. “My poor girl, I've got to take care of you now. You woke up with a throbbing pussy thinking of me, Hm?” She nods, carefully watching his every move.

Her breath shudders as her eyes follow his head sinking down to between her legs. Her eyes go wide, feeling his tongue slide into her. She whimpers, closing her eyes at the feeling of his warm tongue sliding up and down her cunt.

“No, no. Go ahead and write. It's the only thing that cures your writer's block.” She gulps, her hands shaking as she goes back to writing with her husband's head between her legs. She slowly types onto her document as he licks her up and down. She tries to keep her eyes open, typing whatever comes to her mind- which she's more than sure will be a jumbled mess for her to fix later. “H, please babe.” He shakes his head. “Your publisher will be mad if you don't write it.” He licks her clit, pulling it into his mouth to suck at it.

Her hand falls to the top of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. He shakes his head again, grabbing her hand and placing it back on her keys.

She moans, rolling her hips. She's fully given up on writing, her head fallen back as he continues to eat her pussy.

“Baby,” he laughs, kissing her thigh. “Well, I can't be mad. I guess you deserve it after working so hard.” He lifts up to kiss her, laughing at her failed attempt to write like he previously ordered her to.

He sinks back down between her legs, flicking his tongue against her clit. She groans, arching her back and whimpering. She throws a leg over his shoulder and he instantly wraps his arm around it. “You taste so good.” His mouth is loud against her, making lewd noises as he sucks, licks, and flicks his tongue against her skin.

“You always taste so good, baby.” He groans against her, losing himself in the smell, feeling, and taste of her. He moans against her over and over again, sliding his tongue deep in her to taste her wetness straight from the source. He loves how wet he can get her, how just the thought of him gets her so worked up she spends the whole morning with a wet, throbbing cunt until he takes matters into his own hands.

He often fantasizes about catching her touching herself- just because he knows her writing is always based on their experience and when she is writing a particularly spicy scene she tends to get worked up.

He can imagine silently creeping into her office to catch her with her legs open and her small hand down her panties trying to satisfy herself when they both know it's his hands she's craving.

She falls to pieces above him, her chest rapidly falling and rising while her mouth drops open to praise him and all the pleasure he's giving her. “You can cum, baby. It's okay.” He closes his eyes, enjoying the last few moments of her on his tongue. He loves the silky feeling of her, how warm and soft she is.

“H, I'm cumming!” She moans, gripping at his hair while she rolls her hips trying to get herself there. Seconds later she cums all over his mouth, leaving him to clean her up.

He wipes his mouth, sucking his fingers off before he yanks her down to give her a messy tongue kiss to let her taste herself.

She tries to catch her breath, giggling now that she's come back down. “Do you feel better now?” She nods, kissing him again.

“Just needed your husband to take care of you, huh?” She nods once again, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he wraps his big, strong arms around her. “Now go sit back there in case I need you again.” He agrees to it with a large smile on his face, walking back to the much bigger and comfier chair she normally uses for reading.

He’s always been the cure.

A/N: WOWOWOW!! beside a small 1k word blurb this is my return to writing after almost a year and a half! I thought about making an Author y/n one random day in the shower and with a little help from my beautiful, amazing, creative best friend @ziallslvr firefighter Harry and author Y/n was born 🥹!!!!

I feel so passionate about these two! They are my sweet babies❤️ This specific Y/n is straight from my heart, and might be a little self indulgent! I hope you all love her as much as I do ❤️

PLEASEEEEEE!!! IF YOU LIKED THIS REBLOG AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHT WITH ME :D

745 notes · View notes

maxlarens · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #💫drabbles #drabbles:ln4 #best friend!reader

874 notes · View notes

iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ DECAY

tw. ddlg, noncon, daddy kink, dom & sub themes, forced threesome, patronization, manipulation, objectification, size kink wordcount. 4.4k

a/n. ♡ i wish i could have done more about this idea but i gave myself a bit of a word count limit for kinktober but don't be surprised if i end up writing more for this in the future jhydgusgfy i wanted to go more extreme but i was a bit bummed by the self imposed limitations kHdyugs iT IS What it is ily thank you for reading

miya atsumu x fem!reader x miya osamu

You’re pouting somethin’ fierce, and thick crocodile tears bead your lash line like diamonds.

Osamu’s not entirely sure when it started. If it started at all. Maybe things just happened to play out this way, and it was entirely coincidental, a whisper in the grander scheme of your relationship with his brother - all too small to mention. Maybe safer to say, he’s not sure when he started noticing it— but once he began, there was nothing to keep him from seeing it too vividly in every interaction.

You’ve been with Tsumu since your last year together in high school. Stuck with him through thick and thin, every busy month, each and every match and scandal and fallout - and Osamu’s nothing but grateful for that. You make him happy, Hell, even a blind man could see how the blond blossoms open when you’re around. Becoming a more grown, dependable version of himself. Some days Osamu blinks and it’s like his mirror image has far surpassed his own grounded maturity, leaving him behind in the dust. And it’s definitely you that brings that out in him - and he’s grateful.

But — he remembers the early days. More than maybe anyone else, Osamu remembers that it wasn’t always this way. You were definitely more soft and gentle than they were as teens, but you were no shrinking violet either. A decade ago, Atsumu would’ve been caught dead underestimating ya like he does with a glitter in his eye now. Like it’s a game the two of you are clued in on. Osamu’s eyes glide over the scene painted before him, sipping his beer from the couch.

“Aw, pet, you’ve gotta watch where yer goin’. C’mere, did that hurt?” Atsumu is knelt before you, cupping your face between two rough palms, as he kisses up and down your face. Your wobbly sniffles get hidden in his chest when he pulls you in, and rubs your back like you’re a toddler with a scraped knee. Your hands fist into his shirt before you take a deep breath, going up in his warmth. And his twin beams like he’s the happiest man on the planet, before going to pick you up with a bit too much practiced ease.

Osamu’s not against the pda. You’ve always been touchy, and Tsumu’s a clingy bastard at the best of times. “‘M so sorry, baby. Daddy almost walked straight over ya.” It’s more that he has a problem with. He looks away when Atsumu’s hands slide down to grip your ass and squeeze you extra close, looking down for another kiss that you give like it’s been practiced a hundred times. He’s not sure if the slight pout you have on is truly the pain though, or more the embarrassment he can see creep up your ears and cheeks.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way,” you whisper back, and by the time Osamu looks up Atsumu has made it back to the couch with a fresh beer, with you now positioned on his lap and wrapped around him like a baby koala. You don’t look over at him though, barely acknowledging the strange situation. Almost makes him feel like he’s the one that’s out of place, even though he came over on Atsumu’s request. Even though he was invited.

Samu takes another chug of his drink, before raising his brows, leaning in with an attempt to catch your eyes. “Yer not gonna have any? ‘S yer fridge we’re looting.” You only disconnect yourself from Atsumu’s chest to look at him with heat on your cheeks, perfectly treated hair shining as it falls along your shoulders.

“No, thank you. Atsum- uhm- d-daddy doesn’t let me have any unless we’re going out. It makes me get all bloated, so ‘s better I don’t.” Your long lashes flutter, before you smile again, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Samu.” There’s a beat of silence where his twin seems to give him a look -one he can’t really make out- where Atsumu puts his own beer aside to pull you closer by your hips and wrap his arms around you like you’re best molten to his front. “Hey,” you whisper then, and Atsumu looks up, “can I move? My knees hurt a little like this.”

“‘S that right? Ya wanna turn so you can look at Samu too?” His brilliant smile is almost bright enough to make him ignore the possessive hands that travel too far down when helping you turn, or the almost-subtle groan he lets out when you wiggle back onto his lap. Osamu stares off into the kitchen instead. “You wanna sit ‘n look at someone else ‘cause I won’t do anything. Is daddy not good ‘nough? Maybe I spoil ya a lil’ too rotten.”

“‘M not rotten~, I do like sitting in your lap,” you squeak out almost sadly, starting to leave little pecks all over Atsumu’s lips as if to shut him up. That would probably be good, Osamu thinks. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility that you’re actually tempering him, but it sure does seem like it. “I’m just tired.” And though your voice drops to an almost whisper, he’s too aware of your pouted, glossy lips to not hear every word. Your hands trail through his hair, sliding down his neck with each slow breath. “Just- Daddy, don’t be upset. I’m trying my best.”

You look almost pained to say it, not that his twin cares. “Please don’t get mad.” Anything else passes over Osamu’s head. He just places the empty bottle by his feet and tries to ignore the way you’re now draped onto Atsumu’s lap like you two will start dry humping any second.

“‘M not mad, pretty girl.” The blond grabs two handfuls of ass and rocks your waist against him, making you squeak, before he runs his tongue along his teeth with a noise. “I’m just thinkin’ that I don't want Samu ta see ya like this.”

You whimper when Atsumu’s mouth glides along your jaw and throat, falling back into the couch -crown brushing Osamu’s thigh- when his twin pushes and presses a few kisses down your throat and chest. “Alright, let’s go out.” Then he pulls back flushed, and gets you up along with him. “Before daddy ends up fucking that pretty pussy with a live audience.” He ushers you towards the door with a few pats on your butt. “Go an’ get yer shoes, I’ll tie yer laces for ya, little girl.”

“I- I can really do it myself, ‘s fine.”

It only makes Atsumu puff out his chest, and stare you down with a hungry stare. “Go on, baby. Yer little enough to need my help.” You don’t say anything, but there’s a tense breath of silence that covers the room before you look away with shame written all over your expression.

Osamu’s too speechless to do much but just stare at the side of his brother’s face, who barely shows any emotion other than enjoyment at all. Seriously. It’s not like you to let someone just walk all over you. Or at least, it wasn’t like you, as far as he was concerned. Things have clearly changed. He frowns. “Do ya really have ta talk about ‘er like that when I’m around, stupid Tsumu? Keep it in yer pants, wouldya?”

Instead of the normally snappy reply that he’d expect, the blond just shrugs, tugging at his waistband like the tightness is a little uncomfortable. “Can’t help it. She’s so fuckin’ cute whinin’ and crying out for me.” Brown irises find Osamu’s, and he smiles. “You’d feel the same if ya saw what she can do.” He pats his thighs when you come back from the hall, and holds out his hands. “Come ‘ere, little princess. Daddy’ll dress ya right up.”

Your frilly little implication of a dress is bunched around your hips as he lets you down from another bear hug, and puts on a slight pout. “I’ll be back soon, baby. They need an emergency setter for just an hour of practice. Maybe two.”

“It’s never just one hour.”

The overly whiny request only makes Atsumu glitter more, as his eyes flick down your body and his tongue is caught between his teeth. Truly, the guy has absolutely no decency. This was supposed to be a fun weekend away from work for the three of ya. Not that Atsumu seems bothered by that. After a few seconds he kisses your forehead though, letting you lean into his arms and looking ever so teenie tiny compared to your boyfriend -they’ve both filled out in both size and muscle since high school after all- and it becomes even more apparent when Tsumu squeezes you under his chin. “If ya need anything ya’ll ask Samu, alright? Just pretend he’s me.”

You bat your lashes at him, but let your grip on him slowly be peeled off. “... Okay. Can I have dinner while you’re gone?”

“Hm, sure.” The blond runs his fingers through his hair. “Daddy’s gonna miss ya. I’m not gonna be gone fer long.” Then he eyes him with a grin that Osamu kind of wants to slap off of his cheeks. “Thanks for ‘sittin ‘er.” He doesn’t reply with a smart remark about him treating you like a dog, and just gives a vague hum instead. With that he gives the brunet a quick wave, and gathers his phone and keys on his way to the door. You linger around the entrance a bit longer, before slowly returning to the dinner table with slightly heated cheeks. You tuck your knees to your chest when you sit and reach for one of the side dishes — and he can’t help but say it when the door falls into lock.

“So, what’s all that about?”

“Hm?” Your head drops to the side slightly as you put some pickled radish in your mouth and hum. “Mm, this ‘s really good, Samu! Can I have some?”

“Help yerself,” he nods, and also slides the plates you can’t reach closer. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it at all. You’ve got that sort of puppy-eyes look down, big and round and soft wherever you look, no matter who you’re talking to. It’s the kind of gentleness that calls for protection, and he’s not even the possessive type, but despite that the feeling of being needed sits on his chest and longs to come out. But still. He can’t help but think Atsumu’s overplaying his cards. “Seriously though. You know ya can tell my shitty brother no, right? I’ll straighten ‘em out for ya.”

