#into the doorframe to see if maybe this time it will work
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Well, this disease is defined by its treatment—you people make me sick.
{𝘞𝘩𝘰'𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺'𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦—𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺? 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢-𝘩𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺'𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸... 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺.}
—
Oh, no. You were doing so well. No, no no no NO NO NO N
“[Artemis, this isn’t logical.]”
Another fight.
“(Fuck your logic, you hypocrite-!)”
There was never a day of peace in this house. Something always had to go wrong.
Atlas leaned against his door, dully listening to the argument going on. All things they’ve heard before, sure, but she had nothing better to do. He couldn’thave anything better to do, he was always too damn tired. Of course, they were too tired to deal with their siblings too, but whatever.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, eyelids drooping with exhaustion, but sleep had been evasive lately. The yelling grew louder, but he ignored it like always. Another day, another fight. That’s what they always told themself.
Artemis and Helios were always telling each other to listen. Funny how that worked, when neither of them ever thought to listen to the other. They always thought they were better than the other, so obviously only their point was valid. Atlas narrowed his eyes. Their arguing never ended unless he intervened. And she didn’t feel like intervening.
Atlas simply closed their eyes, hoping to zone out and miss the fight entirely. Those two might kill each other, sure, but Atlas couldn’t lend the energy to care anymore. The plan sort of worked.
…
A dark void.
Entirely empty, soundless, sightless, senseless— save for one thing. Blood coated the ground; if it could even be called a ground. The color was indiscernible, as if it was every color and no color at the same time. Perhaps a color unseeable by the naked eye, perhaps it didn’t exist at all. But the metallic tang in the air was unmistakable.
The void seemed to stretch on forever. Of course, you couldn’t test that theory. You couldn’t move an inch. All you can do is stand there, maybe try to perceive the color of the blood. You might go insane if you do that. But you can see a hint of purple, and blue, and red… laced with gold.
You recall that gold blood—ichor, it was called—is the blood of gods. Perhaps there was some higher force at play. You could always sense it. A name rings in your mind.
Harmoni—
—BANG. Atlas jolted awake, startled by a loud sound- a gunshot, maybe. …A gunshot? Who was—
Oh.
Atlas bolted upright, fumbling with the door handle, then throwing it open. He stumbled out, almost falling, then caught himself and sprinted to the kitchen. They could hear Artemis screaming, sobbing, but didn’t register a word. She burst into the room, barely catching herself on the doorframe.
The scene almost made Atlas vomit.
There was a gun on the floor. Artemis was crying, as Atlas heard earlier, and Helios— Helios was on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound in his throat, seemingly choking on his own blood. Helios looked up at Atlas, eyes wild with terror. Artemis was at his side, trying desperately to staunch the blood, but Helios kept pushing them away.
“(I- hic Fuck, I’m so sorry, Helios PLEASE—)” Artemis sobbed, before noticing Atlas. “(Atlas— Atlas, help me, help him- please…)”
Atlas stood there for a long minute, staring at Artemis. Their eye twitched. What a fucking idiot, shooting their own goddamned brother.
“{…Heh.}” A wobbly grin appeared on Atlas’ face, his eyes widened— Though whether it was fear or madness, she wasn’t sure. Their quiet giggles grew louder, more intense, until they were cackling uncontrollably, his eyes still fixed on Artemis. Artemis looked scared, terrified, even.
”(ATLAS, THIS ISN’T—)”
A flash of red light silenced them. Atlas gripped his trident with shaking hands, stepping slowly, deliberately towards Artemis. They were pleading with him, eyes full of terror and crocodile tears. How pathetic. She raised the trident over her head, still laughing.
“{You’re so fucking stupid.}”
Before Artemis could say more, Atlas brought the trident down. They weren’t sure how they felt about Artemis’ screams. She almost felt… elated.
Was this what control felt like? To be able to do something for once? Gone were the days of standing around, helplessly, doing nothing. Blood poured from Artemis’s face—where their eyes once were. Atlas finally pulled the trident out, still for a moment.
A hand grabbed their ankle.
He looked down at Helios, still choking, tears pouring from his eyes. How ironic. The one obsessed with logic, who hates showing emotion or weakness, reduced to this. Atlas dropped the trident, kneeling down next to Helios, peering into his eyes. He was trying to speak. No matter. He started this fight.
Atlas gently rolled Helios onto his back, prying his hand off of their ankle. She looked at the wound. Gross. She grabbed up the trident again, holding Helios down once he noticed, and he futilely tried to pry Atlas’ arm away, shaking his head, panic seeming to set in.
Of course, this was useless. He was weak. Atlas stood again, stepping onto Helios’ torso to keep him still. They pressed the trident against his shoulder, lining it up perfectly…
A sickening cracking noise could be heard as Atlas brought it down, separating Helios’ arm from its socket… relatively cleanly. He knocked the arm away, and moved to repeat the process, ignoring Helios’ thrashing and dry heaving. Atlas’ head throbbed, and his heart pounded, sending a short tremor through his body.
Atlas discarded Helios’ arms, then glanced at Artemis. They surely haven’t learned their lesson. She raised the trident again, driving it straight through their heart, before they simply… vanished. Visions of a dark void. Entirely empty, soundless, sightless, senseless— save for one thing. Blood—flashed through his mind again.
Apathy. That was all Atlas felt by now. That was where Artemis was now. And where they’d stay, for… oh, that didn’t matter. Atlas needed to keep Helios from bleeding out, anyhow.
Purple and blue splattered the floor and one of the walls, swirling and mixing in a morbidly dazzling array of color. It would be beautiful, if not for… actually, no. It was beautiful. Atlas could have taken a moment to admire his work, but he had more important things.
…
Look.
Oh, god, look at what you’ve done now to me—
#chonnys charming chaos compendium#fractured dreamscapes#ame writing#cj mind#cj heart#cj soul#cw gore#tw blood#cw violence#cw vomit#Juno incident
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Can I request a male reader x Bucky Barnes. One that is super angsty/fluffy. Bucky and reader like one another but they never really tell one another because things/people interrupt them. One day Bucky goes on a mission, he comes back super late. Bucky Goes to readers apartment and reader spends the whole night patching up Bucky and making him feel better. Like getting a warm bath to help him relax. Bucky was scared of never seeing reader ever again. Maybe one of them confesses?
a/n: I love it everyone send requests I love em :(
cozy night. bucky barnes x male!stark!reader.
synopsis: after your dad, tony stark, passed away, it's your job to run the company since you are the eldest kid. but going through grief and working isn't easy, you fortunately got bucky by your side ever since you started, which lead to some confusing feelings and a lot for tension between you to, that seems to never conclude in anything due to multiple interruptions.
cw: angst, death (tony's) (i teared up a bit), mention of young pregnancy, fluff, reader has a Cuban mom, slightly described reader, bucky being the sweetest, lots of tension, friends to lovers, bucky being soft and vulnerable, alcohol, anxiety, blood and scars, nudity (non sexual), flirting.
words: 2.8k
You sighed as you kept typing on your computer, a slight frown on your light brown forehead as you checked the enormous pile of papers next to you, while your glasses slightly fell through the bridge of your nose.
A knock on the door slightly called your attention, a loud “come in” came out of your throat. And that sweet, soft “Hey” made the noise on your ears shut, as your attention went completely to Bucky.
It didn't matter if you were tired, burnt out or just having a shitty day, Bucky’s single presence in your office always made you smile.
“Hi.” You smiled sweetly, which made him smile too.
“Just wanted to check on you, it’s getting really late.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“Yeah, I should call it a night.” You sighed, removing your glasses and rubbing your eyes. Bucky’s expression softened.
“Need a lift? We could grab a beer if you want.” He asked, trying to sound casual.
You sighed again. “I would love to, but Happy is picking me up with Morgan in like… ten minutes.” You glanced at the clock, your face softened at the sight of Bucky’s disappointed look. “Maybe another time, Buck.”
“Whenever you want.” He smiled, understanding. “I’m gonna head home, but text me if, for some reason, you finish early, and want to grab that beer.”
“I will. Go home, Barnes.” You smiled lovely, he smiled back.
“You too, Stark.”
After Bucky left, you began to close everything up on the top office of the Stark Tower. You took a look at your clock to check the time, 9:27 pm.
You sighed and looked at your phone, Happy confirmed that he was on the parking lot with your young sister, you smiled at the picture he sent you fo her watching through the window of the car, waiting for you.
You got into the Avengers during the blip, you lived in Connecticut with your mom, a Cuban woman that had become a mother really young, and one of the many who disappeared during the blip. One of those nights when you began to miss her, you began to check the boxes that she always hid in the basement, where you found that your father’s last name was Stark. Apparently, Tony Stark had an adventure with your mother when both of them were younger, a one time thing, that unfortunately -even though your mom says the opposite- lead to her getting pregnant at nineteen years old, in 1989.
When you found out, you managed to get in touch with the Stark Tower, and found where he was staying, only to find his new life, his new wife and daughter. Even though your mom and him weren’t nothing more than a one-night-stand, it hurt you to see how great he was doing aside from the general blip situation, where you were struggling emotionally and economically, not just during the blip but all your life.
Apart from the shock of finding out he had a son, he couldn’t have been happier about meeting you. You talked for almost a day, and he, for the first time, seemed interested in someone else rather than himself and his daughter. He asked about you, about your mom, your studies, your life in general. And you couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know, and at that moment, you believed him when he told you that, if he had known, he would've stayed. You wanted to keep believing that. And he even made you your own suit.
You went with him to find the infinity stones, you fought with Thanos to save him. And when the words “I’m Iron Man” came out of his mouth, you saw the man you had began to call your father, and who now had passed.
“No, no, no, not now. Not now, please.” You sobbed, grabbing his hands, he weakly looked at you. “JARVIS, his vitals.”
But you didn’t even try listening to the voice, you saw his eyes and his slight smile and knew, you knew like you’ve known him all your life.
“Dad, please… I want to know more, please, don’t- Dad-” Your voice cracked more, trying to hold him more only to be removed by Steve. “Dad, please!” You sobbed as Steve held you, trying to make you calm down.
You fell to your knees watching his life leaving his eyes, only crying louder, thinking what are you going to tell Morgan.
“Hey, kid.” Happy made you snap out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” He asked, concerned.
“Yeah, yeah,” You swallowed the knot of sadness in your throat and smiled. “Where is she?” You looked around, and the answer jumped right to your back, making you complain of the sudden hit.
“Big bro!” Your sister hugged your neck from behind. You laughed and moved her around to grab her in your arm, rubbing her hair.
“Hey there, little devil.” You teased.
The night was great, you went to a simple diner, together, ate cheeseburgers as you caressed your sister’s hair. You smiled as you looked down at her asleep in your arms, seeing your dad all over his factions. He looked more like him, you were more like him. But looking at her made you feel a pang of protectiveness and affection that you’d rarely ever felt. He was the best thing your father left you, and the cutest and the softest.
“Can’t we have a sleepover?” Your sister pouted as you began to climb out of the car.
“Morgan…” Happy began to scold her.
“It’s okay, Hap.” You smiled at him. “Maybe during the weekend, alright? a day where I don't have to stay really late and wake up really early” You smiled as she nodded. You gently leaned in and rubbed her little nose with yours, leaning your forehead against hers. “I love you 3000.”
Your sister giggled and smiled. “I love you 3000.”
(...)
A knock on the door called your attention again, and you smiled once Bucky got in your sight.
“Barnes.”