The words seem to process for a moment, before you load some more food onto your utensils and swallow it with a little noise of thoughtfulness. “I- I don’t know. Atsumu says he likes being the provider. At first it was just little stuff he helped with, and I thought it was nice to be cared for.” You fumble a little with the chopsticks when a piece of fish is extra slippery, and smile when he helps you out and picks it up, carrying it towards your mouth. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve fed myself instead of Tsumu doing it for me,” you softly mention. That’s weird, ain’t it? That’s definitely weird.

Still he’s carrying the food to your mouth, and be it instinct, or habit, you look too fuckin’ sweet waiting like a puppy for him to help out, big, doe-eyes and all.

You let the piece onto your tongue, before wrapping those pretty lips around and gratefully humming and — fuck. You don’t notice the way his brow ticks, but his stomach rolls with the realization. Instead of lingering too long on the implication that he might feel the same exact way as his twin, he lets you talk, after chewing for a while. “I just- I don’t like that he doesn’t ever take me seriously anymore. He thinks I can’t do anything by myself, even brushing my own teeth, or picking out clothes! It’s so- so frustrating-” you continue until you run out of air, and seem to suddenly realize who you’re talking to. “Oh, don’t tell Atsumu that. Please don’t tell him. He gets so upset and I don’t like it when he’s mad.”

Samu can’t help but just nod in agreement, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t think his brother would ever hurt ya. Then again, Samu also didn’t think his brother was much of a kink lifestyle sort of guy until the last few months— so clearly he doesn’t know everything anymore. And you seem… okay with it, right? He’s not sure, really. Would he even have the guts to tell Tsumu off if he was sure you weren’t? Instead of lingering on that uncomfortable possibility, he pivots. “Let’s watch somethin’? What do ya wanna see?”

Your eyes shimmer when they flick up, and you swallow before smiling. “Can I choose?” You wiggle in your seat. “Atsumu -w-well- daddy doesn’t let me watch scary stuff, but I’ve been dying to watch the Ring again.” You then lean into his space a little more, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “I assume I don’t have to snuggle up to you though? He did say to pretend you’re him but…” You wrap your thin sweater a little closer. “I’ll hold your hand? He can’t get mad that way.”

How can he say no when you’re staring at him with those fucken stars in your eyes? His fingers find yours on the table, and your hand feels way smaller and softer than his own work-worn ones. “Yeah, sure. But ya shouldn’t watch nothin’ ta give ya nightmares though…” The urge to pick you up and wrap you nice and safe in his embrace becomes stronger by the second, and his eyebrows furrow.

Atsumu is quick to descend on you in the safety of the separate room. His hands glide down your sides and hike up your shirt over your arms, before running his fingertips down the valley of your breasts. “Samu was nice to ya?”

“Mhm,” you bop your head a few times, shivering when the cooler air peaks your nipples and Tsumu brushes his thumb over them. “He was- r-really- ah daddy, that tickles.” Your voice trembles when he eyes you down, before letting his fingers trail down to your shorts instead. He motions your butt up and you lift yourself politely, letting him slide those down your legs too as he lifts one and starts placing kisses down your ankle up your leg. “You said we’d get ready for bed~”

“We are gettin’ ready,” his smile goes a little crooked when you bite your lip, “just curious ‘s all. Ya think Samu likes ya?” He lets you fall back onto the plush covers before walking into the ensuite and coming back with some skincare that he places unceremoniously onto the bedside table- and you frown. If your boyfriend asked you a few years ago, you’d assume he was just genuinely curious. About you getting along with his family, his twin, his other half. But now, there’s an agenda woven into the words. Always is.

“We get along well. Why?”

His lips jerk up, and with a simple shrug he continues. “He’s good too ya, ain’t he? An’ I’ve been thinking I want Samu to watch us some time.” You’re too shocked to say anything, but your mouth drops open. No.

No, it’s already embarrassing how he makes you whine and whimper like a pet for him when you’re alone. It’s embarrassing when he makes you call him daddy when there’s people around with no shame- like he gets off on it. But this- his hands find your face with a soaked cotton pad to start cleaning you with gentle motions, and you find your eyes starting to water. You hate that you’ve become this fragile little flower that can’t speak up when it matters. You’d like to think you’re still the same. But your lip wobbles too easily as Atsumu continues, and your voice cracks.

The mortification is too much to bear, it swallows you up whole. He couldn’t possibly make you. “I don’t want that.”

“What’s that?” he coos, eyelids hooded. He leans down to you more.

You push his hand away from your face and frown, but tears still spill over. You fucking hate being such a crybaby. “I don’t want Samu to watch us.” You still frown though, doing your best to blink away the waterworks. And instead of taking you seriously - of course - Tsumu tilts his head in that sort of understanding that you’re throwing a tantrum like a toddler might. But you’re serious. You mean it. His freshly washed hair falls over his brows, but his hands still find your shoulders to keep you in place below him.

“Aw, baby. Poor girl.” The soft rubbing of his thumb along your skin only makes you more shaky in that feeling, his eyes roaming your body before he pushes you back onto the bed and crawls onto it beside you, pulling you into his touch. It doesn’t escape you that you’re already naked and he’s still dressed, keeping you tight. “I didn’t mean to upset ya. Shhh, shhh, it’s okay.” You swallow, and push against his chest with a slight whimper - why can’t he take you seriously?

“I mean it, Atsumu.”

Before you can say anything else he pinches your cheek hard, and his dark brows lace together. “Don’t be rude.” The darkness fades quickly, but he still doesn’t show any intention of letting you go. In fact, because of his strength against you you’re only forced deeper into his embrace, head pressed to his warm chest. “Daddy’ll take care of you. Always do, don’t I?” You open your mouth to retort, but he interrupts again, and squishes your cheeks together before placing a few patient kisses onto your pouty lips. “Listen to daddy. It’ll be fine.”

It’s so frustrating.

You want to move. You want to remove yourself from the situation he’s putting you in, or put on some fucking clothes, and instead you’re being mocked by him. Once more you try to give him a push for some space, but because he barely feels it or pretends not to, you don’t make a dent. “Tsumu, I don’t want to have sex with your brother watching~” you end up crying out, feeling the tears well up again. “Get off of me.” You start wiggling, as his hand wraps around your wrist and forces it to wrap around his body, clamping your hands together behind his back as he rolls over and starts kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be okay.” You want him to leave you alone. “My sweet little girl. You don’t gotta fight me, ‘m not doin’ nothing. I’m here for ya.” His heartbeat is so steady against you that it makes you want to shove him and scream in his face to fuck off, but of course you don’t. You don’t scream. You don’t push, or fight, or make yourself clear. All you can do is cry into his shirt as his smell wraps around you and you struggle to make the waterworks stop.

“Let go~” you sniffle into his shirt, and shiver when his hands start sliding down to pull you back onto him, forcing his thick, strong thigh between your legs. Your straining muscles give up after a while of pushing back, and his embrace still stays.

“Shush, little baby. I got ya, don’t worry yer pretty little head.”

“Daddy~” you whine softer this time, and don’t fight him when he nudges you face up to kiss him. He groans for a moment in what can only be satisfaction at winning the fight, before rolling over so you’re trapped under his heavy body, chest rising and falling against him. And as you try to stop crying, Atsumu has the nerve to rub your head like all of this isn’t his fault.

You can’t escape the heavy gaze anywhere you look. It’s suffocating. Not that you have much room to think about it between the way Tsumu’s taking up your space and forcing one of your legs over his shoulder so he can spread you open. It’s a brief reprieve from the prying eyes blocked by his broad back, but you know it will end. Because Tsumu didn’t just drag his twin here to know that someone’s watching. He wants to make a show of you. To show off the type of power he- oh. Your half-lidded eyes flutter open wider when his fingers spread open your slick and your pussy clenches around nothing.

And Atsumu grins. “Yer so quiet, baby. Are’ya shy?” You don’t answer that, instead trying to chase after his hand when he moves away, wrapping comparatively small hands around his wrist. You can feel the heat of Samu at the foot of the bed, uncomfortably perched onto it with his knee before he dips the mattress further, and your blinks get more rapid.

“Daddy… I- I don’t-”

“Hush,” he moves your other leg aside more, leaving you spread embarrassingly open before he dips his body and glides both hands under your ass, lifting you a few inches. His mouth descends without thinking, kisses and then tongue making you whimper as he eats you out. Not gently, but possessive, demanding licks that drag your split attention right back to him - only until Samu leans forward a little to get a better view. This is so fucking embarrassing. “Mh- Taste good, pretty thing.” Atsumu’s eyes have that same cocky, knowing look he always does when he gets you like this. You won’t do anything back, and he knows that. “Yer droolin’ all over my chin.”

You are. The slick’s coating his lips when he pulls back, trailing kisses up your thighs, before he slides two fingers inside your squelching pussy traitorously slow, and watches your face scrunch. He’s big. He always is, and knows it too, big hands, big thighs, chest, shoulders. Most of all, he’s fucked you enough times now to know that you can’t take him easily without prep, and even that is embarrassing. You could have gone a whole lifetime without having Osamu know that. Why did he even agree to this?

“Little brat,” Tsumu says after a few seconds, flicking your nipple painfully as he stares, clenching his jaw. “Don’t be rude. Samu came all the way out here to see ya, ‘n yer gonna lock up the whole time?” You swallow, and try to talk, but he instead curls his fingers inside your pussy and slides them deeper. Right where you can’t handle them, until you have no choice but to curl and wiggle away from him, mouth pulling open to moan.

“Ah, agh, daddy! Daddy, daddy.” Samu’s broad shouldered figure being barely dressed in a tank and boxers, along with Atsumu’s almost godly physique hanging over you is too much. You shut your eyes. “I can’t- f-focus.” You hold onto his arm as he fucks his fingers in and out of you for long enough that your entire body starts tingling, before he peels you off and turns you over. Rough hands hike you onto your knees, and your ass up in the air before his rough palm lands hard and sends a stinging heat through your legs. “Ow, ow~”

“That’s more like it. I know yer a noisy little bitch.” He rubs your lips up and down with his thumb a few more times, before you hear the sound of boxers being peeled off. “Now, what do ya say when daddy will give ya something ya want?”

He presses the hot head of his cock against you but doesn’t push in yet, and your poor pussy clenches around nothing as tears fill your eyes and you grip two fistfuls of pillow. You can’t say it. Not with Samu sitting right there, judging you both for- another sharp spank makes you shiver, and you whimper into the pillow. The sting aches until heat blooms under the damaged skin, and you unclench your teeth. “Please, daddy? Please fuck me.” You doubt you’re stretched enough to take him comfortably, even with the fingering and all the wetness coating your puffy pussy and the inside of your thighs. “Pretty please?”

There’s a few moments before his hand presses down on your back and his cock slides inside, and you do your best not to gasp too much feeling him force you open. It aches though, and you have to widen your knees to make room and— God it feels so good. You’re not sure whether to cry because of the feeling, or because you can’t stop yourself from moaning high pitched and whiny like a whore putting on her best performance. You really can’t help it. “Agh, ah- d-daddy, move, please.” The heavy weight of his cock bottoms out and he presses his heavy balls against you for a few seconds, before pulling out with a groan.

The motion pulls your entire body back, only stopped by his hand, like you’re some cocksleeve— and you cry harder. “Ah, ah, ugh— Atsumu,” you pout, and he pets your head.

“I’m right here, doll. Does that feel good?” You nod, and cling on, before opening your eyes to look at him with his thighs right next to your head and stroking his cock with an almost torturous pace. You whimper when being bottomed out into, and then your eyes shoot open. You can’t turn, but the low groan Samu lets out when you clench hard around him, says enough— and Tsumu laughs as he watches you panic and your bottom lip wobble, petting your head. Like this is all some big game, keeping you down under his hand while you shake your head.

“No, no- you said- you said he’d watch- agh, daddy! No, no no no, you promised! You promised.” You can’t stop yourself from moaning when he hits deep inside, fucking you much too well. Your mouth falls open as you try to stop the sound, but Tsumu’s touch only gets more demanding as his twin picks up the pace.

“Shhh, shhh, Samu likes ya so~ much. It’s just this one time. And then daddy’ll take good care of ya, promise.”