“Stark.” He smiled. “What are you up to?” He nodded at your computer, you sighed.
“Some meetings I need to have with investors, taxes, boring shit.” You shrugged.
“Sounds like heavy shit.” You nodded. “So… In order for you to relax, wanna, you know, grab that beer?” He smiled, leaning against your desk.
You smiled and were about to answer, about to say yes and finally do it. Finally go out with him, have a decent date. But your phone rang.
You sighed. “Sorry.” You said with honest guilt, but that faded when he gave you a knowing smile.
You grabbed the phone, starting with the usual greeting until you got serious. “I’ll be there in a minute.” You hung up and rubbed your face, standing up.
“Hey, hey.” Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “What 's wrong?”
You sighed and he put you against his chest, soothing you before you spoke. “My mom, she is having problems with the house but she doesn’t want to move out, and the idiot that wants to buy the house to make a building came again, apparently, and they are… I don’t know, making a fucking mess.” You pulled away from his embrace. “I’m really sorry, Buck-”
“Don’t you dare to apologize.” He smiled while ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, we’ll get to it some time.”
After fighting with white dudes and defending your mother, at eleven o’clock you finally got home, and after getting changed and ready to bed, you called Bucky.
“Yeah?”
“Barnes, hey.” You instantly smiled when heard him, and you heard how he huffed a smile too.
“Stark, it’s good to hear you this happy.” He teased slightly.
You chuckled. “I just… heard you and got happy.” You said with a slight shy tone.
“You are gonna make me blush, handsome.” He said sweetly. “What’s going on?”
“No, nothing, I just- Are you still down for that beer? Maybe tomorrow?” You said, again in that shy tone, making Bucky chuckle.
“I would love to, doll, but you see, I just got a notification that I have a mission.”
You huffed, frustrated. “Are you kidding me?” You whined.
Bucky laughed at your whiny tone. “It seems like we will never get to it, do we?”
“Don’t say that, idiot…” You giggled.
“I’ll pick you up after the mission tomorrow, alright? I’ll text you.” Bucky said casually, your heart skipped a bit and you smiled stupidly.
“Yeah, yeah… that sounds great.”
The day after that call felt light like a feather, you had a smile on your face all day long, even during long meetings that did nothing but bore you. The last paper you signed and you clocked out for the day, excited to head home and get ready for the night that was about to finally happen.
So you waited, long hours with your outfit that you had been thinking about since the day before. You began to wonder if he would ever come, if he wanted this date as much as you did. You began to think it wasn’t the case, the mission should had finished hours ago, and he simply wasn’t there.
You were about to head to the bar by yourself, but as you waited outside your apartment, your phone buzzed in your pocket.
"Barnes." You answered in a tone that was a mixture of coldness and concern.
"Stark, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it." His voice was strained, and you heard the unmistakable sound of pain in the background.
"What happened?" You asked as you felt a sting of guilt in your heart.
"Mission went sideways. I'm okay, just… need to take care of the scratches." He assured you, but his voice was laced with exhaustion.
"I'll be right there." You said without a second thought, not letting him answer or deny.
When you arrived at his place, you found Bucky leaning against the wall, his shirt stained with blood and his eyes filled with relief at the sight of you. Without saying a word, you helped him inside. You grabbed the first aid kit and some clean towels, your hands shaking slightly as you approached him.
"Let me do this." You said, kneeling down to remove his boots.
He nodded, wincing as you gently peeled his shirt away from his skin. The wounds weren't deep, but they were numerous, a testament to the fight he had just been in. You worked meticulously, cleaning each cut and bruise with gentle strokes of the cloth, your eyes never leaving his.
"Thanks." He murmured, his voice hoarse.
You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time your hands brushed against his skin. "It's what friends do."
He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah," He said softly, "it is." He knew what you meant.
You patched him up in silence, sitting on his couch as you cleaned his small wounds. You moved up to close the small cut on his brown, Bucky winced slightly, gripping your thigh slightly. “Sorry.” You said low. “Don’t be.” He smiled weakly, his hand caressing your thigh gently.
After you patched him up, you got the chance to notice how his whole body was covered in a layer of sweat and dirt.
“Wait here.” You stood up and left for the bathroom, and after some minutes, you peeked through there. “Can you walk here?”
He nodded and approached, he entered the bathroom, covered in steam, the tub filled with warm water. “I’ll help you get undressed.” You said. He was so tired, he just slumped on the toilet with a groan and nodded. With gentle touches you removed his clothes, with nothing but affection and care. You pulled down his pants, his socks, his shirt, and looked up at him, silently asking if you could remove his pants, at which he nodded weakly.
You removed his boxers, not even wanting to check anything in him. You helped him in the tub, and he shivered at the contact of the warm water. “Too hot?”
He shook his hair. “It’s perfect.” You smiled at him gently.
You went to the kitchen and came back with two cold beers opened, passing him one to him.
He looked up, his icy blue eyes softened at the sight of you offering him a drink, he almost wanted to cry. Your family and him already had a story, not the best one, and he didn’t want that to be relevant, but at the same time, there was something that made him want to push you away, to avoid rejection, because if you didn’t want him if you didn’t crave him as much as he did, he wouldn’t be ab;e to do it, to move on from you. But the idea of being away from you physically hurt him, just thinking about not crashing in your office once in a while, seeing you smile, making you blush, making you laugh. He dreamt about that cute face of yours every single night.
He grabbed the beer and both of you took a long sip, one of your hands moved to scratch his scalp while sitting in the edge of the tub. He rested his head on the side of your thigh, sighing, relaxed, happy.
“This wasn’t how I thought our date would go.” Bucky said.
You giggled. “Date?” He blushed and hid his red face on your leg, making you laugh again. “If you told me it was a date before, I would’ve postponed everything in my agenda.”
“Oh, c’mon, you could tell.” He complained, you laughed again and drank from your beer.
“Well, if this is our date, i’m having a great time.”
“Really?” He looked up at you.
“Yeah. I mean, I get to have a drink with a naked handsome man.” You laughed, he chuckled against your leg.
“Yeah, I guess you are right.” He smiled, looking up at you.
“You still in pain?”
He was about to tell you the truth and say no, because that was the reality. His muscles were relaxed due to the warm water, so all the pain was already long gone. But he decided to lie a bit.
“Actually, no.” He huffed, sitting in the tub.
“You have any pain killers here?”
“Mm, yeah.” He kissed your cheek. “But maybe, just maybe, if a pretty boy kissed me, my problems would get solved.”
You raised an eyebrow at him and followed along with his little game. “What a shame, we don’t have any pretty boys here.”
He chuckled and grabbed your jaw gently, turning your face to him. He pressed his lips into yours in a soft kiss, but also a really brief one.
“Well, I guess you are one, because I’m not in pain anymore.” He smiled over his lips.
You rolled your eyes with a playful smile. “You are an idiot.”
“You adore me like that, Stark.” He pecked against your lips repeatedly.
“Hell yeah I do, Barnes.”
#bucky barnes#sebastian stan#captain america and bucky#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x male reader#the winter soldier#the falcon and the winter soldier#marvel#tfatws
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it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)
#like her idea to fix it is to either squish me into the wall while i have like half an inch of grip space or just continue jamming it#into the doorframe to see if maybe this time it will work#her other idea is to put it in my room even tho i barely have space for my bed and wardrobe let alone a whole nother wardrobe#or to put it in the space between the wall and the end of my bed where i wouldn’t be able to stand and pull out the drawers#only the top drawers would be able to be pulled out#she also disregards the fact that i’ve measured everything in my room so i can put everything in the space where i would have the most open#space. and i have maybe a 2.5ft x 12ft (i don’t know how much a foot is)#of open space (that’s in quotations) it’s really walkable but also not bc there’s not enough space to store everything which is why i want#shelves so i can store things not on the ground or in drawers that take up too much space. like this room was supposed to be a laundry room#but instead we have a laundry closet and a small ass room that would probably be better as an office than a bedroom#it’s never been a good bedroom with enough space even when i had a loft bed#that loft bed was the bane of my existence#if i didn’t hit my head everytime i woke up i would end up falling off it on to the ground bc we never fully set it up to where you wouldn’t#fall off of it if you rolled away from the wall#also we have short ceilings so even if i slammed my head on the ceiling when i woke up and wasn’t able to fully sit up i also couldn’t fully#stand under it. i had rlly bad back and neck problems when i slept in that bed
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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.
Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)
A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.
You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.
And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.
We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…
What?
No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.
You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”
Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.
Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.
You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.
Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.
You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.
Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-
“Oh? Still open?”
“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.
And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?
“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”
“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”
You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”
Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”
Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”
“Congratulations, Mr…”
“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”
You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”
“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”
What?
You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”
“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”
There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”
Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”
Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”
“...you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”
“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”
And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.
“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”
That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”
And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”
You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”
---
And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.
“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”
“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.
You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”
Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.
“Alright. Plan B, then.”
Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”
Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”
At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”
“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”
“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”
It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?
“Fine.”
The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”
And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”
He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.
Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.
And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.
You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”
“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”
“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.
“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”
Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”
With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.
“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.
Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”
You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.
“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”
That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.
“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”
It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.
“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”
Your home, for the next month. At least.
And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.
“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.
“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.
“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”
It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.
“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.
Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”
And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.
“Ichiji.”
“Yes, young master.”
“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”
“Of course, young master.”
---
Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.
Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.
Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…
“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.
Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”
“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”
He…didn’t sound like he was joking.
Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”
At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”
“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”
He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”
“For the divorce.”
And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.
You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.
“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”
And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.
You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.
But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.
The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”
Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”
“Only for you.”
Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.
Stammering out, “Corny.”
“Only for-”
“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.
Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.
Gathered here - for you.
Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.
“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”
My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”
It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.
He wins.
“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.
It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.
Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.
Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”
You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”
“A waitress, she said?”
“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”
“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”
The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”
“Mother, be quiet or-”
“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”
Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.
Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”
Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”
“My wife and I are leav-”
“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”
Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.
His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”
Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.
“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.
“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.
He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.
“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”
You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”
What the fuck happened?
He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.
Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.
“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.
“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”
You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”
That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.
---
“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.
The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.
You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”
He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.
“It’ll be alright.” you nod.
And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.
---
Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.
The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.
“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.
Something else also happened - something different.
Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”
“You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-
“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”
Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”
The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”
“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”
You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”
And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”
Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.
“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”
Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.
Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.
“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”
Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.
Were you going insane?
Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”
“Thinking of me?”
Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.
“Satoru?”
His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.
Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.
Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”
A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”
Run away. Run away. Run away-
There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”
“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”
You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”
“So go with me instead.”
“What if-”
“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.
Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.
It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-
And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.
“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.
“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”
He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.
“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.
“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”
He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.
But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”
And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”
“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.
“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”
Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”
You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.
“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”
Rip!
The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.
Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”
“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”
“You’re awful.”
“And yet you married me.”
With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”
You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.
Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.
“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.
“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”
You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.
And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?
Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-
“Sh-shit. Toru-”
“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”
He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-
“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.
“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”
“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”
“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”
One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.
“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.
And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.
Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.
“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”
You weren’t going to make it out alive.
Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”
And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.
“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.
“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.
And he sees right through you.
“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.
Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.
“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.
And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”
You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.
Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”
“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.
You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.
And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.
“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”
You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”
“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”
“All yours, Toru.”
And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.
With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.
“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”
Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.
And exactly where you wanted to be.
You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.
“Close?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”
And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.
Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.
And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.
You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.
And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.
Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”
“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”
Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”
“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons
contains: modern!au, mentions of smoking weed and cigarettes, nsfw content (so minors dni), not proofread, mentions of porn, clitplay and fingering, cunnilingus, degradation (word "slut" is used), sevika being a jackass and teasing the reader about their clothes + possible inexperience, reader's body is referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "clit," "cunt" and "tits," kinda imagined a younger version of sevika here, maybe late twenties
best friend's older sister!sevika who is always cooped up in her bedroom, whirring noises entering the halls from the mechanics she's working with. if you walk past her room, your body immediately gets blanketed with goosebumps from the cold air streaming in from her window, which is always cracked open so that she can blow the smoke from her weed and cigarettes out of there.
sometimes you run into her in the hall outside of her bedroom, cigarette hanging out of her lips, loud music blasting from the speakers she has in there. if you guys are both heading to the bathroom, she'll quietly nod, leaning back into the doorframe to let you go first.
there have been a few occasions where through the open door, you can see a girl laid out on her bed or sneaking out of her window. all you can do is ignore it and try to resist having wandering thoughts about exactly how good she must be in bed to have different girls over all the time.
best friend's older sister!sevika who doesn't really talk to any of you guys, just ruffling your best friend's hair or teasing her before heading back to her room, leaving the rest of you without a word from her. whenever she walks into the kitchen while your friend group is eating or making late night instant ramen, you feel your face heat up at the sight of her in a tight tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination, from her sculpted arms and the grooves of her stomach's abs. she's so tall, so effortlessly handsome, and you can't help but sneak in glances at her back when she bends to the fridge to get some gatorade.
best friend's older sister!sevika who talks to you for the first time when your best friend leaves you alone in the living room to go shower, and sevika enters through the front door, short, black hair tied back. just the sight of her neck is enough to get you tensing up, suddenly acutely aware of the patterned pajamas you have on and how childish they must look to her.
when she spots you, she raises her hand, mumbling an apology, but you insist that the two of you of two can sit together, you were only about to put something on. the truth is, you really don't want to miss the opportunity to get to know her more.
she hesitates, but gives in, sitting on the opposite end of the couch with you, twisting off the cap of her beer bottle and taking a swing from it, grey eyes focused on the television as you scroll through the options.
when you linger on gilmore girls, she scoffs. and not subtly. oh, no, she scoffs loudly, and you turn to find her lips twisted up into a smirk.
embarrassment and defensiveness make for an ugly combination, immediately arousing an irritated, "yes?" from you.
"are we seriously going to watch this crap?"
your mouth drops open. it's the first time she's properly spoken to you one-and-one, except for the brief interactions during your run-ins in the hall, and this is what she says? for a second, you're just stunned at her blunt rudeness, and you need a second to formulate a response before saying, "crap?"
"yes, crap." she tosses her hand at the television. "just a bunch of privileged little shits."
"the show literally deals with money issues!"
she snickers, and you try to ignore the bulge of her arms as they fold over her chest. "which sure aren't that stressful when you have two blue-blooded parents always there to save your ass."
"yes, but on conditions, though!"
she squints at you, lips turned down into a disbelieving frown. "friday night dinner? you're either just as spoiled as them or really naive, because trust me, weekly dinners don't mean shit."
your eyes sharpen into a hard glare, bitterness spilling through at her assumption. "you don't know anything about me!" with an indignant toss of your head, you mutter, "not that you've ever even tried to."
she suddenly bellows with a loud laugh, the edges of it rough and irritatingly pleasing to your ear. "awe, is someone sad over that?"
you roll your eyes. yes, but you weren't about to tell her that, of all people. "no, don't flatter yourself."
"you're not that good of a liar, you know that, right?"
with a twitching eye, you turn on the show, drowning out the noise of her chuckle with an immediate escalation of the volume.
best friend's older sister!sevika who doesn't stop teasing you after that night. now, when you're in the kitchen and she saunters in, she flashes you a smile that's nothing short of complete and utter self-satisfaction. when your best friend leaves you alone in her room, sevika knocks and steps inside, leaning on the wall and asking you how you are, how's work or school, sometimes teasingly tossing in, "you haven't been here in a while -- I didn't make you nervous, did I?"
you always fight back. partially because your attraction to her makes you feel so exposed and flustered that you want to try to hide it through challenging her back rather than being reduced to a blushing, spluttering mess. you know arguing back might be counterproductive, though, since it seems to only amuse even more. but, that leads you to the second reason you keep doing it. because, as on-the-spot and vulnerable it makes you feel, her prodding comments and mischievous attention makes you giddy. sevika, the allusive older sister of your best friend, is actually bantering with you, maybe even flirting with you. and seeing how easily she bounces off your words, how sharp her wit is, makes you only more excited. unnerving as it is, this little thing you guys have going spikes your excitement everytime you come over.
best friend's older sister!sevika who gets bolder and bolder. when she comes into the bathroom as you're brushing your teeth, looking for a hair tie to get her hair out of her face, you catch her in the mirror's reflection glancing at you, eyes quickly flicking up and down. the double take nearly makes you tighten your thighs together, mind whirling with thoughts, speculating over what she might be thinking.
you get your answer when she suddenly snaps the band of your tank top, which causes you to leap on the spot. when your eyebrows furrow into what you hope is a stare strict enough to hide just how turned on you are, she laughs, the noise low and velvety. "cute," she muses, eyes raking over you shamelessly before she reaches to the hairtie on your wrist, snapping it off and tying her hair back with it.
best friend's older sister!sevika who starts working out very intentionally in front of you. doing pull-ups in the kitchen when your friend group is there, lips curling up as her eyes seek you out. usually, by the time she looks in your direction, you've already been staring at her unabashedly for minutes as her arms flex and roll under her ministrations.
you want to crawl into a hole when your best friend smacks your arm, her face squeezed into a sour cringe. "dude, gross."
of course, sevika totally hears the reprimand, and she wiggles a scolding finger in your direction from her corner in the room.
best friend's older sister!sevika who can't stop laughing at the way you gasp and cover your mouth when you catch sight of the lesbian porn opened up on her laptop, which rests amongst her bunched up purple blanket. it only leaves you wondering about what she was doing moments before, if that happy trail you sometimes spot in her loose, muscle-shaped crop tops leads to a curl of hair between her thighs.
"oh, c'mon, have you never seen porn before?"
despite the fact that you can barely keep a straight face in light of this revelation, you manage to bristle. "of course I have."
"oh, yeah?" she leans on her doorframe, tilting her head down to watch you carefully. "got any recs?"
"if I did, I wouldn't share them with you."
"why not?"
"you would just--" you manage to squeeze out before trailing off into silence. the truth is, the idea of you and her watching the same porn, fucking yourselves to the same video, has your clit aching with desire. but, you don't wanna give in that easily, and just do as she requests. something tells you she's too used to getting her way. "you would just corrupt it!"
she raises an eyebrow. "corrupt the porn? by watching it?"
god, you're an idiot. "yes."
"that's quite a feat to manage."
"... yes."
"this wouldn't at all be because you're lying, right? and you really haven't watched porn?"
you grit your teeth, narrowing your eyes at her. god, she's so fucking irritating, talking to you like you're completely sexually oblivious.
at your silence, she ducks her head lower, and you suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of one of her dark locks tickling your cheek. "maybe you're more inexperienced than you let on. maybe you're looking to get corrupted."
fuck, she has no idea. at this point, the rest of your thoughts are practically zapped into silence from the mental image of sevika laying you on her bed, your back to her chest, with her big hands shoved down your panties and massaging your pussy, using your slick to circle your clit into a swollen little bud. her soft lips planting wet, sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek as she coaxes you to watch the filthy video, laughing darkly when you gush at the two women in it eating each other out. biting your ear, whispering how she wants to do this thing or that thing to you, how she'd fuck you better than anyone in these videos could. her thick fingers plunging into your hole, other hand covering your mouth as she makes you come over and over again in her cramped up bedroom.
jesus, this is going too far. you force your body to stiffen, lest her attentive gaze catches any telltale signs of your arousal. "well, maybe you're delusional."
she's unfazed, eyes darting to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "I'm sure I am."
best friend's older sister!sevika who tells your best friend she'll pick you up when she finds out you need a ride home from your part-time job. she insists this is because she doesn't trust your best friend with her car, so she should be the only one to drive it.
when you climb into the passenger seat, you can't help but feel self-conscious, sweaty and exhausted after the long shift. matters are only worsened by being in such a cramped space with her, the very act of being picked up way too date-like for comfort. you can smell her coconut shampoo from here, mixed in with the cologne she wears. her hands on the wheel captivate you, fingers long and thick, veins begging for your tongue to trace them. her hair, which is still bound by your hairtie, is damp and soft.
she takes you out for food, insisting you "get something in you after a long day" (you're certain she's aware of the innuendo, shit-eating grin present when she speaks). when she takes her car into a drive through, she hands you her phone, muttering that you can turn on whatever music you want.
she proceeds to make fun of every song you play.
ignoring your protests, and using her strong arms to shove you aside when you try to lurch over her, she pays. when you thank her profusely, her nose twitches and she nods quietly. you can't help but smile at her modesty.
instead of driving you guys back to hers and your best friend's home, she parks outside the store. you guys continue to listen to music, sharing the meal and talking. her usual snark is present, yes, but she actually listens to you, earnestly so, as you ramble about your shift. she asks you questions, and listens patiently. her answers, on the other hand, are short and to-the-point, but after some nudges to her shoulder and whining, she relents with a sigh and shares some more details.
as the sky darkens, the conversation becomes a bit more personal, and you see a side to her you've never bore witness to before. eyes soft, gaze downcast, voice low, she shows a side to you that's vulnerable. a side that has the layers of responsibility shed.
best friend's older sister!sevika who you can't help but smirk at when her jaw drops upon seeing you in the lacey, skimpy pajamas you recently bought. it costed enough, that's for sure, but you feel immensely successful. after all, you only bought them after seeing them in the porn video she had been watching weeks ago.
"what-- what is that?" her voice is low, hushed.
you touch the back of your neck, suddenly plagued with acute self-awareness over how you look. "just-- it's just pajamas."
that breaks her out of her trance, face breaking into a bout of laughter. "pajamas? you're kidding me, right? you look like you're about to seduce me."
you swallow hard. well, not exactly. all you had wanted was a reaction out of her. actual sex felt like too far-fetched a daydream to get excited over. you try to brush her off, self-doubt gripping you too tightly to allow yourself to be direct. "please, you wish."
"oh? someone's gotten bold." her eyes wander over your body languidly, as though you already belong to her and it's just a matter of time before you admit it. she leans back in the seat at her desk, mouth curving into a playful grin. "besides, who knows if you even have it in you?"
"have it in me to what?"
she snorts. "seduce me, bonehead."
"well, yeah, wouldn't wanna risk disappointing you after all the girls that have been in here."
you wince as soon as the words leave your mouth. god, how pathetic are you? you already sound like a jealous girlfriend, and you haven't even confessed to her.
luckily, sevika chooses not to tease. instead, her mouth presses into a firm line and she says, "you don't need to worry about that."
you gulp at the earnest words. what the hell is that supposed to mean? does she know just how serious your words are? because it sure does sound like that. the thrill of her maybe knowing, maybe even returning, your feelings has your stomach flipping. "why?"
she fiddles with some diagrams on her desk, flicking a thumb on the corner, before her shoulders heave with a sigh. "for the same reason I haven't had any girl over for months."
you nearly flinch at the words, the sheer vulnerability in them yanking you into an intense fixation on her words. is she implying she hasn't had any girl over for months because of you? because, well, what reason could explain both that and why you needn't be afraid of dissatisfying her?
you can only think of one.
best friend's older sister!sevika who pulls away from her desk, spreading her thick thighs over the seat, and nods you over. "come here."
when your trembling body reaches her, she hesitates before spreading her hand along your thighs. you immediately clutch onto her shoulders, shivering at the feeling of her rough, warm palm scraping along your skin.
the gap between her teeth flashes as she laughs. "liked that?"
your nails dig into her shoulders. you don't wanna give up the game just yet. "no."