#kinktober #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu kinktober #miya smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq atsumu #hq osamu #haikyuu x reader #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #tw.ddlg #tw.manipulation #tw.daddy kink #tw.infantalization #💫ch.atsumu #💫ch.osamu

2K notes · View notes

cyn-write · 1 year ago

Text

"She Blazes Me Beyond All Control"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Azul, Idia, Melleus x F!reader (Y/N)

warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation and obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic ~

Note: This came to me while playing Glorious Masquerade! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other characters. I really enjoyed writing this and hope to do more! Enjoy!

Edit: Click this link for Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil!

Click Here for Rollo!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet she offered her hand as well and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip."

Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied.

Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave she and her Boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor and they started chatting. At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul could sense Rollo's eyes on you since your arrival. He tried to be civil as Rollo was a possible future ally, but even a merchant has his limits.

He walks with purpose from his hiding place and places a firm hand on Rollo's shoulder.

"You are quite mistaken Rollo." Azul said with his business smile hiding his true rage, "You see, y/n is deeply loved at NRC and she needs no sanctuary when she has me to look after her." He moves Rollo to the side with surprising strength and takes his beloved's hand, pulling her to him and grazing her fingers with his lips, "Isn't that right, Anglefish?"

Y/n smiled so bright that Azul might have mistaken her for gold, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Azul held on to his Anglefish as he gestured to the ballroom, "it is simply criminal that we have gone this long without a dance, especially when you look this~"

Y/n nodded with a giggle and as they left Azul gave Rollo a final glare.

"One last thing before we return to the crowd." Azul pulled in y/n for a passionate kiss. All in view of Rollo who was revolting at the sight of his pure beauty being kissed by a sea mage.

After a breathless kiss, Azul led his beloved away, sweeping her onto the dance floor. They danced the night away and during a particularly romantic number, Azul leaned into his beloved's ear, pushing away her h/c hair, and whispered.

"I am sorry for letting this get too far. But I can assure you, once we are alone, I promise to show you how much you set my heart ablaze~"

Idia Shroud

Idia was never one for confrontation, but when his girlfriend was being stolen from him, well he did hate to lose.

"Where did you get the villain monologue from? A crappy kids movie?" Idia strode into the balcony and grabbed y/n out from under the creep. "The whole leave them and stay with me thing only works in ottoman games or one-off episode romances and I know y/n hates those subplots." He held y/n close to his chest. "Now, you leave my girlfriend alone, everyone knows in love triangles that the girl always chooses the hero, not the villain."

Y/n looked at Idia in awe. Her boyfriend hated confrontation, but he swooped in like Prince Charming and saved her.

"Idia's right. I love NRC. I could never leave." She said firmly and held locked her arms around his waist, "besides, I could never leave my knight in shining armor!"

Rollo stood in furry as the shut-in stole his beauty. He was shocked that the introverted mage confronted him, or that he was y/n's partner.

Idia glared at Rollo as he guided y/n away from the creep. "See ya Creep."

The moment they were out of Rollo's sight, Idia released a breath and melted into his beloved's embrace.

"Ohmysevensthatwasthescariestthingihadeverdoneinmylife." Idia nearly collapsed into y/n, but he held her tight.

"Idia, you were brilliant! I never thought you could do that, you were like a prince swooping in to save the princess." Y/n hugged Idia back. her anxiety and fear she felt from the situation finally settled in and a few tears started rolling down, "I was so scared idia..."

He pulled back slightly to look at her teats. He whipped away her tears and kissed her forehead, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, He was just so... scary. But when I heard him talking to you like that, i-it got my blood boiling." He placed a hand on her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers, "I know I don't show it as often as i should, but I really do love you... uhg I sound stupid..." Idia's face was burning as pink as his hair.

Y/n smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to Idia's lips, "I know what you mean... I love you too, my star hero."

Idia smiled and kissed y/n again with a deep passion.

He smiled a toothy grin as he heard the enchanting melody seeping from the ballroom. "I know it's lame, but we are all done up in festival cosplay... care to dance?"

Y/n pressed a kiss to Idia's cheek, "I'd love to!"

The couple didn't go back to the crowd. They instead danced right there, just outside the ballroom.

As the music played, Idia leaned into his beloved and whispered,

"I wouldn't be much of a Knight in shining armor if I let my princess think she was unloved... how about I show you how much I burn for you?"

Melleus Draconia

Dragons were possessive creatures, and Malleus was no exception. He did not think much of Rollo and y/n's interaction, but this blatant display of affection towards his perfect. The sky cracked with thunder as Malleus glared down at Rollo from his place lurking spot. Rollo had the audacity to steal the first dance, now he was trying to take away the woman he loved. This would not do.

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

"I think you misheard. Y/n said no." That is when Malleus stepped in. He floated above the two and threw Rollo off his perfect. He swooped y/n into his arms, carrying her like a bride. Oh, how he wished she was his bride, but not now, not yet.

Rollo scowled at Malleus, "You daemon, you and all your kind!"

Malleus' anger flared and another crack of thunder filled the air. He floated down so he was at eye-level with this monster. "If you dare touch another hair on her head, I will show you my true capabilities."

Y/n places a hand on Malleus' chest, "Tsunotarou, remember, we are guests here. What would Trein say if he heard of this?"

Malleus looked at y/n's e/c eyes and sighed. He stepped back, turned on his heels, and left the balcony and the angry monster on it.

Once they were a safe distance from the balcony, out of sight from the crowd, Malleus put y/n down and hugged her close to his chest. "Y/n, I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner. Did he hurt you?"

Y/n could feel the worry in Malleus' voice reverberate in his chest. She placed a hand on his cheek and stocked his soft skin "You saved me just in time Mal." She kissed his other cheek and said, "Thank you, my Prince Charming."

Malleus, in a surge of passion, kissed y/n deeply. He held her so close as if she might disappear if he let go. Y/n reciprocated the kiss.

Malleus parted and looked at the child of man's eyes "I hope you know how much my heart burns for you. Seeing you in the arms of another, it pains me more than anything else." His eyes were filled with a deep love for her. "I know how difficult it is to be an outcast, but I promise I will always be here for you. Even if the world is burning around us, I will hold you close and keep you safe until my dying breath."

Y/n felt her eyes water at his words. "Thank You Mal, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Y/n," Malleus pressed his lips against hers in a fiery passion. They stayed like this for a few minutes exchanging passionate kisses as the music played. Then another symphony started to play and the calls of their companions grew louder.

Malleus chuckled and stepped back, taking one of her hands and bowing to press a kiss to it,

"We can continue this later in private. For now, may I have this dance, my flame?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

3K notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 11 months ago

Note

Hi Neil howdy

How do people commit to the career they thought of at the age of 9 im sitting here having a crisis a decade later 🙂🙂

Honestly sorry for the rant but i crave to build something big but i put zero efforts in any of my intrests even calling them a hobby would be embarassing because i dont pay attention to any of them i just know i like them because i like the idea of them i just scroll of social media half the time and im tired all the time 🙂🙂

I dont give time to anyone in my life i dont take care of myself or my family or my frienships or my career or my boyfriend and im a mess all the time i dont know how to gwt out of my depression and start acting like a normal huma being its infuriating 🙃

Sorry but idk how to handle myself rn 🥲

I know how you feel. I guess you do it one step at a time. Do the stuff that doesn't help less. Do the stuff that does help more. Make a checklist, with the basic stuff on it that keeps you going: sleep enough, eat regularly, shower, walk, and get that in.

Talk to someone with professional qualifications about how you feel and what's going on. If you don't feel happy about them, look for someone who fits your needs better.

If your hobbies and interests are not bringing you joy let them go and then find new ones. That may involve going places and trying things.

Do the stuff that helps.

Do less of the stuff that brings you down.

And take care of yourself.

(It's never too late to decide that 9 year old you didn't know what would make 19 year old you or 39 year old you happy, and change course.)

Good luck.

1K notes · View notes

queen-of-the-avengers · 6 months ago

Text

Mr. Right Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, past trauma of not feeling good enough, it's better off being alone angst, minor fluff at the end

Summary: As a divorcee with three kids, it’s hard to open up to men and allow them into your children’s lives. You’re a single mother who is just trying to get through each day until you meet Bucky. He might be the one you’ve been searching for all this time. Can you put aside your fears enough to let him in?

Squares Filled: band (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The only time you’re able to go to the grocery store in the summertime is when you don’t have your kids hanging off your every limb. Your oldest daughter and son are at a summer camp you were able to get them into while your youngest daughter is being watched by your mother who had some time for you to get errands done.

Whoever said parenting was the best thing in the world was lying because you want to cry most days. It’s not that you don’t love your children, you absolutely love them with all your heart. You want nothing more in the world than to be their mom but it’s hard some days. You’re a single mom to three kids which takes a lot out of you. You have no time to do anything for yourself. Whenever they’re at school, you spend your days taking care of your baby girl and cleaning the house only for them to return and mess it up all over again.

Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it’s not for everyone. However, when you had your kids, you weren't alone. You had a husband who you thought would be with you forever. Then, you caught him with a twenty-year-old in your bed and that set you back decades. It took you a long time to find someone else after him, which you did, and you thought you had gotten your second chance at love.

He was a breath of fresh air after struggling for years. You only had two kids at the time but it was still a handful since they were both so young. You and your second husband had a daughter together, and you thought this was it. This is your family.

Then, he left without warning. He told you that he didn’t love you anymore and wanted nothing to do with you or your kids. He threatened to take Abby but you fought him through a lawsuit. He was bouncing between homes and didn’t have a steady income, all of which you had. If you thought your first husband was bad, your second husband broke you completely.

You swore off men after that. All you want to do is take care of your kids and live life on your own. It’s hard but you know you can do it. Your mother has been very supportive of you and helps out when she can but she’s much older and can’t do stuff like she normally could. Your father passed a decade ago so neither of you have him to fall back on. Your brother and sister moved out of the country when they turned eighteen and haven’t looked back since.

You’re truly on your own which you never minded until now.

You fill your shopping cart as you go down the list you made before leaving the house, and you look at the next item on your list. You’re not looking where you’re going and almost run into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp and look up.

You gasp again but it’s not from the shock of running into him. This man is… You don’t think you ever saw a more handsome man in your life. He’s tall, like a whole foot taller than you, and has dark hair that is not too long. His eyes are bright blue oceans and he is very muscular.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry,” you mutter.

You’re about to move around him to continue your shopping when he stops you.

“I haven’t seen you around here and I come here every week.”

“Oh, yeah. I usually get my groceries delivered but I had some time today to do it myself.”

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles.

Damn, he has such a great smile, too.

“Y/N.”

“Do you care for some company while you finish?”

“Sure,” you smile. “So, Bucky, have you lived in Washington D.C. for long?”

“On and off. I used to live here years ago. I just recently came back and am now living with my two best friends. You?”

“I just moved here a year ago. I had to get away from… stuff… I used to live in Nevada and thought a change would do me good.”

“Lucky me that you did,” he flirts.

You can’t help the blush that forms on your face. You’re not used to compliments. You finish the rest of your shopping quickly but you don’t want to stop talking to Bucky. He’s the first man you have had such an easy conversation with in a long time. Your mom wants you to put yourself out there again and try dating but you can’t think of anything worse than that. Dating means bringing a new man into your kids’ lives who will probably leave you. You’re not going to do that to them again so you’ll settle for stolen conversations in the grocery store.

Still, you find yourself not wanting to leave the store because then you’ll have to stop talking to Bucky. However, when your mom calls about Abby crying because she’s hungry and you haven’t pumped a bottle for her. She can eat solid food but she loves your milk more. You’re trying to transition her into solid foods but it’s a work in progress.

“Sorry. I have to get back home.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, though. Maybe I’ll see you back here again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods.

You’re gone before he can ask you for your number. You can’t stop thinking about Bucky. You never met a man who could invade all your senses. Your mother left after you got back and you spent the next hour feeding your daughter and putting the groceries away. You put your daughter down for a nap when your phone rings. You take the call when you get to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Y/N! You know that band that Leslie goes on and on about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re playing a gig at The Twisted Bar this weekend. You gotta come with us!”

“I don’t know. I have Abby and I don’t have a sitter.”

“Bring her here. My husband would love to watch her. He’s been so tied with the boys that it’d be nice to watch a girl.”

“Are you sure? What if she gets hungry? She only seems to want my milk.”

“Then pump before coming here. It’s been such a long time since we all went out. Just once stop worrying about your kids. Jace and Lizzy are at camp and it’s likely Abby will sleep the whole night.”

You’re still not sure. Going out with your friends usually ends in one of two ways: either you end up going home early because your kids need you or you end up going home early because all the girls want to do is flirt with men. They’d never cheat on their husbands and they never take it past the occasional flirty comment. When they get like this, guys love to flirt with you and that’s when you call it a night.