"no?" she mumbles, leaning in and grazing her teeth right where the lace trimming of your silk shorts meets your skin. "that's too bad. because if you had confirmed my suspicions, I would've rewarded you." her head leans back, eyes shining under the lamp of her bedroom. "you're lucky I'm nice and will give you one last chance."
fuck. you can't resist, not when you're this tantalizingly close to getting what you want. "fine. I--I liked it, okay?"
she presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. "finally."
twenty minutes later, she's on her back in her bed, arms hooked around your thighs while you practically hump her face. your fingers ache with how hard they're grasping onto her headboard, forehead pressed to it as she helps you move your hips on her face. your pussy is making all kinds of squelching noises as she tongues at it, the slippery muscle making a mess of spit and juices as she licks you up so messily, no direction, no rhythm, just raw instinct. her hands have your top shoved up, large hands groping your tits and tweaking your nipples. and god, she just slurps you up, drinking down the thick, sticky arousal coating your folds, wrapping her lips around them to run the tip of her tongue along their shape.
"yeah, fuck my face," she grunts into your pussy. "such a little slut, wandering into my bedroom dressed like that."
a choked out moan leaves you, and she digs her nails hard into your ass as a warning. it makes you jerk harder on her face, her nose bumping against your clit just right and making you cover your mouth in panic. of course sevika takes notice of this reaction, and just a moment later, she's rubbing the point of her nose into your stiff clit, shaking her head side to side so that you get flicked with it.
you think nothing can get better than this -- a notion immediately disproved when sevika's lips round your clit and start sucking it in, her tongue darting out to stroke roughly at it.
and that's how you come, legs shaking as you sag against her headboard and fully sit on her face, unable to stay upright. not that sevika minds, groans of pleasure lost into wetness of your cunt.
best friend's older sister!sevika who actually got her sister's blessing weeks ago and was now just waiting on you.
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You accidentally had sex with Bakugou.
You two had fallen asleep in his room after a hang out. You were bestfriends but you had some underlining feelings for him. So when you woke up in the middle of the night to him cuddling you, you almost choked.
You needed to pee really bad so sadly you had to pry yourself out of his arms. When you came back his eyes were cracked open just barely. He mumbled something before opening his arms for you to join him again.
It was out of character, maybe tired Bakugou was just a touchy guy. It couldn’t be more than that.
So you joined him on the bed. You buried your face into his neck. You had to savor this cause most likely this’ll be the last time this happens. Also, you were too tired to freak out. You just wanted to fall asleep in his arms.
You can barely explain what happened after that. He hiked your leg onto him, still with his half open eyes, and thrusted right against your clothed pussy.
The next thing you know, he’s dry humping you. And then he’s fingering you. And finally he’s fucking you.
It felt good, too good.
But the morning after? You felt embarrassed. No way you just fucked him without even a first date. He’s gonna think you’re easy. He might even tell everyone that you are.
Of course, that would never happen but you were panicked. You couldn’t possibly comprehend that the great Dynamight chose you. You weren’t famous. Not a vogue model, a hero, or even wealthy. You had nothing to give him.
He had to be messing with you.
So you slipped out of his hold at 5am sharp and went home.
You fell back to sleep in tears and woke up to several texts and calls. Good thing you had your ringer off.
Bakugou - 6:34am
Where’d you go?
I was gonna make you breakfast dumbass
Bakugou - 6:52
Y/n?
Missed call - 7:00am
Bakugou - 7:30
Is this about last night?
I’ll wait for that call back so we can talk about it.
Missed call - 10:03am
Bakugou - 10:05
Call me and we can talk about it. This ignoring me isn’t gonna make it go away.
Missed call - 11:12
Missed call - 11:26
Missed call - 11-31
Bakugou - 11:40
Fucking call me back, this shit isn’t funny.
You’re so lucky I don’t know where you live yet. I’d be there in 15 minutes if I knew.
You debated calling him back. But your embarrassment and anger stopped you from letting him explain himself. How could he use your feelings against you like that! He probably knew that you liked him and wanted a quick fuck.
You started to cry all over again.
A week passed by with no contact. He sent you the occasional text telling you to talk to him but after the 6th day he seemed to give up. At least you thought that until he showed up at your door.
You opened the door wide without checking who it was since you were expecting a package. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blonde leaning against the doorframe, still in his hero costume. He must’ve just gotten off work, saving civilians and climbing the charts. It was another reminder of how he could never want you.
“You gonna let me in or am I-“
You tried to slam the door in his face but he shoved it back open easily. He let himself in, scanning the place.
“Nice place, ‘don’t see why you hadn’t invited me over.”
Maybe it’s because your small, cosy apartment didn’t compare to his high rise penthouse at the top floor.
You grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out. But he wasn’t having it and didn’t let you move him an inch.
“You need to leave, Bakugou.”
“Wow. Last name basis and I was inside you a week ago.”
“Yeah well that shouldn’t have happened.”
“Okay but it did so let’s fuckin’ talk about it.”
You just wanted him to leave before you bursted out in tears. You shook your head, trying to pull him harder but to no avail. Your lip quivered in frustration as tears welled up in your eyes.
Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and set you on the couch.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
You broke down in tears.
You told him everything, every assumption you made and every insecurity. You told him how you liked him but you knew he didn’t like you back. He sat there patiently, not speaking a word until you were done.
He got up with a blank face. You thought he was gonna leave at first but he kneeled down to be eye to eye with you.
“Wanna go on a date?”
It surprised you. It was the last thing he expected you to say.
“I’ll take you on a date and prove to you how much I want you. And for the record, I’ve probably liked you longer than you have me. When we met in that coffee shop I immediately knew you were the one I wanted. ‘S rude of you of you to make assumptions but I’ll let it pass if you go on a date with me.”
You agreed as he wiped off your tears. Who were you to say no?
#i was gonna write more smut#but it was already too long#and thats out of character for antiwhores#part 2 maybe?#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#bakugou angst#bakugou katsuki
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A Different Kind of Training
Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!
Word Count: 2.8k
Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.
Masterlist
The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.
You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.
“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.
You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”
He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”
You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”
Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.
“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.
“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.
Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”
His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.
The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.
“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.
You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”
His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.
As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.
You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”
Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”
The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.
“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.
Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”
The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.
“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.
The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.
That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.
You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.
He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.
You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”
Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”
You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”
The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.
“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”
A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.
Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.
When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.
Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.
Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.
You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.
Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”
Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.
His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.
Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.
The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.
“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.
“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.
“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”
He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.
His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.
Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.
His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.
“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.
You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.
“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.
“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.
He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.
He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.
“Please Logan just fuck me already.”
Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.
The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.
“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”
“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.
“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.
The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.
“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.
“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”
You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.
“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.
He doesn’t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.
“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.
“Where d’ya want it?”
“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.
Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.
Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.
“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.
“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,
“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”
Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#mutant reader#female reader#hugh jackman#marvel#x men#mcu#deadpool and wolverine#oneshot#fanfiction#smut#reidsworld
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Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.
So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.
Mr crawling
Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.
He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.
‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.
‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.
‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.
While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.
Mr silvair
The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.
He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.
He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.
Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.
He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.
Mr Scarletella
Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.
He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.
He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.
His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.
Mr Hood
Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.
He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.
It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.
It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.
Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.
#homicipher#homicipher x reader#homicipher x you#homicipher imagine#homicipher imagines#mr crawling#mr crawling x reader#mr crawling x you#mr crawling x y/n#mr crawling imagine#mr crawling imagines#mr scarletella#mr scarletella x reader#mr scarletella x you#mr scarletella imagine#mr scarletella imagines#mr silvair#mr silvair x reader#mr silvair x you#mr silvair imagine#mr silvair imagines#mr hood#mr hood x reader#mr hood x you#mr hood imagine#mr hood imagines
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Sukuna hates how petty you can get when you’re fighting.
There is a part of him that loves your stubbornness, sure, like when you huff at him and make him work for your affection, but right now, you’re on day three of the silent treatment, and he’s losing it.
You enter a room and he’s already in it, you leave. You’re talking to yuuji and he comes in, you stop talking immediately. You haven’t been staying the night anymore, and you haven’t given him a kiss goodbye any time you’ve left. Even his ma is questioning what he did wrong, and he can’t give her a concrete answer.
He’s losing it.
Hes spammed texted you, he’s been trapping you in rooms by leaning in the doorframe, he’s been trying to get yuuji to be his messenger, but nothings working. You’re not biting.
“You’re over complicating this,” yuuji shakes his head and thumbing through channels. “Literally just apologize.”
“At this point I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!”
“Well they’re on their way over, thinking you’re going to apologize, so you’d better figure it out.”
“You’ve been an immense help, thank you, asshole.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and when Sukuna takes a deep breath and answers it, you nearly spin on your heel to leave.
“Oh I don’t think so,” he snips, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the house and trying not to focus on how you’re not even fighting against him, and that’s how indifferent you are to him. “We’re talking. Like it.”
“Hey dawg!” Yuuji cheers, clicking off the tv and waving. You wave back, your streak of not talking in front of Sukuna continuing. The younger chuckles, “I’ll let the adults duke it out. See ya!”
The room fills with silence as yuuji leaves, making Sukuna immensely uncomfortable. The way you’re looking at him has him uncomfortable, you’re making him so uncomfortable, and he just wishes you’d toss your pride to the side and talk to him and cuss him out or something.
“You look… good.”
Nothing.
“I’ve missed you.”
Nada.
“I made out with someone else because I got sick of you ignoring me.”
You scowl at him.
“Okay, I was lying. I was hoping you’d cuss me out.”
No dice.
“You’re acting like a fucking child!” He takes a deep breath in to try and ground himself, and you merely watch him with a hurt expression.
Okay. That didn’t help his situation.
“Fucks sake,” he grumbles, making a move to guide you backwards. He’s got you backed into a wall, hands on your shoulders while your arms stay nonchalantly crossed.
“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me; what did I even do?” He snaps, leaning close to your face threateningly.
You blink unamused.
Oh.
You’re gonna speak alright. He’s gonna make sure of it.
“Speak.”
You merely look him up and down and turn your head.
“Talk! Now!”
You let a tired exhale through your nose pass.
“I said i was sorry, and i know you know that was hard for me, why am i still being punished by you?” It’s bait to make you mad and talk, he knows he hasn’t apologized to the most sincere of his ability, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.
“Maybe I’ll tickle ya, how about that?”
That, does, have your eyes widening but you still don’t spare him a breath. He smirks, “I’d bet you’d hate that, huh? Holding in all that laughter and begs for me to stop, knowing I’m not going to until you talk to me… and I’ll do it too. You know that.”
You merely cross your arms over your chest tighter.
He shrugs, “you asked for it.”
And he’s gotta say, he’s impressed with how little you’re fighting back from him scooping you in his arms and tossing you on the couch, straddling you, even taking your two wrists in his massive paw and holding them above your head. Your lips wobble in anticipation, and he’s got you booked now. “Any last words? A quick ‘I hate you,’ maybe?”