You’re not some horny teenager looking for a fun time. You have kids and if these men knew about it, they’d never flirt with you. It’s tiring to go to bars and reject every man because you know what it’s going to lead to.

Still, it’d be nice to go out with your friends since it’s been so long.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but I’m not going there to take some man home.”

“Got it. This is going to be so much fun! Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll bring Abby over at five, then. We can leave together but I’ll need my car just in case.”

You and Emma talk for a little while longer until you hang up. Friday comes quicker than you’d like, and you had just dropped Abby off at Emma’s house. You’re nervous to leave her alone but you’ve been friends with Emma and Robert for decades so you figure you’d trust them with your kids sooner or later.

You and Emma arrive at The Twisted Bar right after Leslie, Jackie, and April get there. It’s a reunion of the decade since you haven’t seen April in years and Jackie for longer. It’s been hard finding time away from your kids.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally made it!” Leslie squeals and pulls you into a hug.

“Eh, I figure it’s time to see my girls.”

“It has been a long time,” April comments.

Leslie grabs drinks while you sit at a table that’s near the band that’s setting up. Leslie has been in love with them ever since she saw them opening for Bon Jovi a few years ago. They’ve been slowly rising to fame but they love playing in small bars to stay connected to their fans. Leslie comes back with the drinks and you sip yours leisurely while your friends down theirs quickly. It’s dangerous when you don’t taste the alcohol; that’s how you get drunk quickly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.”

Your friends wave you off, too invested in the music to listen. You shake your head with a smile and make your way to the bar counter. You look away for a second and run into someone seconds later.

“Hey, Y/N!” You look at the person and see Bucky standing there. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You pause after hearing how that sounds. “Sorry, that sounds weird. I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” he laughs. “I’m with my roommates. They’re here to see the band. They wanted me to come out.”

“Same.”

“I was hoping to see you. I really liked talking to you the other day.”

“Same here.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Bucky gets you and himself a drink before escorting you to one of the back tables. Most everyone is up front listening to the band so the back is clear of crowds. It’s easier to hear him, too.

“So, I know I’ve said this but you… Okay, I’m not very good at this. My friend, Steve, says I need to get out more but I actually like staying in and being alone. I don’t normally do this but I really enjoyed talking to you. Can I have your number?”

Just like that, your entire world shatters. You like Bucky but now that he wants to take the next step, he’s becoming a real person instead. A real person who you might have to take home to your kids. A real person who will just leave you like everyone else. You don’t want to do this to Bucky but you scoff in annoyance.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, Bucky. Look, I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Wait, is it something I said? You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to. I just… You’re beautiful and funny. I had a great time with you at the grocery store.”

You don’t mean to be rude or snappy with Bucky but you’re sick and tired of men feigning interest in you only to leave you and your kids. You’re not going to put them through all that trouble if the man isn’t going to stay. If you don’t give men the light of day, then they can’t leave you.

“You want my number?”

“I do.”

“Which number do you want, Bucky?”

“Uh, well, how many numbers do you have?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, I have numbers coming out of my ears. For instance, ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t fall in disgust but he’s not jumping for joy either. Tears prick your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“You have a baby girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How about this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is. Eight is the age of my son. Two is how many times I’ve been married and divorced. Sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 480-555-0199. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I just gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it. You’re nice, Bucky, but I’ve been down this road too many times. I will not allow my children to meet a man I know won’t stay in my life. Really, it was nice talking to you but no man wants a woman with three children.”

You grab your drink and leave the table but stop when you hear your phone ringing. You take out your phone and notice a number you don’t recognize. Knowing your daughter is with someone else who’s not your mother, you answer it thinking Leslie’s kids are using their phones to call you.

“Hello?”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would leave you. I understand the walls you’ve put up. I understand why you don’t date or don’t trust men, especially around your kids. I understand that you had to put yourself back together multiple times. I’m not dismissing that, but I can promise you that I am not like other men. I don’t abandon people and I happen to love kids. If you give me a chance, I would love to show you that you’re not a piece of ass. You’re not a notch on someone’s belt. You’re a woman who I would love to get to know.”

You turn to face Bucky who has his phone to his ear. The tears are already coming down whether you want them to or not.

“All I ask for is a chance.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Maybe it’s you who needs to give him a chance. Then maybe, you’ll finally find the one person you’ve been looking for.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

466 notes · View notes

helluvapoison · 1 year ago

Text

You were a rare soul— and that means something down here. You didn’t care about holding the title Overlord, nor the power that came with it. You had exactly zero souls under your belt, yet people… respected you. Not feared, respected. A peculiar word to hear in Hell.

Your name was uttered quieter than a whisper, like saying it an octave too loud would summon you.

The Rat King.

Soon you would meet…

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer Morningstar ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: gn reader, language, angst, canon divergence

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• He thought it was very brave (re: idiotic) to carry the title king in his domain

• Lucifer came to you out of boredom, absurdity, and— no shit— the slightest bit of self indulgence! He was supposed to see this so called second king and rip them a new asshole. Except you weren’t a king— not even close

• He scoured you toes to head, seemingly unimpressed. Not rat-like, not king-like. Lucifer knew himself well enough to know he should have been bored by now. His expectations plummeted, nothing was going according to plan. And yet.. he found himself more curious than before

“You’re this ‘Rat King’ I hear so much about?”

“I guess so” You shrugged, “But I didn’t pick that name for myself.”

• You properly introduced yourself to the one and only king. Your real name tasted interesting on his tongue. Lucifer tested it thrice as he shook your hand, relooking you over like he missed something

• Apparently they called you The Rat King because you were in the secret trading business. Give one, get one. Simple as that. You explained the rules to him over a cup of tea that he asked for. It wasn’t his first or second choice of blend but he drank it to be polite. No other motive. Definitely not because there was a question on the tip of his split tongue

• Lucifer wasn’t the most observant of people. He couldn’t tell what people were thinking, he wasn’t fluent in body language. So when he caught your eyes bouncing between his tight grip on the chipped cup you offered him, to his jittery knee sticking out from where he sat. His body and his head were, for one, in agreeance; leave, they told him. He didn’t like to be sized up and that was always his go to answer for why someone was watching him so intently. But with his chest facing you, and his heart in control, he stayed put

• “Lilith.” He choked out, “I want any knowledge you have on her.”

Saying her name out loud hurt more than he thought it would. It was acid in his belly, smoke in his lungs, and fire on his tongue.

Your smile faded.

“What?” He scoffed, “Lemme guess, you want something, right? A deal? I have to make a deal to find my own wife? Let’s get this over with then! I’m the fucking King of Hell, whatever you want is—“

Your hand shot out so suddenly that Lucifer was almost disappointed. He was expecting this. Right? This is what Sinners did, it’s why they were here. Why was he hoping you’d be different? And, more importantly, when did hope creep into his system again? He hadn’t been on good terms with the feeling in decades.

• However, Lucifer’s disappointment was killed before it could spread. Gently, so gently he could cry, you took his hand and pushed it, palm down, onto the table. Your eyes never left his. There was something about them that captivated him. He loathed it. It made him feel small. Not the kind of small that equaled insignificant, either.

No, it was worse.

Vulnerable.

“I don’t do deals,” You said quickly and it had Lucifer wondering if those eyes of yours saw how his mind was spiraling.

Stealing his hand back, ignoring how he immediately missed the contact, he wiped it on his pants.

A suspicious glare took over his face, “You—?What? You don’t do deals? What does that even mean!?”

“I just… trade secrets,” You sounded so defeated, “I don’t need deals for that. But I don’t have any secrets about the queen. I’m sorry.”

• Lucifer expected pity to rear its ugly head from you any moment now. His pride couldn’t take that hit, not today. What was it about you that made him so fucking transparent?

• The uncomfortable silence began creeping into the insufferably small shop of yours. It was fucking suffocating.

“I wish I could help you, I really do.” You said softly.

He really wished you would stop doing that. Your softness felt like a dagger to the heart. Reminding him it existed was agony he thought he’d never feel again.

• “Not one?” Lucifer asked bitterly.

Not a single one of these undeserving demons and sinners that Lilith loved so much spoke about her? Not a whisper or a rumor? They just forgot about her? It’s only been 4 years!

“I’m sorry, your majesty, if I hear something, I can—“

“No… No, it’s fine.” Lucifer cut you off, holding up his hand. His wedding ring blinded him with a sparkling gleam. He sighed, “I think we’re done here.”

• You stepped behind him cautiously, walking him to the door.

“You’re welcome to come back?”

He scoffed out a laugh, grinning at you from over his shoulder, “You’re not getting any of my secrets.”

A smile of your own began to spread.

“I also dabble in conversation.”

(part one? or move on to the next character? i dunno if i feel like continuing but want this to be as interactive as possible so tell me what you would like to see!)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar

1K notes · View notes

short-honey-badger · 1 year ago

Text

Phantom Pain

Little soul mate au where they feel each other's emotional and physical pain.

Warnings! A lil bit of angst and a lot of possessive Shanks cause I just can't help myself. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Phantom Pain Masterlist

Soulmates. Just the thought of them disgusted you. What good did it do anyone in this world to have someone else's pain and trauma to worry about? The joy of meeting your other half just wasn't worth all the hurt one had to go through, in your opinion. Yours certainly did nothing but cause you grief. Hangovers that weren't yours, to wounds from swordfights and shootouts. The worst had been the day your other half had lost his right arm.

Even now, almost a decade later, that phantom pain lingers, and with it, the guilt that isn't yours that eats away at you every time you acknowledge your soulmate. You ignore it the best you can, hell, you would be happy to never meet whoever they are. And you make sure to let them know that, too, with your own frustrated feelings. However, life had rarely been kind to you, and it wasn't going to stop tonight.

You know the moment you step into the only open tavern in the sleepy little town and see the red-haired man with a black cloak on at the bar, that tonight would be it. While he is covered, you can still tell that there is nothing on his left side and your arm aches something fierce. You debate with yourself. You could run away before your possible soulmate noticed you, or you could put on your big girl panties and go order a hot drink like you had planned.

You shiver violently, and the decision is quickly made. With a world weary sigh, you hang up your wet overcoat and then casually cross the room to sit at the bar several spots away from the one armed man. You order your drink and see out of the corner of your eye him staring at you, but you stay looking forward even when you notice him scoot down to the seat next to you.

Shanks stares at the person who had come into the bar, dark gaze curious. He'd felt you the moment you had walked into the bar, all angry emotions and swirling frustration directed right at him. Even through the negativity, the Yonko was desperate to know if you were the one. And he knew the fastest way to figure that out.

The grin that splits his face is full of glee and victory as you yelp loudly when he pinches the meat of his thigh. You whip around to glare at him, eye alight with indignation, but Shanks looks like the sun and moon just fell in his lap, "Found you," he says with a teasing tilt to his voice, "I've looked for you a long time, ya know that?"

You scoff at him and loom away to take a deep sip from your cup, "And I've been running," you quip meanly. Why? Why did he have to do this ro you now of all days? All you wanted was a nice evening to yourself, and of course, your soulmate seems obnoxiously good spirited.

Shanks laughs, and you can feel his merriment and joy at finding you. Your body desperately wants to act as well, but you fight down your biology and tell it to shut up and stay down. You've faught against this your entire life. You couldn't break now.

"I know," he says, and his words make you look at him with narrowed eyes, "I'm a dangerous man, Sweetheart. I know I've caused you a lot of pain, and I'm sorry about that."

You have to turn away from him with how genuine and soft he sounds. You drink deeply again and then set your mug down with a click. You've felt his guilt before, but having words go with it made you break just a little more.

"Well. Thanks for the apology, at least," you murmur and then tense when you watch him get off the stood. He circles around you and presses his front to your back. Despite yourself, your body relaxes, as if it knows that this man is meant for you. His one hand grips your hip, thumb moving to stroke the your skin under your shirt, and you shiver unintentionally.

"I plan on making up for it," he says casually and leans forward to bury his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. You smell like the sea and something else unique just to you. He can't get enough of it.

"I don't plan on sticking around," you tell him and shift to try and get away from the man, but the obvious pirate only tightens his grip on your hip.

Shanks laughs again, but it isn't a very nice sound this time, "Sorry to burst your bubble, Hon," he whispers, and you shiver at what he says next, "You don't have much of a choice this time," the Yonko waited long enough to find you, he wasn't about to let you go now.