You blink, bored, almost calling his bluff, and he comes up to smack his face in frustration. He wasn’t actually bluffing, he did have full intentions of making you scream, but he was so sure you’d crack under his gaze, even a quick kick to him as he was adjusting your body.
No dice.
With a shrug, hands come down quickly to tickle the meat of your ribs, settling in the dips and scratching at the bones maddeningly. He sees your lip become wobblier, and he smirks down at you. “Nothing? Not even a giggle? You must be pissed at me.”
You screw your eyes shut to ignore him and he clicks his tongue, “now you can’t even look at me? That sucks.”
He leans down to nibble at your neck and ear, whispering little words against your skin to make you squeak. But it isn’t until he cheats and uses his mouth to blow a raspberry on your sensitive neck, an area he’s so used to pressing loving kisses to, that you finally crack.
“YOURE SO CHEAP!” You scream, followed by a flurry of laughter and struggling from his tight hold. Your laugh is whiny and desperate, feet digging into the couch while his fingers merely slither up and under your arms.
He smirks against your skin, “gotcha.”
“Fuck off!” You squeal, tugging as hard as you can in his grasp. “Stohop it!”
“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asks. You shake your head back and forth, but he cocks a brow. “Is that a no? Are we going to talk about your issues with me, or am I going to have to tickle you for the next few hours?”
“HOURS?!” You howl.
He shrugs, “you ignored me for three days, least I deserve is to tickle you until you sob.”
“I wasn’t-“ you’re cut off by a flurry of your own giggles. “This isn’t-“ a few more yowls of your laughter when he digs in more. “FUCK OFF!”
“Nah,” he snickers. “This is more fun.” He does, however, stop his torment and pulls back, but he does look down at you impatiently. “Speak,” he echos from earlier.
You let out a few more titters slip past your lips, but you do sober up slightly, “you don’t even care that I was mad at you.”
“Uh, I was about to tickle you until you died, I think I cared too much-“
“No, Sukuna. You just didn’t want me to be mad. You never apologized and you never even bothered to try and make it better…”
This, oddly, has Sukuna’s heart twisting, squeezed with emotions and realization that he did mess up, pride couldn’t save him now and if he wanted to fix this, he’d have to prove it.
He sighs in truce, “I’m sorry, babe.”
“….”
“What?”
“That’s it?”
He rolls his eyes, “what else do you want me to say?”
“I want you to care that I was hurt!” You whine, raising on your elbows. “I want you to understand I was hurt, that you messed up! Not be so prideful and not admit it!”
“Alright, alright, jeez,” he groans. He locks eyes with you, and he knows you’re not going to like it, but he leans down to kiss you, using his two hands to cup your jaw, letting his thumbs stroke your bone lovingly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve sucked having to deal with my shitty ass apologies before. I never should’ve pulled that shit, and I hated not having you by my side.”
This, has you softening.
He presses another kiss to you, “I missed your laughter. I missed you scolding me. I missed you being sarcastic… don’t pull that silent treatment shit again, will ya?”
You hum happily, “don’t piss me off and I won’t have to.”
He blinks unamused, and as the thought of tickling you again crosses his mind, you lean up to kiss his lips giggling softly in the warmth. “I’m kidding. You and I both know you’re not going to stop pissing me off.”
“Love when you answer your own demands,” he chuckles.
The tightness in his soul loosens as you submit to his affections, and he does make a mental note to never piss you off so bad again where you go back to happy to never talk to him again. He hates it more than even he knows, drags him down and he feels like he’s missing a crucial part of himself.
But it is good to know he can get you back out of that funk.
#sukuna#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#sukuna x gn!reader#sukuna x reader fluff#sukuna imagine#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen fluff#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader fluff#sukuna ryomen x gn!reader#sukuna ryomen imagine#sukuna ryomen jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x gn!reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x yn#jjk x y/n#jjk x you
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“babe. baaaabe. babe!”
“what, satoru?” you ask sharply, looking up from your laptop to where your boyfriend has spread himself across your couch, his legs in shoko’s lap.
he lifts his shades to look at you. “was i your first crush?”
“yes,” you answer quickly.
you immediately return to the report you’re writing, missing the face shoko makes before she says, “that’s not true.”
“ieiri,” you whisper harshly, but it’s too late. your boyfriend’s already jumped off the couch to lean his palms against your desk.
“what? i wasn’t your first?!”
“you were,” you insist, glaring at your friend. “shoko is clearly misremembering things.”
“am i though?”
“you know what, it’s fine,” gojo sighs, slipping his shades back on and rolling the sleeve of his t-shirt up so he can flex. “obviously i’m way cooler than whatever lame schmuck high school you was crushing on.”
behind him, shoko’s scoff is the final nail in your coffin. “nanami is way cooler than you ever were.”
you slap your forehead, bracing yourself for gojo’s inevitable overreaction.
but he doesn’t get the chance, interrupted by a light knock against your doorframe from, you guessed it, nanami kento.
“yaga said you wanted to see me?”
cue overreaction.
“you had a crush on— on him?”
nanami swats gojo’s finger away from his cheek.
“oh my god,” your boyfriend breathes, currently experiencing a quarterlife crisis. “you liked this emo nemo?”
nanami ignores him, sending you a questioning look. “he doesn’t know?”
“what is it now?” satoru asks, slumping back into the couch. “did you guys go on a date or something?”
your lack of answer is enough for him to let his head fall back rather dramatically.
“can you blame her?” shoko asks. “he was sexy back then. in an edgy, mysterious kind of way. meanwhile, you were like…if a string bean made love to a cauliflower.”
even gojo doesn’t have a witty retort prepared for that.
you decide to clear this up once and for all. “it wasn’t just about looks. you were busy after— after riko. you didn’t have time for a relationship or…for me. you wanted to get stronger and i didn’t want to get in your way.”
“you wouldn’t have been—”
“i would have.” you shrug. because you know him, and you know what he was like. “and that’s okay because we were still kids, satoru. and it was only one date! no need to get so torn up about it!”
_____
“what is this?” you ask later that night, when you find satoru hauling a huge box into your apartment.
“it’s a bowflex!” gojo explains proudly, patting the unopened box. “shoko said that i was built like a string bean, so i’m gonna buff up like nanami! and when megumi moves out next year, i’m gonna turn his room into a gym.”
you lean in the doorway, amused. nanami also has a home gym. “is that why you’re also wearing a suit and tie instead of your usual uniform?”
he does a show spin, letting you take it all in. you don’t even want to know how much it must have cost. “do you like it?”
“you do look very handsome.”
“i know,” he winks, cocky as ever. “now watch this.”
he brushes a few strands of hair over his eyes, lowering his voice a few octaves as he says, “taxes. office work. satoru, i respect you so much!”
you walk up to him, brushing the hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “nanami would never say that last thing, but i do like the effort.”
he loops his arms around your waist, returning the kiss and murmuring against your skin, “did it turn you on though? maybe i should get an office job—”
“satoru,” you whine, resting your forehead against his chest. “it was just a short-lived crush. and it was forever ago! i’m pretty sure you’ve had crushes that weren’t me.”
“nope,” he hums, resting his chin atop your head. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve ever needed…is you.”
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Little Flower
Summary: You're startled during a power outage late one night when your co-worker, Harry, is at your door, drenched from the rain. How does he even know where you live?
Word Count: 4,468
A/N: This is a bit dark you guys! It's a classic stalker story so just keep that in mind as you read and only consume what you can handle! xoxo
Warning: smut, cheating, dark elements, coercion, stalking, aggressive male behavior, size kink, breeding kink, and sort of dubcon via manipulation
. .
You always loved rainy, stormy nights. It was the best time to snuggle up on your couch with a blanket and a pint of ice cream and watch scary movies. You were supposed to go out with friends but the weather had changed everyone’s plans. Some streets were even flooded and it just wasn’t going to be worth it to get out in the storm to go to some bar and drink gross, expensive drinks and then figure out how you’d get home.
This was far better, you determined, as you dunked your spoon into your cherry chocolate cheesecake ice cream.
Definitely better.
But then a sudden loud crash of thunder shook your windows, making you drop your pint of ice cream onto the floor at the same time you were suddenly shrouded in darkness when your electricity went out, taking your entertainment of the slasher movie you were watching with it.
You tore your blanket off your legs in annoyance and reached down for the ice cream container when you heard another noise making you still your movements as you listened through the heavy sound of rain and wind. It was coming from your back door. You strained your eyes to see through the dark as you placed the carton of ice cream on your coffee table and reached for your cell phone so you could investigate the noise.
Turning on your flashlight app to the brightest setting (thank god for modern technology) you made your way to the kitchen and peeked out the door’s window. But there was nothing that you could see.
You pursed your lips to the side and looked down at your phone and it was then you realized you had no cellular service at all. Which was odd. Sure the wifi was out with the electricity but cell service too? The storm must have knocked out a tower you supposed.
It was 11:47 pm. And since the electricity was out you figured you’d just go to bed. You couldn’t mindlessly scroll social media if you couldn’t get on the internet. So maybe this night wasn’t definitely better than going out with friends would have been.
You sighed to yourself and shined your cell phone light over the floor to make your way to your bedroom when there was the sound of a knock at your front door. Four harsh raps that had you stopping dead in your tracks.
You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and who would be out in such a heavy storm so late? Turning off the flashlight you slowly approached your front window to peek out but it was difficult to make out who was standing in front of your door. You could tell that it was a man but not much more.
Three more urgent knocks startled you, making your skin chill and putting you on edge.
You took a chance to peek through your door’s window at just the edge, hoping the man wouldn’t see you peering out but just as you did so a flash of lightening lit up the entire space around you as well as your front porch and you blinked as you recognized the man at your door.
It was someone you worked with.
You relaxed as you waved out the window and then opened your door. His hair was wet and his clothes were soaked, making his shirt cling to his body.
“Harry! What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
He looked behind himself and placed his hand on your doorframe, “Can I come in?”
You nodded and pulled your door open for him to enter. His presence felt heavy. Something was different about him. You weren’t sure why exactly. You didn’t know him all that well but he seemed nice enough at work. But in that moment he felt like a different person.
Closing your door you turned to face him, trying to push down the odd feeling you were getting, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Got caught in the rain and just needed a spot to ride it out a bit. S’okay if I hang out here until it lets up?” He stepped in toward you which put you right back on edge again.
“Uh… I mean yeah. Sure. Were you in the area? I thought you had a car.”
Harry’s dark figure loomed over you as he spoke, “I have a car. It’s down the street. And yes. I was nearby.”
You backed up for some space, “Oh. Did your car break down?”
“Something like that.”
You tried to steady your breaths. Something was off.
“Did you enjoy the flowers I got for you, Y/n?” Harry’s chest was rising and falling heavily as if he’d been running just before.
“Um…” you looked down at the cell phone in your hand and back up to the man as your eyes began to adjust to the dark, “Was that you? I didn’t realize… I thought they were delivered to me by mistake.”
You’d gotten flowers sent to you at work on Friday afternoon. A gorgeous bouquet stuffed with lovely flowers in a pretty glass vase. At first, you thought your boyfriend had sent them but when you texted him he got upset that someone else had sent you flowers.
The card read “To my little flower.”
You chalked it up to being sent to the wrong person because there was no name on anything.
Harry shook his head as he moved closer, “Those were from me. So were the chocolates the week before. And the gummy bears before that. But I was disappointed to find out you had a boyfriend.”
You swallowed and felt your back press into your door. You wondered if you could make a run for it but Harry twisted your deadbolt and then placed a palm flat on the wood next to your head, “How long have you been seeing him?”