He leans around you, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin, and a kiss is bestowed on your lips, soft as a daisy, "Name is Shanks, by the way. What's yours, Sweetheart?"

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #soulmates #alternate universe #fluff #angst #soulmate au #opla shanks #phantom pain

1K notes · View notes

solarhysm · 2 months ago

Text

DUST OF US #DRABBLE - YOUR FIRST TIME

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 2.2k

MAIN STORY HERE.

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 18 years old

“I’m nervous,” Jungkook says, sitting next to you in the hotel room.

You couldn't do it at your place because your father was too noisy and loved to tease Jungkook about how he wouldn't touch you until his 50s. He allows Jungkook to stay overnight occasionally, but he keeps the bedroom door open to ensure he doesn't touch you.

You couldn’t do it neither at his, his parents always opened the door without knocking. You didn't want them to catch you naked with Jungkook on top of you. So, you paid for a cheap hotel room.

“I’m nervous too,” you reply, looking at the wall in front of both of you.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Jungkook suggests, his fists still on his knees. “We can just… watch TV and order something to eat.”

“I shaved myself, Jungkook. And we paid to be here. So, believe me, we’re going to pop that damn cherry today.” You almost scold him, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

“So romantic,” he comments. You push his shoulder, smiling. You take a deep breath and turn to him, wetting your lips before looking at his.

“We should… kiss. To test the water, you know?” You tilt your head as he glances at you, amused.

“We have already kissed a thousand times,” he replies, as if it was obvious. “How will it help to test the water?”

“Oh my god, Kook. You have a way to get a girl dry, I swear.” You groan, falling back in bed, your eyes still on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m nervous.” He sighs, lying next to you, propped on his elbow as he admires you. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know why you’re a virgin now.” You joke, making him gasp dramatically.

“Says the girl who has never kissed anyone before me.”

“Jimin doesn’t count as your first kiss.” You bite back playfully as you roll on your side to face him.

“At least he’s a better kisser than you,” he replies in the same tone as you shake your head, amused.

“Maybe you should do your first time with him, then,” you muse, leaning closer as his eyes drift from your eyes to your lips.

“Maybe…” He whispers brushing his nose to yours, “But I’m dating you.”

“You have my blessing with him.” you add, feeling his breath on your lips as your mouth ghost his.

“How thoughtful of you.” He murmurs, closing the distance between your faces to kiss you. “But you’re prettier than that smelly thing.” He jokes as he cups your face with his hand, pressing his mouth to yours. You respond eagerly, rolling on top of him.

The kiss grows hotter and sloppier. He then trails his nose along your jaw, making you gasp and gulp. As your fingers disappear in his hair, you let out a slight moan when he nips the sensitive skin of your throat. You squirm a little as his cold fingers slide under your shirt.

“Shit, sorry,” He whispers against your collarbone as you shake your head.

“I don’t care, don’t stop,” You mumble, seeking another hungry kiss from his lips. He moans against your mouth, flips your position so he’s on top, and cups your breast with his hand, his thumb rubbing your nipple. “Fuck,” You curse, helping him to get rid of his shirt while he begins to grind his hips against you.

“Can I… take your shirt off too?” He asks shyly as you chuckle and nod, sitting up to get rid of your own shirt and bra under his burning gaze.

“What?” You frown, quickly covering your breasts with your hands as he sits back on his knees.

“No, no, don’t hide them,” He reassures you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists before he pulls your palm to his lips and kisses the inside of your hand. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers, closing the distance between your lips.

“One is bigger than the other,” You comment against his lips as he rolls his eyes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I don’t care, Y/N,” He smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Do you think my balls are the same exact size?” Jungkook jokes, which he knows will help you relax.

“I guess I’ll find out today,” You reply, earning a chuckle from him as he settles back onto his knees. His fingers trace a path from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, making you shiver. Then, he leans down to brush his lips against your hard nipple.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” He murmurs, testing the water with a gentle, kitten-like lick on your pebbled peak. When Jungkook doesn't hear a complaint from you, he wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks, causing an uncontrolled moan to escape your lips as he freezes.

“Fuck, no, don’t stop,” you quickly say before he continues his ministration, giving attention to the other bud too.

“How does it feel?” He asks, the blood rising to your cheeks as you stammer out a coherent sentence.

“Go-good.” Jungkook smirks as his nose trails on your stomach, his fingers already unzipping your jeans. Your eyes widen when you feel his breath on your panties once your pants hit the floor.

“What are you doing?” You frown, closing your legs in embarrassment, and Jungkook suddenly feels stupid.

“I-Hm… I thought you…” He starts, swallowing as he sits back, “I wanted to make you feel good?”

“Do you know how to do it?” You ask sitting up.

“No?” He retorts, as it was obvious. He never had sex before. “But I watched a lot of porn so…I… You- Y/N, I want to eat you out. But if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t.” As you nod, biting your lower lip, he becomes more serious and says, “It’s okay,” cupping your face as he shakes his head. “We’ll walk at your pace, okay?”

“Okay,” You hum, pressing your forehead to his. He smiles, kisses your forehead, and then takes off his pants, aware that you've noticed you're the only one half-naked.

“Do you want to go slower?” He suggests, his hand gently rubbing your arm in a gentle, affectionate gesture. “I can let you choose what to do.”

“I want to touch you,” You whisper, placing both hands on his knees. Jungkook smiles, finding you adorable as he pulls you closer, your face buried in his neck. As you slowly relax in his arms, you pull back slightly, your breath grazing his skin as you trail your nose along his jaw. Your hand caresses his torso and moves down to his stomach, making his breath tremble. “Will you feel more comfortable if… we got naked at the same time?” You ask, lifting your eyes to his.

He swallows hardly and nods. You moistened your lips, then pulled your underwear down with your thumbs on either side of your waistband. The situation was awkward and weird, but you blamed it on the fact that it was your first time. He follows every one of your movements before exhaling and doing the same.

Your eyes widen slightly as his cock bounces back onto his stomach, straightening up proudly. How will that thing fit inside you? He said it was an average size, and you have no experience to compare but you know that even two fingers of yours don’t fit inside you.

“Are you… wet?” He asks, looking down at you with curiosity. It was his first time too. How can boys know when a girl is excited too?

“I am,” You nod, take a deep breath, and then, with some shyness, guide his fingers between your legs by grabbing his left wrist. The last thing you want is your boyfriend thinking that he doesn’t turn you on. When his fingers meet your wet core, his cock twitches against his stomach, and he unconsciously curls them to explore.

“I… fuck.” He gulps as you feel more relaxed and help him to get more comfortable by showing him what you like, both of you still sitting on your knees facing each other.

“Can I?” you ask, pointing to his length with your chin as your hand leaves his on your core. Jungkook nods, two of his fingers trailing down your folds as you wrap your fingers around his cock. It was… weird. It is warm. Softer than you thought. You slowly start to stroke him, unsure of the right pressure to apply.

“Let me help,” He whispers, wrapping his fingers around yours as applying a good pressure and rhythm. “Fuck, yes, like that.” He moans, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit.

“Oh fuck,” You whimper, clenching around nothing as his eyes, full of desire, find yours. You lean in to kiss him. He responds hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth. A soft moan escapes your lips as he pushes a finger inside of you. You never enjoyed fingering yourself, but there was something arousing about Jungkook doing it.

“You’re so warm,” He mumbles against your lips, and you chuckle, knowing that it's just the words of a horny teenager.

“It would be weird if I was cold inside,” You reply sarcastically.

“Alright, smartass,” He rolls his eyes, amused, and adds another finger, making you clench around it. “Fuck, Y/N, warn me when you do something like that. I almost cum.”

“You didn’t warn me that you’ll add another finger,” You retort as he shakes his head, pumping his fingers inside of you while pushing away your hand from his cock, pinning it next to your body when he lays you on the bed.

“You turn me on so bad,” He whispers, peppering your neck with kisses. “I want to fuck you.”

It was bold of him, but your body react positively at his dirty talk because you clench again and arch your back for his fingers to get deeper. You know that feeling in your stomach. You were close to orgasm. You exhale, push his fingers away, and instantly feel empty without his touch, which causes him to frown. Reaching for the box of condoms on the night table, you take one out and give it to him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, once the condom is rolled onto his hard length, positioning himself between your legs. “Once I’m in… you won’t be a virgin anymore.”

“Did you think that I’m naked in that bed to play the scrabbles?” You groan, making him chuckle.

“Alright, alright,” He laughs and guides the tip of his cock against your entrance as you share a look. “I’m getting in,” He informs you, and you nod, your hand resting on his free arm beside your body.

“I’m ready.” You bite your bottom lip, and that's all the cue he needs; he slowly sinks inside you, his eyes scrutinizing every one of your features as his tip stretches you out, causing you to grimace. He stops immediately and waits for you to get used to this foreign intrusion.

It burns, you won’t lie and all you want is to push him away from you. But at the same time, all you could think about was having him fully inside you. “More.” You could only mumble as his features contorted at the sight of you in pain. However, he listened and sank a few more inches.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, but you nod, and he takes a deep breath, gesturing for him to go deeper, then pushes himself further into you. He can feel your body clenching and unclenching around him until his body is pressed against yours. He leans in to caress your face, peppering it with comforting kisses to ease the pain.

“I am,” You nod with a slight smile, guiding his lips to yours. “You can move.”

Jungkook starts to roll his hips against yours, his eyes fixed on yours. You breath the same air as he smiles at you, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours. It didn’t take long before he went faster, building your own orgasm now that the pain was gone.

“Fuck,” He groans, closing his eyes as if trying to concentrate, with one hand on your hip. You start to feel the pleasure you only read about in books, and God… it’s so much better.

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, brushing his nose against your skin. The only sounds filling the room were the slap of the skin-to-skin and the soft moans and breathing coming from both of you.

“Shit, Kook,” you say, digging your nails into the muscles of his back and clinging to him. “I-“ you start, but Jungkook freezes, his body twitching and spasming before he collapses on top of you, breathing heavily. It takes you several seconds to realize he just had an orgasm. He pants softly into your neck, as if he had just run a marathon, before kissing your neck and jaw.

“That was… wow.” he rolls next to you. You suddenly feel empty, your body having grown accustomed to his presence, the tension dissipating from your nonexistent orgasm. You stare at the ceiling. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks as you shake your head. “Okay… I’m sorry. I know I didn’t last thirty seconds, but - Fuck,” he grins, rolling onto his side as you do the same, smiling at him, your fingers tracing his features. “I'll do better next time. I mean- if you want a next time?”

“I do.”

“Cool, cool.” He chuckles nervously before pecking your lips. “I love you. That was amazing.”

You nod, smiling, as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest.

“Did you come?” He questions you with his biggest doe-eyes, and you didn't have the heart to break his current mood; you know how Jungkook is - instead of enjoying this moment, he'll try to fix what went wrong. So, you lie.

“Yes.”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

#bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #dust of us #solarhys #jungkook x you

140 notes · View notes

ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 4 months ago

Note

How about jealous Ginny for a prompt? I mean there are plenty of jealous Harry stories but for once I want to need to see a jealous Ginny! Loved the overprotective Harry btw❤️🩷

They - quite literally - run into her at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny was walking backward, grinning wickedly at Harry as she tried to surmise just how many photographers would swarm Diagon Alley once word had spread that he was there, while Harry continued to argue he should at least be allowed to don the Invisibility Cloak.

“No, no, I’ll look insane talking to myself all day. You’ve got to face society, sometime, Potter,” Ginny was saying. “Some would say it’s your responsibility, no your duty to–”

“--my duty?”

“--to spend the day dodging photographers for your girlfriend. Isn’t that your whole deal? Self-sacrificing, hero–”

“Rita Skeeter is worse than Voldemort.”

It was precisely the moment when Ginny let out a loud, unattractive Ha! that her back came into contact with a person turning away from the bar. It’s all a bit of a flurry for a few moments - a folder of papers flutters to the floor, Ginny stumbles and corrects herself with an “Oh Merlin I’m so sorry,” Harry jolts forward helplessly as though to catch… something.

Ginny turns to apologize more earnestly, when she realizes that she knows the person she’s just crashed into.

“--I’m such an idiot, are you– Oh! Cho!”

“Er, hi,” Cho Chang says, a bit ruefully. “It’s good to – oh, no, don’t worry, I can–”

Cho flaps her hands uselessly, for Harry has bent over to pick up the papers Ginny had knocked to the floor.

“Here,” Harry says, stuffing the papers haphazardly back into the folder and thrusting it out toward Cho.

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then a horribly awkward silence swallows them all.

Ginny struggles for anything to say. The only idiotic thing she can think to say is - You look pretty - because Cho does. Her silky black hair is swept up into some elegant looking chignon, and it’s clear she’s done up her makeup a bit more than usual. She’s wearing smart robes that are fitted elegantly, and her soft-pink nails are perfectly shaped.

“Are you two off to Diagon Alley?” Cho says, with an air of desperation to fill the silence.

“Yes,” Ginny says, latching on to the subject like a life raft.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Picking up school things for Ginny.”

“Oh!” Cho says, turning to Ginny in surprise. “Do you have another year of school left, then?”

The question, in conjunction with Cho’s very grown-up elegance, leaves Ginny feeling particularly infantile and irritable; their two-year age-gap seems suddenly to span decades. “Yep,” Ginny says, a note of petulance creeping into her tone. “Finishing up my NEWTs.”

“Good for you!” Cho says, in a way that manages not to sound patronizing, even though Ginny's certain it is. “I don’t know if I could go back to school, after every–”

Harry, shooting an alarmed glance at Ginny’s expression, interjects. “Did you do some shopping today, as well?”

“Oh! Er, no. No I… I just finished up a job interview, actually, in one of the back rooms here.”

“Did you?” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. “Nice. Hope it went well.”

“Me too,” Cho says, looking at Harry a bit shyly, now. Ginny narrows her eyes. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. The job - it’s in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Really?” Harry says, and he sounds genuinely interested now. “What role?”

“Oh, something administrative. I’m not very interested in field work, I’d much rather be working on the policy side of things, but – well, I’d actually wanted to thank you. Everything was so in flux after—well, in May, and I never got a chance to–”

“Thank me?” Harry says, sounding baffled. “You don’t–”

“I do,” Cho insists prettily, wringing her hands prettily, sounding pretty. “You were so brave, what you did. Facing him. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you– And honestly, I wouldn’t even have had a chance at this job if it weren’t for the DA. I think they only interviewed me because I mentioned I’d been a part of it–”

“Really,” Harry says awkwardly, “it’s nothing, you don’t need to–”

“It’s isn’t nothing, at all!” Cho says emphatically, tucking a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve made such a difference for everyone and I’ve been wanting to tell you but I–”

“Don’t be modest, Harry,” Ginny interjects hotly. Cho’s gushing so much they all might drown in it. In fact, Ginny wouldn’t mind all that much if Cho did.

Harry shoots her a wary look, and then turns back to Cho. “That’s, er, really nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Cho says. “I heard you’ve joined the Aurors, is that true?”

“Er, yeah–” Harry says, ruffling his hair anxiously. It strikes Ginny then, as it so often does, that Harry is quite good-looking, now. Not that he hadn’t been, before, but months of regular eating and living out from under the thumb of the threat of constant death has been good to him - go figure. He’s filled out and bought clothes that fit and Ginny’s very much enjoyed it all until this moment, when it strikes her that he could stand to be a bit less handsome, all piercing eyes and messy hair and wry smirks directed at Cho bloody Chang. “I have.”

“I knew you would,” Cho says, like she’s some insider expert on Harry’s tendencies. “We’ll be in the same office, then, if I get this job!”

“Oh!” Harry says, coming up short. “That’s—” he shoots a glance at Ginny. “That’s great.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ginny says in a passable impression of earnestness that she’s positive does not fool Harry. “Really, really, wonderful.”

Cho looks at Ginny as though she’s only just remembered that she’s there. “Yes, well. Are you still interested in doing the Quidditch thing, Ginny?” Cho asks.

“Oh, who knows?” Ginny says brightly. “Maybe I’ll do the Quidditch thing, or maybe I’ll go be an Auror too. It’ll be a regular party, the three of us.”

Cho’s smile falters a bit. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees. “Just lovely.”

Harry coughs, and then they’re plunged into a miserable silence once more.

“Well,” Ginny says heartily. “We’ve got to get a move on. Those photographers won’t dodge themselves, you know.”

“Oh, of course,” Cho says. “Well, it was lovely to see you both.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees.

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“Best of luck at school, Ginny,” Cho says, and Ginny hates that she sounds like she means it. “And maybe I’ll be seeing you in the office, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry chuckles, “Maybe! Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then she gives them an awkward wave and departs.

Once the door has closed with a jingle of the bell above it, Ginny turns to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Ginny…” Harry says with trepidation.

“Looks like you’ve got a new office best mate!” Ginny says with supreme sarcasm. “I’ll tell Ron he’s been usurped, he’ll cry for a bit but I’m sure he’ll manage–”

“She might not even get the job–”

“Oh, no. She will. I mean, she name-dropped you and the DA, that’s sure to give her a leg up, never mind that she wasn’t even at school last year with the worst of it, never mind the whole thing disbanded because of her stupid friend–”

“I don’t think that’s what she–”

“I’m just so glad that while I go months without seeing you, you’ll get to pal around with Cho Chang, I was so worried that you’d get lonely without me, but now–”

“Ginny,” Harry says with an awkward laugh. “Come on, you know that’s not how it is.”

“She can go on thanking you for what a bloody hero you are,” Ginny continues. “I don’t think anyone’s told you that in about five minutes, so it’ll be good to get a nice top up from her when you’re feeling down.”

“Well, sure,” Harry joins in. “You know I can’t go more than six without being reminded.”

Ginny pats his chest. “So brave. There. Do you think that’ll last you until we get to the book shop?”

“I might need a quick round of applause in the apothecary.”

Ginny snorts. “Oh, come on, then,” Ginny says. “Maybe we’ll run into Fleur’s little sister, too, if we’re really lucky.”

They make their way through the brick entrance to Diagon Alley - a far cry from the days of the war, the street is bustling and busy once more. They take a circuitous route to Flourish and Blotts, taking care to walk quickly so that not too many people take notice that Harry Potter is in their midst, and because Ginny cannot bear the sight of her brothers’ joke shop, once alive and bustling and colorful and loud, boarded up and quiet. It’s a bit too on the nose.

They make it nearly to the front door of the book shop before Ginny can’t take it anymore. “Did you hear the way she asked if I was doing ‘the Quidditch thing’?” she snarls, halting them just outside the door. “Like it was some cute little hobby, never mind that she was a Seeker too. Not a very good one, mind, but still!”

Harry has the gall to look faintly amused as he pulls her off to the small alleyway next to the shop. “I’m sure that’s not what she meant. Professional Quidditch is really difficult, she knows–”

“Oh you’re sure, are you?” Ginny spits, rolling her eyes. “Just like she just knew you’d become an Auror? Someone alert Professor Trelawney, we’ve got another Seer on our hands. No one without a powerful Inner Eye could’ve possibly predicted that–”

Harry grins and shakes his head. “You do know I’m not thrilled about this either, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ginny rants. “It’s perfect, your girlfriend will pop off to Scotland and you can hang round with your ex instead!”

“My ex?” Harry says, an eyebrow raised. “We went on one date when I was fifteen and it was terrible.”

“Oh that’s only because you were both traumatized,” Ginny says airily. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled at the chance to reconnect now that you’re both older–”

“Ginny,” Harry says, the amusement replaced with something firm. “You’re not really worried about this, are you?”

Ginny can’t look him in the eye. She’s so irritated, so bothered, that it takes her a moment - she wants to say yes of course I’m worried, did you see how annoyingly pretty she was and the way she looked at you - but she doesn’t. Because it’s not true, not really. As she’s tried to rebuild in the rubble after the war, Harry’s been the one thing she’s sure of through all of it, and she reckons he feels the same. No, she knows he does. She knows he’s not interested in doing anything with Cho Chang.

Ginny takes a deep, calming breath, and meets his eyes. “I just really fucking hate that she might get to see you every day and I–” her voice catches.

Harry pulls her in and gives her one of those hugs that seems to calm every cell in her body, like he might be able to shield her from everything bad in the world. She can’t believe that in two weeks, this is a comfort she won’t have, anymore, reduced instead to stolen moments at Hogsmeade weekends and words scribbled in letters.

“I really fucking hate it, too.”

Ginny burrows her head deeper into his chest, and breathes in the woody smell of him. Finally, she says. “You were right, you know. I can admit it.”

“What?”

She pulls back and looks at him. “I really should’ve let you wear that damn Invisibility Cloak.”

#hinny #missing dh moment #jealous!Ginny

182 notes · View notes

k-aay · 4 months ago

Text

☆ HEY, NEIGHBOUR. HEY, LOVER. (PART 1)

☆ SYNOPSIS : : There once was a boy who had feelings for a girl but didn't know how to express them. As a kid, he didn't know how to get her attention, so he beat up the guys who did, which only lit the flame to a long-lasting hatred between them. That was sixteen years ago, and now you both are twenty-one with homes too close for comfort. But what you didn't know is how attracted you were to him now.

FEATURING : choso kamo

NOTE : this took a little too long to write pls enjoy <3

WC ; 5.2k

CREDITS! : this work is owned by @k-aay on tumblr. please dont steal my work! (i do not proof read, sorry for any mistakes !!)

16 YEARS AGO !

"I hate you!" you screamed, stomping your small foot as your eyebrows furrowed. It was true, you hated the way he was acting right now. He stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy, denim jeans, standing not far from you. And on the ground beside him was your classmate wailing with a bruised eye. Choso couldn't care less about the trouble he caused. He kicked a tiny rock before him, "I did you a favour, stupid." You were seeing red at this point as you clenched your fists. "What is your problem!?" you grab him by the collar of his red shirt.

"Hey, let go!" Choso pushes you away, not using much force. "What the hell are you doing!? I was helping you!" he yells, pointing a finger at you. "You punched him! I didn't ask you to punch him!" He frowned. Of course, you didn't ask him to punch that jerk, but he did it anyway. He knew that you wanted that kid far away from you so he punched him. Why were you upset at him?

PRESENT

Choso Kamo was one of the staples of your childhood. He was notorious for leading the other boys in your elementary school like minions and demanding them to create as much chaos with him as possible. And he'd be damned if any of his minions stepped out of line. But that was almost a decade ago and you haven't seen him since middle school. Right now, you're unpacking your boxes after moving into your new apartment. As you sit on your brand-new couch and rest your feet on the cardboard box sitting snugly on the floor, you crack open your last can of beer.

"I thought you said you'd manage to handle unpacking everything yourself," your friend, Shoko says as she grabs the beer from your hand and chugs it. "Ugh, slow down! That's the last can." She wipes the excess from her mouth and hands you the can. "I deserve to drink as fast as I want after you enslaved me today." You roll your eyes and place your lips on the cold, metal top of the can, taking a sip. "And here I thought my best friend meant it when she said I could call her if I needed anything."

"No one means it when they say that. You're fucking stupid for believing that. I only helped because I wanted to see your new place. Maybe even design a room for myself." Shoko shifted her position on the couch, her legs over the top as she sat upside-down. "Why the hell would I give you a room?" She hits your legs, "Because I helped you clean the place with these hands. For hours, if I should add. And you live so close to campus and that gas station."

"I did get a good place, didn't I?" you say, fidgeting your fingers around the can. "'Good' is an understatement," Shoko says, pointing her finger at the window. Specifically the gas station near your house. "Now it's time to pay off your debts and get us some beer and cigarettes. Your treat." You groan, sitting back on the couch. "Go. I'll watch over your lion den." You stand up straight and zip your grey sweater up, slightly covering the shorts you were wearing.

"Fine," you say, slipping into your shoes as you hold onto the wall for support. You place your phone into the back pocket of your shorts and open the front door, stepping outside.

As you made your way to the gas station, you wanted to make the trip quick. Speed-walking through the store to gather the things you needed: bottles of beer, snacks, cigarettes and hangover medicine you know you'll need for tomorrow. You dumped the pile of happiness for the night onto the check-out table and carefully placed the six-pack of beer down too. As the cashier scanned everything, you faintly heard a group of male voices from outside gradually getting closer and louder until they were right outside the door. "Your total will be forty dollars. How would you like to pay?" the cashier dully says, tapping on the screen before him.

"Jesus... forty..." you mumble. "Card." pulling the shiny credit card from your purse, you pay for your items as the cashier puts them into a white plastic bag. You grabbed the bag and headed straight for the door. Right as you were going to push it open, someone had already pulled it open instead. "Yo, Kamo, you gonna go inside? Oh, shit-" the white-haired man cuts himself off after laying eyes on you. "y/n?" he says, a smirk forming on his face.