You nodded, “Umm. For almost a year.”
Harry turned his head to look around your living room. You were feeling all kinds of weird things in that moment.
The first was fright. Harry’s sudden aggressive behavior was a shock to you. You were also feeling very curious about what was going on. Why was he in your home? How did he know where you lived? What was he planning on doing? But the most concerning thing you were feeling was that trickle of adrenaline and excitement.
Because that was another thing. Harry was probably the hottest guy you’d ever seen. All the girls at work gossiped about him in private. Talked about how fit he was, how handsome, his hair, his eyes, his voice… You did find him quite alluring, you’d just never gotten the chance to really get to know him. Plus you had a boyfriend to think about so getting close to another man wasn’t a good idea anyway.
“A year? Really?” You could see the outline of his face and the slope of his nose as he licked his lips, “And he’s not here right now with you?”
Shaking your head you kept your eyes on his. You didn’t know what his next move was going to be.
And when he lifted a hand up to delicately run his fingers over your cheekbone a shiver was sent down the knobs of your spine and you closed your eyes, “No. He’s at home. He doesn’t live here.”
You heard a small laugh press through his nostrils, “I know he doesn’t live here. I’m just fucking with you.”
You opened up your eyes in confusion and you saw a smirk on his face, but he didn’t back away from you to give an inch of space.
“See I’ve been keeping track, Y/n. I know almost everything there is to know about you. Pretty little flower needs something her lame boyfriend can’t give her.”
A shuddered breath left your lungs, “What do you mean?”
Harry’s gentle fingers at your cheekbone lowered to your jaw, “I mean look at what’s going on right now for example. You’ve got the big bad wolf standing in your living room, ready to do ungodly things to you, and your shithead boyfriend is safe at home, probably with his sidepiece because he never cared about you in the first place.”
You swallowed and shook your head, “What? Sidepiece?”
Harry’s dark chuckle vibrated out of his chest as his thumb ran up the side of your neck, “That’s right, little flower. Marco has been cheating on you. Some skinny girl with ratty hair. God only knows what he sees in her when he’s got you at the helm. A shame you’ve chosen such a loser. I would worship the ground you walked on if you were mine.”
“What are you going to do to me?” You had a hard time keeping your thoughts in a straight line. Marco was cheating? It could be a ruse. Perhaps Harry was lying. But also the stroke of his thumb at your neck was pressing harder into your skin and it was causing your head to go dizzy and your limbs were heating up.
Harry’s pink lips curved up into a wicked grin, “I have a few things that I’d like to do to you. Would you like to hear them?”
Did you want to know? Was he going to hurt you? That, you didn’t want. You weren’t much of a fan of pain. But if he were to force himself on you somehow… Maybe if he were to take you to your bed and do something ungodly to you… well, what would that entail?
“Yes.” You squeaked out pathetically.
That dark smile on his face widened, “That’s a good sign, flower. Honestly, I kind of expected a little more of a struggle from you. But you seem to like this so far. That’s going to make this so much easier. So much better for us.”
He moved in toward your face and then you felt his breath on your jaw and down your neck before he spoke against your skin and you felt that icy prick of exhilaration cover your body, “I’ll be soft with you as long as you let me. If you fight me it’s going to be a lot less soft, understand me?”
You knocked your head up and down in an affirmative nod as you held your breath.
His plushy mouth pressed over the side of your throat and you felt his tongue drag upward to your jaw, “First I want to taste you. Need to know what you smell like. Find out how thick your arousal gets and what your flavor is on my tongue.”
You gulped down the moan you nearly let out as you closed your eyes and his lips nipped over your skin to the front of your neck, “But then I want to know what you feel like, Y/n. Want to know how it feels when your insides are wrapped around my cock. Want to hear your pretty voice saying my name when you come. Want you to forget all about Marco. Because I want you for myself. Yeah?”
You felt like you were in a dream. Maybe it was just a dream. One of those strange fever dreams that feels like it’s happening but then it feels too weird to be real. And if it was just a dream… well what was the harm in it?
“Yes.” You whispered, your voice hitching up an octave.
“Yeah? You want that flower? Because if you do there’s not going to be any turning back. I won’t be able to let you go after this.”
You lifted your shaky hands up to his chest, feeling the moisture from his shirt under your palms. His heated skin underneath was taut and well-muscled. But of course, you knew he was strong and fit.
Harry kissed up your jaw and then his mouth was pressed against yours and the sizzle of your bodies pressed together was like an electric shock to your system as your mouth opened for his with ease. You smoothed your hands up his pecs, to his shoulders, and then to the back of his head into his wet hair. You allowed a moan to fall from your mouth against his and he shifted his hips before lifting you up by the back of your thighs and making you wrap your legs around his waist as he walked you to your bedroom, like he knew exactly where he was going.
He dropped you down to your bed and peeled his shirt off. So many tattoos that you had a hard time making out in the dark but you saw the inky designs, some blending together, some letters, numbers, drawings…
You felt his hands tear down your night shorts, taking your cotton panties with them in one quick tug, and then he began to undo his pants, pushing them down his sturdy legs as he kept his gaze on yours.
You felt like a different person. Like this was happening to someone who was taking over your body. The darkness of your room lit up with a lightning flash and then the heavy roll of thunder shook your house.
Harry crawled over you, his bulky frame covering you completely as you felt his fingers pulling your t-shirt off until your breasts were bare and the cool air of your dark room covered you in chills.
But he dipped down and placed his warm palm on one of your breasts while his mouth suctioned at the other side, pulling gently at your nipple and then lapping at your skin until he moved to the other side, warming your skin with his lips and his saliva.
“Gah!” You panted as you felt his teeth dig into your bud and you lifted your head to peer down at him.
Harry smiled against your nipple and then lifted himself to look down at you, “Sorry. Said I’d be soft. Might just accidentally nip at you here and there. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you, Y/n. How desperately I need you,” he ducked his face down between your breasts and dotted hot kisses down the center of your tummy until he gripped the inner parts of your thighs and pushed them apart so he could tuck himself in between.
You let out the loudest gasp you’d ever let fall from your lungs when you felt his soft lips peppering kisses up your labia. Harry’s tongue jutted out between your crease and you felt the warmth of his wet muscle slide up until he bumped into your clit.
“Oh flower…” he breathed against your cunt, “Better than I imagined…”
When he wrapped his plush lips around your clit you sucked in a sharp breath and let your head fall back into your blankets as Harry’s arms caged you in by the back of your thighs.
You’d never been eaten out with such enthusiasm. Marco always acted like he was going to hurt you so it usually felt like a limp rag against your pussy, which did absolutely nothing for you. But Harry felt like a real man with a warm mouth and a big wet tongue going at you like he was frustrated. Crazed.
His moans vibrated over your core and up to your hips as you wiggled under him, softly bucking yourself up against him.
“Oh!” You moaned loudly and reached down to grab onto anything when you felt his hand pull at yours and slide his fingers between your digits as he pressed it down into the mattress. But he did not let up his licking and sucking and it felt like the whole world would crumble around you if he let go of your hand.
The sound coming from between your legs was proof of how wet you’d gotten. He had worked you up into a frenzy without much effort at all. You weren’t sure if it was the way he was eating you out, or the very strange circumstance of him showing up at your place and making some kind of claim on you but you knew you’d give yourself to him if that’s what he wanted. Even if it was wrong. Even if made you a bad person. Even if Harry was a bad person…
“Shit! Oh ffff…” you yelped when he focused on your clit and it stung your flesh in the most salacious way you’d ever felt. You swore he was sucking the soul right out of you and inhaling it whole for himself.
Your whines grew loud as you squeezed his hand and his shoulders pressed harder into the backs of your thighs. He said he’d be soft but this wasn’t soft. It was better. It was hot and twisted and you should have been ashamed at how much you liked it but you were on the cusp of an orgasm and you couldn’t stop yourself.
The world around you went blank except for Harry’s mouth and his hand wrapped around yours. There was no telling how long you were shaking or crying his name or how loud you’d been or even where you were in that moment.
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt those soft pink lips gliding up your body and then finding your neck, a harsh suck making you coo in ecstasy. Everything in your body felt exactly right. Harry had turned you into another woman and his warm body covered you possessively. You were his and he’d just shown you that.
“Tasted like sunshine and butterscotch,” his lips smeared over your cheek hotly, “My little flower deserves her cunt eaten properly every day. Now that you’re mine you’ll never go without.”
You sighed and then you felt his warm shaft against your pussylips. He still had your hand in his as he looked down at you and lined up his tip with your opening, pushing in only his bulbous head.
You hissed at the tightness of it, arching your back into him.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna go in slow so it doesn’t hurt. Tiny little hole needs worked open, yeah?”
You nodded with a whimper, “It’s so… you’re so big… oh god…”
“We’ll get you used to it. Don’t worry sweet, flower. Gonna take good care of you…”
His fat cock slowly took up inch by inch of your insides. You’d never felt such a full feeling from a cock before. Harry’s dick was thick and the further he pressed inward you could tell he was also long.
He slowly backed himself out to the tip and kissed your mouth with a quick peck before smiling down at you as he drove back in, pushing deeper yet. The kind of stretch he was giving you felt impossible. Even your huge dildo (which you hid from Marco so as not to hurt his fragile feelings of seeing a toy that was bigger than he was) didn’t feel this big, didn’t give you this kind of fullness.
There was the sound of a soft squelch of your pussy getting stuffed as he bottomed out. He nuzzled his face into your neck and panted softly as he thrust deeply. You could feel your insides getting moved around, rearranged, and prodded into.
It did something to your brain to know your pussy was making a man with such a big cock feel like you were. You could feel his cock twitching as he rocked into you. The front of his thighs pressed into the back of yours as he fucked you with his large dick.
“You feel that, flower?” His hot breath cascaded over your neck as he spoke.
“Mmm… I feel it all, Harry…” you moaned in response as you flexed your hand inside of his and brought your other hand up to his broad back to hold onto his outer lat.
“I can tell you feel it too. Feel me way up in your tummy, spreading you open like you’ve never been. Feels like I’m fucking a virgin right now,” he trembled as kept up his languid pace.
And compared to anyone else you’d slept with, yeah… you could say you were like a virgin. You’d never had anything so large inside of your pussy and you knew you couldn’t go back to anything less.
“Gonna get you fucked and filled so nicely every day. My little flower… fuck… feels so tight and wet around me. So warm. Just begging for my come.”
You moaned out breathily. Every stroke of his shaft and dip of his crown into your guts had you reeling. It was so much and so good. You were already addicted to the way he was fucking you and talking you through it.
“I need your come, Harry. I need you in my womb so bad…” you panted your words but you weren’t sure if those words had come from you or not. Maybe you were just cock drunk or cock dumb or whatever it was you’d heard of that happened to some people when they were getting a good dicking but it was something you’d never experienced and you wanted him to claim every part of you. You’d never before asked for anyone’s come. You’d never fucked without a condom. But Harry was the exception to everything.
His slow, deep plunges were driving you insane. Every sticky wet slide of his cock through your walls, every time you felt his balls fit up against your ass, every grind of his hips against yours… it made you feel obsessed. Like an unstable lunatic, hungry for something that no one else would ever understand.
“Need me deep in your womb, flower?” Harry pasted his hips to yours and rocked against you, making you squeal at the press of his tip into your cervix, “Is that what you want? Want me to stuff you with my come and give you babies, make you mine forever? Yeah?”