"Gojo.." you mumble, dreadfully. And in front of him was Choso Kamo. The little leader of it all. He towered over you, his eyes looking down to meet yours. And you hated the feeling of it even more, damaging your ego slightly. "Drinking with someone or are you all alone?" Gojo leans forward, resting his arm on Choso's shoulder who was staring at you with his hands shoved into his pockets the same way he did all those years ago. You didn't want to admit how good Choso looked with his long, jet-black tied back into a bun with a few strands falling in front of his face. "Fuck off. I have to get going. Because unlike you, someone's waiting for me at home."

"Who?" You looked up at the man who spoke coldly to you. It was just one word that sent shivers down your spine. His tone was nothing short of rough. He said that one simple word as if you owed him an explanation and you had to quickly remind yourself that you didn't. "That's none of your business." Gojo chuckles, removing his arm from Choso. "You'll let us in your apartment if we ask to join right? Seems like a lot of drinking for one small person." You were about to refuse them before the other one, Geto did for you. "Satoru, it's rude to invite yourself like that. Especially if you aren't wanted." His tone sounded soft and sincere, but you already knew Geto well enough from previous years to know that nothing was sweet under that angelic voice.

What you couldn't figure out was the man still intensely staring at you, Choso Kamo. You looked away from him and shook your head before pushing past them and walking off. "Not even a goodbye?" Gojo calls out yet you ignore him like you've been doing all these years. But you still felt as if eyes were on you.

Once you hurriedly made it back to your apartment, you placed the white, plastic bag on the floor and opened a beer. Shoko watched as you chugged the entire thing, reminiscing bad memories of not only your recent encounter with Choso and his little minions but old, previous ones as well. "Damn, who got your panties in a twist?" She asked, opening a beer for herself as she took a small sip. "Those wannabe-frat punks."

"Gojo and Geto?" Shoko asks, laying her stomach flat with one hand holding her beer bottle dangling off the couch. "Oh, and don't forget their little don," you aggressively place the bottle on the ground, but not strong enough for it to break into pieces. Your reminder of the two boys' leader grabbed Shoko's attention. "He's back?" You nod your head, not bothering to look at her. "Is he still hot?" Now you look at her, disgusted in fact. "Ye- no!" Shoko raises a brow as she takes another sip of beer, skeptical of you having to correct yourself. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"He pisses me off! I swear I wanted to beat him up with my bag when I saw him! Right on the spot where his little dick-sucking friends could see." You chugged the bottle, every last drop of the drink was gone. Shoko looked at you, realizing the extent of your anger. You opened another beer bottle and started drinking. "Once I get my hands on that deadbeat, motherfucker-"

It was hours later before the effects of multiple beers kicked in. Shoko left early due to an assignment that was due the next morning, leaving you drunk and alone. You were lost in your thoughts, mainly about the man you dreaded. You laid flat on your back, the coldness of the wooden flooring was one of the few things you felt after those beers. Suddenly, loud music startled you and you looked at the wall where the apartment next door was on the other side of. That was where the music was coming from. You were already upset and annoyed by the encounter at the gas station. Being drunk meant your decency to be a good neighbour, especially on the first day of moving in was kicked out of the window. You put on your slippers and exit your apartment, knocking on the door next to yours.

No answer...

So you knocked again. It's louder this time. Only now, the door finally opened. The muzzled-out music was louder and gave you a minor headache. Standing on the other side of the door was Choso, looking as calm as you were shocked. "Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes lowering to your body which was covered in a short, white tank top and jean shorts that almost fully covered your thighs. You felt his gaze lingering for a few seconds and a blush crept onto your cheeks when Choso's eyes met with yours again. It was like a staring contest you were determined to win. Even when he had his hair messily down, making it ten times harder for you to look at him, you weren't going to face defeat. Instead, you cleared your throat, trying to be as intimidating and nonchalant as possible as you slammed your hand against his door. "Turn down the music, dork. You're gonna wake up the entire building with that shit."

Unfortunately for you, your eyes lingered down on the very shirtless person you were berating. Choso's arms were crossed, covering half of the view of his chest. Secretly, you were praying for this man to let his arms down to his side. It felt like you were a high schooler all over again, drooling over guys from magazines but instead, you were drooling over the man that was physically impossible for you to get along with. But your intoxication left no room for shame and locked it behind chains and a metal door.

"No," he spoke. "Are you drunk?" You rolled your eyes and walked closer, stopping right in front of him, your slippers almost touching his feet. "Turn. Down. The. Fucking. Music. Got it?" Your arm leaned against his door as you waited for his answer. As much as you were scared, you stood your ground with confidence, until Choso leaned down to reach your height level. "No." You unknowingly backed up an inch, causing him the slightest smirk plastered on his face. "I'll-" Choso raised a brow as you stammered. You didn't know what you were gonna do if he refused. His smirk widened at your loss of words. "What? You'll what?" Being tongue-tied meant you had already lost the argument right when it started escalating to threats.

Unfortunately, you had no threats in mind. Damn him and how good he smelled right now. It ticked you off how weirdly attracted you were to him at the moment and you did everything you could to put that energy into thinking of a way to piss him off. "I'll call the cops and file a noise complaint."

He rolled his eyes and stepped back, leaning against his doorframe again. You were waiting for a response from him, but secretly regretting the threat of calling the cops. It wasn't like you were going to go through with it. Your mind was running with thoughts you knew shouldn't belong in your head, slightly fidgeting with your fingers as Choso's gaze remained on you. Burning heat spread across your cheek as his stare slammed into your eyes. "Okay. I'll turn it down," he finally speaks. "On one condition." You tilted your head, placing your hands behind your back. "Who did you have over tonight?"

"What?" His heavy eye didn't falter for a second after he spoke. "Answer the question and I'll lower the volume." You were delighted with the easy condition but as happy as you were came confusion. Why did he want to know? "I answer the question and you'll have it lowered?" you repeat, seeking reassurance. "As low as you want, sweetheart." Sweetheart... Why did it feel as if any of your rational and sane thoughts had escaped your head right when that name so casually rolled off his tongue? Especially in a way that shouldn't have you fantasizing about him. You blamed the alcohol for causing the way you felt. "So? Spit it out," he demanded, snapping you out of reality. "Cat got your tongue or are you too scared to admit that you were with someone and had some fun?" What was this guy thinking? Never mind that, the way he was acting suddenly gave you a little ego boost, reminding you about who has to be in charge of this situation.

"So impatient, Choso. Didn't you hear? Curiosity killed the cat," you smirked. He leaned forward, "Everyone always leaves that saying unfinished. Didn't you hear? Satisfaction brought him back, sweetheart." The way his mood was dead serious only pushed the situation to make you feel even hotter. "Now I hate to rush the moment, but I have a party to get back to. If you want the volume to be lowered, then you better fess up and tell me who you were with." You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to give him a piece of your mind by the way he was talking down on you. "Fine, fine! I was with Shoko. Shoko Ieri from high school." Choso steps away from you, placing his hand on his door. "Alright. Goodnight then." The door closed, leaving you with a lowered volume from the other side and still a heavy head.

Choso leaned against his door, his heart pounding against his chest as he replayed the encounter with you in his mind. He had always been aware of your presence; you were the girl who captivated him in a way he couldn’t articulate. Sixteen years had passed since those chaotic childhood days, yet the memory of your fiery spirit and stubbornness remained vividly alive in his thoughts. Even now, when you stood before him, looking so determined and slightly intoxicated in your little tank top and shorts, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. As he turned back into his apartment, a stark contrast to the chaotic swirl of emotions inside him. Gojo and Geto had organized a small gathering, and despite the noise, he wasn’t in the mood for a party anymore. Not when he was buzzing from your confrontation.

“Choso! You’re not just gonna stand there all night, are you?” Gojo called from the living room, pulling him out of his thoughts. The white-haired jokester was sprawled across the couch, a beer in hand, while Geto lounged in an armchair, flipping through his phone with a disinterested expression. “Yeah, man. C’mon, don’t leave us hanging,” Geto chimed in, looking up from his phone. Choso trudged over, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his thoughts still lingering on you. “What’s the plan? Just drink and laugh at stupid shit?”

"No fucking shit. Who was at the door?" Gojo asked. Choso shot him a glance and shook his head, "Just a noise complaint from my neighbour. It's nothing. Just continue where we left off." Gojo and Geto looked at each other before nodding their heads, continuing their yap. As the night wore on, Choso felt increasingly restless. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and tried to immerse himself in the conversations, but every laugh reminded him of you. The familiar faces of his friends were around him, but all he could picture was the fiery girl who lived just next door.

THE NEXT MORNING !

It had to be at least seven in the morning or even six by the way the sun was shining too brightly through the curtains of your window. Your alarm was found on the ground and seemed to have been knocked over. You rolled around, grabbed your pillow and roughly muzzled it over your face attempting to shield your eyes from the brightness. A hard-hitting headache kicked in but your tiredness from the previous night hadn't left. You threw the pillow to the side and sat up straight, stretching your arms. Going through your morning routine was nearly impossible with a hangover present. So you just brushed your teeth, got a hot cup of water and made your way to the balcony to take in some fresh air. The mug you took a sip out of was warm, heating your hands as the cool breeze from outside hit it. When you turn to your left to glimpse more of the view, you catch a sight you wished you hadn't discovered.

A still shirtless neighbour staring directly at you from his close balcony as he sipped on something from his mug. Choso's hair was tied back and eye-bags were visible even from the distance you were at. "Morning," he spoke. His voice was still deep and raspy after having just woken up. You nod your head, memories of last night flooding back into your head. "You get any sleep?" he asks, his expression showing that he doesn't care about what your answer is going to be but your gut told you otherwise. "No, not much." You kept your answer short and simple, keeping your distance from him. The feeling he gave you wasn't something that could be easily trusted especially after years of knowing him. Even with the sounds of cars and ongoing traffic outside filling the air, it still felt awkwardly quiet now that none of you were talking. You took a sip out of your cup, uncomfortably tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear afterwards.

"Do you still think about middle school?" Choso breaks the trend of silence. You raise a confused brow, caught off guard by his sudden question. "Middle school?" you repeat. He leans against the railing of the balcony, the small gap between yours and his being something you could be grateful for. "Yeah," he answers. "That's... random." You take a moment to think about it. It was so long ago that you don't remember that much about your days there. "Not really. Why?" Choso smiles. "You had a record for being a goody-two-shoes if I remember correctly." You roll your eyes, "And you had a record for causing all the trouble there. You didn't even have a reason most of the time." Before you even knew it, he managed to get you all fired up with only a few sentences. “Not really. You were always so serious. I wondered what it would take to get you to loosen up,” he says, his gaze steady and probing, those dark eyes searching for something in yours. You laugh, the sound is almost incredulous—a mix of disbelief and amusement that dances in the air between you.

“And you thought causing trouble was the way to do that?” Choso nods. “Absolutely,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if sharing a secret only you could hear. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension, charged with memories of past escapades and the thrill of possibilities. You can almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the casual intimacy of the moment drawing you in. “You still seem like you’re stuck in that same routine. Being stuck in the same loop of following nothing less than the rules, aren't you, sweetheart? ” His words hit a nerve, and a rush of defensiveness rises within you. “Maybe I like my routine,” you counter, crossing your arms tightly, a shield against his probing gaze. Yet, even as you say it, doubt flickers in the back of your mind, a tiny voice questioning whether you truly find comfort in the mundane.

You glance down, noticing how your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, a clear sign of the restlessness brewing inside you. It’s a familiar feeling, one that has settled in your chest like a weight over the years. The thrill of spontaneity seems like a distant memory, and the thought of breaking free from your carefully constructed life sends a jolt of adrenaline through you. He's getting to you. You remember who you're talking to and snap out of the reckless thoughts. "Not that it's your business anyway," you add to your previous sentence. "When did you even move here?" He shrugs, "Before you. Maybe three months prior." His answer causes you to raise a brow, "I've been coming in and out of this apartment for almost a week now. How come I've never seen you even once?"

“Guess I’ve been keeping a low profile,” he replied a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “I like my peace and quiet. But it looks like that’s changed now that you’re my neighbour.” You felt a mix of irritation and something else—something you weren’t ready to confront. “Right, because peace and quiet is exactly what you’re all about,” you said, crossing your arms again, trying to project confidence despite the flutter in your stomach. Touché,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, leaning back against the railing with easy confidence. “But hey, it’s not all bad. Maybe you just needed someone to shake things up a bit.” You roll your eyes. “Shake things up? Is that your idea of fun?” You raised an eyebrow, attempting to keep the conversation light, but the air around you thickened with tension. You could feel his gaze tracing your features, and it made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in slightly, the space between you charged with an unexpected energy that felt almost electric. “You ever think about breaking out of that ‘goody-two-shoes’ routine? Just for one night?”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, thoughts whirling as you considered the implications. “And what would you suggest? A wild night out with you?” Your tone was half-joking, but a part of you wondered what that could entail. "Cute," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "But I meant going out with your friends if you still have any, sweetheart." You stepped closer to where the railing was, feeling the cool metal against your palms as you leaned over, looking out at the sprawling city below. The morning light bathed everything in a warm glow, but your focus was entirely on Choso.

"What's that supposed to mean, asshole?" Choso feels satisfied at the sight of getting a rise out of you. He leans casually against the railing, the morning air crackling with tension. “Just calling it like I see it. You’ve got this whole perfect image to uphold, but everyone breaks eventually." You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “So, what? You think I’m just sitting around waiting for permission to have fun? I have a life, you know.” You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Right. A life filled with study sessions and early bedtimes.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter and the sound was both infuriating and oddly charming. The way he carried himself—carefree, a little reckless—made your heart thump in a way that both excited and terrified you. “What's wrong with that?” you challenged, trying to regain some control. “Not everyone wants to be reckless like you, Kamo.”

"'Fun' doesn't just mean trouble and recklessness. It's really upsetting how you and many others look at it like that," he countered, causing you to run out of excuses. "I'm perfectly happy with where I'm at right now so what are you trying to do, hm? What's the scheme here?" Choso crossed his arms, the front pieces of his hair flowing with the wind slightly in a way that made your stomach do a flip. "There is no scheme here. And since you're getting so defensive, I'll back off. Goodbye, Ms. Neighbor." He took a step back, sliding the door closed behind him with a finality that left you standing there, breathless. The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against your chest as you turned back to the view, the city sprawling below you, full of life and possibility.

Frustration bubbled up within you, mingled with an unexpected yearning. Did he really think he knew you? Your routine? The familiar comforts of studying and early bedtimes were just that—comforts. But the way he challenged you made you wonder if you were missing out on something.

You stared at the door he had just closed, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Maybe he had a point. The thought of breaking free, even just for a night, sent a thrill through you. But the idea was terrifying. As you stood there, you felt the urge to retreat back into your safe little world, but the thrill of possibility tugged at you. What if you did reach out to your friends? What if you let loose for one night? The thought of laughter, music, and dancing sent a shiver down your spine.

With a deep breath, you stepped back inside your apartment, heart racing. Maybe it was time to shake things up. A wild night didn’t sound so bad after all. You glanced back at the door, a spark of rebellion igniting within you. Perhaps it was time to see what life could be like beyond the confines of your routine. You pick up your phone and dial Shoko's number. After a few rings and a wave of anxiety washing over you, she picks up. "Do you wanna go out to the bar tonight?"

10:45 PM.

You walk into a local bar, Shoko standing by your side. "Are you sure? I get that you're trying something new but you hate everything that's sloppy. And a guy is literally over there making out with a woman and pressing up on her. Gosh... they need to take it somewhere private soon." Shoko's suggestion sounded like heaven to you right now. The apartment building was calling your name and you felt a rush of regret hitting you in the face. "I'll be fine. It's only a night anyways." You glimpse around the bar and see a familiar set of eyes latched onto yours. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Shoko looks into the direction your eyes were latched on after hearing your question. There standing was Choso Kamo. As you stood frozen, the air between you and Choso felt electric, charged with all the unspoken words and unresolved tension from earlier.

Shoko sighed and shook her head, "You have fun with that. I'm gonna go get some drinks." You nodded and she disappeared to the bar. Choso walked towards you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black zip-up hoodie. He smirked, that infuriatingly charming smile playing on his lips as he moved closer, the crowd around you seeming to disappear. “What a coincidence, huh?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.” Your lips pursed. “Right,” you shot back, your irritation flaring. “Just because I’m trying to have a night out doesn’t mean I’m okay with your... little show here.” You gestured vaguely at the bar scene, and his gaze narrowed slightly, the challenge sparking in his eyes. “Little show?” he echoed, leaning in a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You mean the one you were just about to join? Seems like I actually got to you, hm? You're gonna have more fun here than you think.” Choso's tall figure towered over you, he watched as you avoided eye contact with him. “Fun?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “This isn’t gonna be anywhere close to fun. This is a disaster waiting to happen. Look at that guy over there—making out with a total stranger like he’s in a bad rom-com.” You nod your head towards the couple Shoko pointed out earlier. Choso moved his eyes towards them and then back at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. "Jealous?" he teases. "Of what?" He leans down, his mouth right beside your ear. "That she's actually kissing someone. I mean, you're so pent up all the time... It's almost obvious that you're not getting enough action. I almost feel bad." He pulled back away from you. "Tell me, sweetheart, how long has it been?"

"You- That's none of your business." He chuckles, "There's no need to be ashamed. I can offer some help, I'm quite the catch after all." Your cheeks flushed a slight red and he didn't need to see. You couldn't let him see. “Please,” you rolled your eyes, but your heart raced beneath your carefully constructed facade. “You’re more of a distraction than anything. You think you can charm your way through life and not get called out for it?” Your fists were clenched, wondering how much longer Shoko's gonna take with those drinks. “Maybe I like a little mess now and then.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, his voice dipping into a low, teasing tone. “Not everyone wants to play it safe. Not someone like you.”

“What's someone like me supposed to mean?” You took a half-step back, an instinctual move to reclaim your space, but it felt like a losing battle. “Someone who hides behind her books and schedules,” he said, his gaze piercing into yours, unrelenting and intense. It felt like he was peeling away layers you’d meticulously constructed, leaving you exposed. “You appear to be afraid of a rush, but I can see it. You crave it.” Your eyes slightly widened, “Stop pretending you know me,” you shot back, your pulse quickening with irritation and something deeper—something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite understand. “You don’t have a clue what goes on in my head.” He leaned in closer, the air thickening between you. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

The noise of the bar faded, replaced by the rapid beating of your heart. “But if you think you can just dismiss me, then maybe you’re the one who’s scared.” Your breath caught, the heat between you palpable and electric. “Scared? Of you? Don’t flatter yourself.” A smirk tugged on his lips. “Not flattery, just observation,” he replied. “But maybe you should be scared. I might just get you to do something reckless tonight.” You shook your head. “Reckless?” you echoed, your voice laced with a mix of annoyance and a flutter of excitement. “You think I’m just going to drop everything and follow you into chaos?”

“Why not? You’re already here.” His voice was smooth and seductive, the challenge hanging in the air like a promise. As he stepped even closer, the world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The offer was tempting. Too tempting for your liking. You purse your lips, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he sees you considering it. "C'mon, you know you want to." You nod your head, "Fine."

TBC...

168 notes · View notes

pandapetals · 4 months ago

Text

Nightmares

After dating for a while, you try to convince Logan to sleep in your bed despite his nightmares.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Things between you and Logan had moved quickly after that long year of pining, flirting, and stolen glances that led to the inevitable confession. It had taken time, but once the feelings were out in the open, things fell into place—almost effortlessly. Logan was a gentleman, old-fashioned in the way he held the door for you or offered his hand whenever you stepped out of the car.

While you appreciated all those gestures, what you longed for most was something simpler. You wanted to wake up within arm’s reach of him, to feel his warmth next to you when the early morning light crept through the window.

But that seemed impossible.

Everyone at the mansion knew Logan didn’t sleep much, and when he did, it often ended in nightmares—violent, heart-wrenching ones that sent his body into a battle of its own while his mind relived horrors buried deep within him. It had been that way for decades, and the others had grown used to the occasional sound of his muttering, the low groans that echoed through the mansion in the dead of night.

You weren’t used to it. You wanted to help. From the moment the two of you began dating, you had been determined to ease his pain. Yet, every time you mentioned it, Logan would brush it off, insisting that it was something he’d learned to live with. "It’s part of me, sweetheart," he would say, his voice low and gruff as if the weight of it all was too much to burden anyone else with. "Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it."

So, he kept his distance. Even as you grew closer emotionally, he kept you away at night, a silent barrier between the two of you. He feared hurting you—he feared himself.

One night, after yet another evening of him retreating to his own room, you had had enough.

"Logan," you said firmly, your voice a mixture of frustration and affection. "I’m telling you, I’ll be fine."

He was standing near the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, the muscles in his arms coiled like he was ready for battle. He shook his head, not meeting your eyes. "You don’t understand," he muttered, his voice thick with that familiar rasp. "I could hurt you. When the nightmares come... I have no control. I can’t... I won’t risk it."

Your gaze dropped to his hands, those calloused hands you knew so well—hands that had held you gently, protectively. You also knew what lay beneath the surface. His claws retracted now, but always there, waiting. The thought of him losing control scared him more than anything.

"I don’t trust myself," Logan whispered, his voice barely audible now as if he was confessing a sin. "I’m sorry."

He turned to leave, but you weren’t ready to let him go—not this time. With a quick movement, you slipped out of bed, catching his arm before he could leave your room. "Logan," you said, your voice softer but firm, pleading. "Please. Just try for me. If it’s too much, I’ll sleep on the floor or... or whatever it takes. But just... be here."

He looked down at you, his expression torn, those stormy eyes filled with an internal battle you couldn’t even begin to understand. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded—barely, but it was enough.

The first night he stayed with you, you had sensed it even before he woke. The way his breathing quickened, his muscles tensed beneath the blankets—small signs that told you the nightmare was taking over. You didn’t hesitate. Slipping out of bed silently, you moved to the chair by the window, watching him carefully from a safe distance. You weren’t afraid—you trusted him—but you knew Logan would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Moments later, his body jerked violently, a low growl escaping his throat as his claws extended with a harsh snikt. He woke with a start, sitting up and panting, his chest heaving as he tried to get his bearings. His eyes scanned the room until they found you sitting there, calm and patient, waiting for him.

"You... you moved," he said, his voice hoarse, the pain of the nightmare still lingering in his tone.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Just giving you space," you said gently. "I’m here, Logan. I’m not going anywhere."

He stared at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he realized you weren’t afraid. You hadn’t run. You were still here, waiting. It was then that he knew he didn’t have to explain—he never had to explain. While he rarely shared the details of what haunted him, on nights like these, when he felt safe enough, he would start to talk, his voice low and raw, as if the words hurt to speak aloud.

He told you about the wars, about the blood and death, and the faces that still haunted him. About the men he had killed, sometimes not even remembering their names. You listened, always listening, never asking more than he was willing to give. When he grew quiet, you would move back to the bed, curling up beside him, grounding him with your presence.

As time passed, Logan began to relax more around you, his nights spent in your bed becoming more frequent. The nightmares didn’t stop, but he learned to trust that you were there, that he wasn’t alone in the fight.

You made your room a safe place for him—a sanctuary of sorts. The dim light of the bedside lamp, the soft hum of a fan in the corner, and the familiar scent of vanilla from the candles you liked to burn. Everything in the room was designed to soothe, to ground him.

Before bed, you created a routine—something simple but effective. You’d brew a cup of chamomile tea, and he’d drink it with that reluctant smirk of his, pretending he didn’t need it but secretly enjoying the quiet ritual. Afterward, you’d settle into bed together, and your favorite part came next.

"Alright," you’d say softly, pulling out a book from your nightstand. "What are we in the mood for tonight? Something classic?"

Logan would nod, his body already relaxing into the pillows. It became part of the routine, you reading aloud to him, your voice a soothing balm against the chaos that sometimes lingered in his mind. You’d start with a chapter or two, your voice soft and melodic, and by the time you’d finished, Logan’s breathing would have slowed, his head resting against your shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Some nights, he’d drift off peacefully before you even closed the book, the tension in his face softening as sleep claimed him. You’d smile to yourself, gently placing the book on the nightstand, and press a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light.

One night, after you finished reading, Logan murmured sleepily, his voice rough but content, "Don’t know how you do it, darlin’."

"Do what?" you asked, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He shifted, tightening his hold on you. "Make me feel...safe."

You smiled in the darkness, your heart swelling at his words. "Because you are safe, Logan. With me, you always will be."

In the quiet that followed, with the moonlight streaming softly through the window, Logan finally let himself believe it.

178 notes · View notes