“Yes! Please!” You gasped when he bit into your neck as the roll of his back and his hips into you suddenly faltered and his rhythm grew sloppy.
Harry trembled over you as he pressed his nose into your jaw, his moans growing louder and his cock was twitching, leaking precome as his balls squeezed into his body preparing for his orgasm.
But the way he was glued to your pelvis and every grind down into you sent glorious sparkles down your spine that spread over your pussy as he was smushed against your clit.
The moment you felt your orgasm start to unfold and burst your vision went black as your heart pounded and your pussy gushed around him.
When Harry felt you squeezing him tight with a spasming pussy and he knew you were coming he coughed out a moan as he allowed himself to pound into you, finally punching through your walls the way he wanted as he fucked you through your release. Long, slick, aching strokes with skin wetly slapping, your bed rocking with each strong thrust, until Harry’s gasps of pleasure finally poured out of his lungs as he came inside of you. Inside of his sweet flower.
He pumped and throbbed as he pressed in deep, stilling his hips against yours with his heart pounding wildly. It was heaven. Bliss. He knew it would be.
Your body was limp under his as you began to come down and you felt him thick and pulsating inside of you as he drained himself into your womb just like you wanted. The grip he had on your hand ached but you loved it as he used your pussy for his pleasure. Deep whimpers fell from his chest.
Everything swirled and sparkled and twisted around you in some divine kaleidoscope. His dark words spoken into your ear, “You’re mine now, flower,” had you smiling and humming in delight. It was all you wanted. He was all you needed.
. . .
You woke up to your phone alarm sounding next to you on the bed. The tiniest bit of light was peeking through your curtains as you sat up and found your phone to shut off the noise. You were in a daze as you looked around yourself and realized you were alone in your bed.
You pulled your brows together and looked around your room. Your clothes were on the floor and memories of the night before began to flood your mind. Harry. Where was Harry?
Throwing the blankets off your naked body you looked down over yourself and felt that warm flush of excitement crawl over your skin at the thought of what had happened. You slid on your t-shirt and walked into your hallway, “Harry?” You called his name but there was no response.
Your living room was left just as it had been the night before. Your front door was unlocked and the carton of half-eaten ice cream was sitting on your coffee table, all melted inside.
You shook your head as you peeked into your kitchen and then went into your bathroom, flicking on the light and there lying on your vanity was a flower. You picked it up as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Two big dark splotches on your neck told you that you weren’t going crazy. That something had happened last night.
Unless you’d done it to yourself somehow? You leaned in to look closer in the mirror as you ran your fingers over the skin on your throat and frowned. Maybe it had just all been a dream. It definitely felt like one.
You sighed as you stepped back and retraced the events of what you remember. But it was hard to recall the details exactly. You were so gone for Harry, your co-worker, and he’d been so aggressive yet so soft at the same time.
Perhaps it had just been a dream. A wild dream that had you coming twice and begging for him to come inside of you.
You laughed as you ran your hands over your face and shook your head. Maybe you were going crazy. It didn’t explain the flower or the splotches on your neck but somehow, in the light of day, it all felt like nothing more than a fantasy. It made more sense that it would have just been a dream. What were the chances your hot co-worker had come to your house in the middle of the night and fucked you so good you were ready to marry him and give him babies? No, that wasn’t real. Because that wasn’t you.
You looked back at yourself in the mirror with a grin. The only thing you knew for certain at that moment was that you’d never think about Harry the same way again.
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forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
pt 2 -> control
two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite.
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.
and then there was a knock at the door.
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes fluff#marvel#sargeant barnes#sargeant bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes hurt/comfort#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes whump#bucky x fem!reader#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#bucky x y/n#winter soldier#marvel au#bucky barnes au#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky x reader#mob!bucky fanfic
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Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 03
Eyeless Jack x Female Reader - Mirror/Overstimulation
SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI
TW: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, mirror sex, oral, desperation, pleasing, body positivity, controlled orgasm, embarrassment, body image issues, fluffy smut
Tag: #rainykinktober2024
Words: 2.8k
Jack found it so irritating how you pleaded with him to turn the lights off every time he slept with you.
At first, he thought it was an insult, a secret disgust you had for him that you were too scared to admit. But, that couldn’t be right.
You were kissy and loving all other times, unafraid to express your desire for the demon or hold back from complimenting everything he did. It just didn’t make sense why when he began to make love to you, suddenly all of that confidence and fluffiness washed away. Hiding your face in the pillows, wrapping your arms over your tummy, or even lightly panicking when he cooed you to get on top.
Until he thought about it, really thought about it.
It took time, but he began to catch the way you tugged your leggings a little higher on your stomach or adjusted your shirt so it was baggier in the front. He didn’t miss how you preferred your clothes a little baggier, opting for his instead. You sucked in when he held you, stood up straighter when he talked to you. It took time, but slowly all the pieces were connecting, all of the little tale-tell signs that you so meticulously hid.
To anyone else, it would seem normal. Maybe you just liked bigger clothes, or you just liked to wear his instead.
But Jack knew. And he wasn’t going to let you dig yourself deeper.
“Hi, beautiful.”
Jack stepped behind you, leaning over to peck a kiss atop your head. You smiled up at him, stalling your work at the kitchen counter to hike up onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips. His claws reached around your waist, pulling you back against him.
“Hi.”
“I have a surprise for you… See you later tonight…?”
He didn’t miss the little embarrassed excitement that tinted on your cheeks, your small smile nodding to him as you resumed whatever food you were making. The demon left you with another kiss, stepping away with a grin.
You wouldn’t know, but he was setting up your ‘surprise’ in your room. He took the full-length mirror from your closet, hooked it off of the hinges, and placed it on the wall opposite your bed. He made sure it was angled right, sitting on the edge of the bed to ensure you would get a good view.
You needed this more than he did, but that didn’t make him any less excited.
Night eventually fell, the quiet stir of your house looming as you stepped out of the shower down the hall. Jack was already perched at your doorframe, one shoulder hunched on the plaster as you stepped from the steaming bathroom, towel tucked neatly around your frame.
Fresh from the shower, you smelled so delicious. Little fruity savory scents wafted around you as Jack breathed deep, chills running up his back. He couldn’t wait.
He didn’t miss the little flush in your cheeks or the way you smiled sweetly when he reached a hand out, your small one clasping right in his palm. He also didn’t miss how you tugged the towel up a little higher to cover your underarms, glancing down to give yourself a once-over before following him. He was more than tired of your overthinking brain.
You gasped lightly when you stepped into your warm bedroom, candles and tiny tea lights lit up across any surface the demon could place them. You looked around in awe, eyes bright and twinkling from the fire glow, Jack’s claw tugging you further inside. Now you wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off…
“Jack… What is this for…?” You smiled, pushing your wet hair back from your face as Jack closed the door. Glancing to your bed, you noticed the water bottle and tiny assortment of Advil, all things that you typically needed after a night with the demon.
But, you also didn’t miss the mirror from your closet repositioned in front of your bed, glancing at your reflection sourly.
“Why did you move my mirror?”
“Suprise…” Jack cooed, stepping in to press behind you, his claws wrapping around to the front of your stomach. It had always impressed you just how much taller the demon was compared to you, but looking at it now, he seemed huge.
You stood in front of the glass, staring at Jack’s reflection with knitted brows, his lips coming down to kiss behind your ear. You shivered, his breath so warm against your damp skin, leaning back into his touch.
“What do you mean, surprise?”
The demon chuckled, hooking his fingers into the towel and slowly opening it, your eyes flashing down to yourself as you watched nervously.
“Wait…” You groaned.
Your legs instinctively clenched when your bare body showed itself, large claws tugging the towel from your sides and tossing it somewhere unknown. The warm candleglow bounced off your skin, deep oranges and yellows showing every freckle and indent as Jack found his way back to your neck.
You cringed, staring only at Jack’s face pressed close to yours instead of looking at yourself, disgust slowly creeping in and ruining your mood. He felt the way you tensed against him, a deep groan against your neck as he lifted off.
“Can we not with the mirror?” You mumbled, keeping your eyes solely focused on him instead of where he wanted you to look, at your beautiful body. He shook his head, pulling you back until you sat on the edge of your bed, Jack circling to your front. “This is exactly why we need it, I think.”
You’re confused, crossing one leg over the other as Jack kneels himself in front of you, his large frame putting him at eye level with your chest. You immediately edge back, shaking your head slowly.
“I know what this is…”
Jack is wrapping his claws around your ankles before you can get any further, pulling your body to the edge again and making you sit up straight. He didn’t care as you whined your unwillingness for his idea, pushing himself between your knees and pulling your claves to lock onto his sides.
One claw wraps around your jaw, tugging your face down to face him directly as you huff, silently pleading with him. He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a moment to recuperate before he sat back again.
“You, my pet, are the most intoxicatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I find it insulting you think something I find attractive is ugly.” His words are overlapped with kisses down your neck, his claws resting eagerly on your hips as he pecks downwards, breathing deep into your neck.
Your arousal floods his senses, the silent excitement he can almost taste as he kisses your chest so sweet and hungry. Your breathing catches as he palms your tit, massaging the mound slowly until you’re arching your back into his touch.
“Every time I see you, I can barely hold myself back from kissing every square inch of your skin.” His lips dip lower, kissing between your tits and down to the top of your stomach. A quiet whine slips through when he finally makes it to the softness of your tummy, kissing across your warm skin and nipping gently with his teeth. Oh, how he would love to have just a bite, just a taste of your sweetness underneath.
You were shuddering the lower he got, little wet spots from his lips trailing to the tops of your thighs, your eyes never leaving him for a second.
He loves your pliability when you lean back on your hands, his claws hooking under your knees to push your thighs open further, the sweet scent of your arousal making him lightheaded. Your heavy eyes watched as he nipped the inside of your legs, kissing the soft skin as close as he could get to your pretty cunt before you were gasping.
He leaned back, much to your disappointment, but held your gaze, the deep sockets boring into you. You were nervous, body twitchy and shifting awkwardly to avoid glancing up to the mirror.
Sleeping with the demon was heavenly, his body and words coiling you up just right. But, you could never get over the roadblock that was your appearance.
Jack made it so evidently clear how pretty you were, complimenting you every chance he got and going the extra mile to make you feel special. That didn’t stop you from cringing at the way your stomach rolled when you moved, or how your legs took up so much space when you sat down. There was no telling how a man so lean and strong found someone like you so addicting.
He was about to show you, though.
“I want you to look at yourself.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him, but the look on his face was serious.
Huffing, you looked up into the mirror across from you, the warm-toned room lighting your reflection and showing you leaned back on the edge of the bed and Jack’s large frame kneeled neatly between your spread legs.
Quickly, you glanced back down, Jack’s face still one of seriousness at the gentle scowl you held.
He leaned in slowly, pushing his face back between the plushness of your thighs and pushing your knees further apart. You let your lips part, upper body leaning back further in preparation for him.
Until he stopped. Just mere inches from your whiny cunt, his hot breath making your body run with chills. You waited, body heavy and eager, but slowly tensing with confusion when he didn’t press any further than that.
“Uh, Jack?”
He tilted his head up, eyelids low on his empty sockets as he peered into yours.
“I said I want you to look at yourself. Look away, and I’ll stop.” He grinned coyly, jagged teeth gleaming in the candlelight as he leaned in again, this time kissing against the lips of your expectant cunt.
Your jaw still hung loose as you nervously sat up a little more, eyes tense to glance up at yourself as you felt a thick, warm tongue glide smoothly between the wetness of your folds. Your eyes finally met your reflection, giving one quick glance down to see that Jack was peering up at your face, watching carefully.
You huffed, staring back at yourself and gasping as your cheeks grew a darker shade of pink, freckles and dimples bright on your face. You could barely hold yourself from watching his back muscles flex and contort as he holds your legs, a quiet grumble making you refocus.
“Hnn…” Jack let his lips pucker against your puffy folds, tongue gliding through the slickness and rounding at your clit. The long muscle lapped at the taste of your cunt, pulling deep groans and whines from the both of you.
Even though working you, Jack watched on, carefully holding your gaze to make sure you never looked away from your beautiful face. You were jittery, muscles tensing and legs nearly shaking as you tried so hard to obey him. It all just became a little too much when he finally pushed the thickness of his tongue past your entrance.
“Oh, hah- Fuck-” Your eyes flickered back and forth, trying so hard to hold your own gaze but getting caught in the view of his tongue slowly pushing into you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, fingers grabbing the sheets a little tighter as Jack huffed.
You were ready for that sweet feeling of fullness, of his long tongue craning inside and rubbing all the right places. But, when he slowly began to retract the muscle, pulling his head back from the center of your legs, you nearly cried.
“Jack, please-” He just watched on, staring at you with disinterest.
“Keep your eyes on the mirror.”
You took the hint, forcing your glance back to your flushed face, heavy eyes and droplets of water from your shower gleaming in the candlelight. Jack resumed, pushing his face back quickly and letting his tongue slick back into your excited entrance again.
But, when you felt another tongue slip from his lips, you gasped, shoulders tensing as you willed yourself not to look down.
Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Jack could reach. You hissed, back arching into the feeling as your hands fisted the sheets.
It was so embarrassing to see your face involuntarily strain and tense at every heavenly feeling, your eyes flutter or lips part with the loud noises of Jack lapping away at your pussy. And you couldn’t even watch him do it.
Your body was wrecked with pleasure, Jack using all of his devices to pull desperate moans and cries from your lips as he pushed his tongue deeper, the other flicking against your whiny clit.
“Look how good you look falling apart, little thing…” He grumbles against your wetness, muscle curling and soaking up all of your arousal. Your hips angle, trying so desperately to ride on his hungry tongue.
Your face is wrecked, body alike as you let your hands leave the bedsheets and curl around his head, fisting your fingers into his hair. The demon growls, letting his third tongue push through his lips and rummage against you, poking and pushing to try and fit inside your entrance.
“Jack- Jack- Ahn- Yea-” You pull against his hair, making sure you keep your eyes solely on your reflection, the gradual build of your orgasm tingling in your gut. Jack can taste it, can smell it as he finally gets a second tongue past that tight ring of muscle.
You cry out, eyes shutting only for a second, but quickly flicking back open. You would rather die than let Jack see you weren’t looking at yourself, wanting nothing more than to keep his tongues at the pace they were at. You’d look at yourself the rest of your life if it meant you felt like this.
“P-please ah- oh-” You squirm.
The demon is practically fucking you open with the warm muscles, the stretch and push against your walls so delicious and overwhelming, but all you can do is claw for more.
“Tell me how… hah- How beautiful you are…” He slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later, but you comply. You’re embarrassed, desperate, and desire clinging to your every word.
“I’m… I’m beautiful…hnn-”
“Pretty…”
“I’m pretty-”
“Perfect…”
“Fuck… I- ah- I’m perfect…”
Your face is flushed with desperation, watching your every muscle contort until you finally feel like you can look at yourself without cringing, mind too busy trying to push your orgasm out.
Finally satisfied, Jack lets go of your thighs, the limbs instantly clinging around the side of his head and squeezing. He groans, pushing your body back flat against your bed and completely ravaging your cunt.
You finally get the chance to look down, his own face flushed and disheveled as his tongues curl and tug your orgasm through, body convulsing and writhing under him.
“Jack-!” You’re cumming, hard, eyes rolling back into your eyelids as you grip his hair tight, the sweet relief of waves of pleasure gripping your every movement. Your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. He doesn’t let up though, drinking up all your cunt spills on his tongues, deep groans and heaves of breath flooding your senses.
When you finally begin to hiss, sensitivity gripping, he tugs his tongues out, letting your body relax.
His mouth is soaked, a claw coming to wipe away the saliva and arousal from his chin as he pulls you up. Kisses are quickly littered across your skin, hands massaging deeply across your lower back.
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” He whispers, pushing up to kiss across your face, your flushed skin hot under his lips. You’re still embarrassed, still reluctant to look up at yourself in the mirror, but you do it anyway.
Your body is disheveled, cunt still flashing with arousal, but the view in the mirror is a lot more tolerable, a lot more pretty than you remember it being.
Jack smiles as you watch yourself, tugging you back closer as he retakes his position, pushing your legs open.
It doesn’t take him coaxing for you to look at yourself when his tongues slide between your dripping cunt again, a wilted moan as he pushes back in again.
If he could love you and your body so much, maybe you could learn to, too.
Thank you for reading!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹
Thanks to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!
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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.
idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k
content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉
> in which masterlist!
note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3
—
“jungkook, baby?”
your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.
“babe?”
you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.
him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.
and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.
but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.
you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.
the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.
he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?
agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.
maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.
whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.
in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.
you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.
jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.
clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.
but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.
your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.
not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.
you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.
the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.
you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.
anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.
—
jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.
when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.
night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.
“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.
the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.
“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.
his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.
“are you crying?!”
your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.
“baby!”
he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”
“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”
this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.
“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”
his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.
you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.
“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”
from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.
“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”
now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.
but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.
“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.
he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.
“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”
“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.
he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”
fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.
“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.
the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.
“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”
“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”
“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”
you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.
“____!”
and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.
“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”
you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.
“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”
you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”
“are you sure?”
he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.
“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”
“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”
“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”
“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.
“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.
and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.
“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”
“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”
“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”
he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.
“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.
he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.
and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.
“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”
if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.
however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.
“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”
jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.
may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.
“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”
he winces guiltily.
“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”
“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.
he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.
“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”
unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.
—
“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.
“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.
you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.
of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.
“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.
“rice,” he demands as he chews.
you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.
“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.
witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.
“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.
“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.
“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”
but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.
“i just told you to eat first!”
you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”
he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.
“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”
he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.
—
you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.
with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.
and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.
and it was cold. it was always cold.
“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”
“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”
“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”
“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”
“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”
your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.
a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.
your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.
oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.
“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.
the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.
“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.
the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.
he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.
“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”
you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.
you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.
you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.
“are you spiderman?”
he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”
you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”
he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”
“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“
“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”
your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.
“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”
you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.
“uh?! i’m serious over here!”
this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.
“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”
he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.
“i’ll go with you,”
“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”
“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.
“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”
“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”
that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.
“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”
“this is very normal,” he argues.
the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.
“some would even say romantic.”
a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.
you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.
you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.
—
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#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook one shot#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook smut
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ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU — toji fushiguro x female reader [oneshot]
summary: you’re a single mom with a schedule that leaves little room for anything but work and longing. twice a week, you get to hold your daughter close, pouring all your love into moments that always feel too short. across the hallway, there’s toji — a single dad who watches from a distance, arms crossed, jaw tight, as he wonders how you juggle work and parenting and still manage to make your kid so happy. at first, he’s envious. envious of your composure, your warmth, the way your daughter looks at you like you’re her whole world. but slowly, that envy shifts. what happens when two broken hearts start to lean on each other, finding strength in the spaces they thought would stay empty? can you let someone in without fear of breaking again? can he?
content warnings: fluff, slight angst with comfort. strangers to friends to lovers. slow burn. single parent/divorced (female) reader. single parent toji. reader has a girl [aged 8-9] no name specified, megumi is the same age as well. reader has a toxic/manipulative ex husband. happy ending. lot of feels. very personally penned </3 mentions of other characters: nanami, yuuji, nobara, gojo & sukuna
read on ao3!
toji didn’t usually care much about other people’s business, but you? you were impossible to ignore.
it wasn’t just because your door slammed too loud when your kid came running out, or because you always seemed to be lugging some heavy-ass groceries up the stairs with that determined scowl of yours. it was how you did it all like some damn perfectionist.
toji hated it.
hated the way it made him feel like he should be trying harder too, especially when his kid, megumi, was busy leaving trails of destruction like a little tornado.
“megumi, stop throwing the damn ball against the wall!” he bellowed one evening, slumping further into his couch. the kid ignored him, of course.
then, as if the universe hated him, your door creaked open, and there you were, strolling into the hallway like you had nothing better to do. arms crossed, brows raised, you peered down at him with that no-nonsense air of yours.
“maybe he’s bored?” you suggested, leaning casually against your doorframe.
toji snorted. “maybe he’s just an asshole.”
your face scrunched in disapproval, the kind he’d seen a million times from the PTA moms who used to glare at him when he showed up late to pick up megumi. but you didn’t launch into a lecture like he expected. instead, you glanced at megumi, who had paused mid-throw to stare at you, and crouched down to his level.
“hey, buddy,” you said, voice softening in a way that made toji’s stomach twist. “why don’t you try aiming for that spot over there?” you pointed to a section of the wall that wouldn’t drive everyone insane. megumi actually listened, and toji couldn’t decide if he was impressed or pissed off.
“what, you think you’re some kind of kid whisperer?” he muttered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.
you stood, brushing off your knees, and looked him dead in the eye. “no, but i know how to talk to them.”
toji scowled. “yeah, must be nice, being born with that magic ‘mom gene.’”
you blinked, then burst out laughing, and for some reason, that annoyed him even more.
“mom gene? toji, i only have my kid on weekends. the rest of the time, it’s just me and a bottle of wine trying not to lose my mind.”
he frowned, caught off guard. “wait, what?”
“yeah, divorce does that to you.” your voice was breezy, but your eyes flickered with something darker for a split second. “not that it’s any of your business.”
toji chewed on that revelation, something prickling at the edges of his brain. you weren’t some perfect supermom after all. you were just...getting by, same as him.
the realization didn’t sit well — it made you seem less annoying and more...real. vulnerable, even.
“huh,” he grunted, looking away, suddenly too aware of how quiet the hallway had gotten. megumi was still tossing the ball, but it was softer now, more controlled. “guess you’re not as put together as you seem.”
“and you’re not as big of a jerk as you seem,” you shot back, giving him a pointed look before retreating to your apartment.
toji stared after you, jaw tight, until the door clicked shut. something about you made him itch, made him feel like he needed to either punch a wall or figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about how you smiled at his kid.
damn it.
toji sat at the edge of his couch, one hand wrapped around a cold beer and the other flipping through a stack of bills. the TV was on, low volume, playing some mindless sports recap he wasn’t even watching. megumi was somewhere in his room, the faint clatter of toys filtering down the hall. the kid had been sulking since this morning, muttering about how “nobody does anything fun.”
he grunted, rubbing a hand down his face. it wasn’t like he didn’t want to take the kid out, but hell, it was hard enough keeping the lights on. trips to the park felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford — time or energy.
and then he heard it. your laugh, loud and unapologetic, echoing in the hallway like it owned the place. toji tilted his head back against the couch, scowling at the ceiling as if that would make the sound go away. it didn’t. instead, it was followed by the high-pitched giggle of your kid, shrieking with joy as the two of you stomped down the stairs.
“hold on, mama needs her shoes!” your voice floated up through the doorframe, playful but firm.
“hurry! we’re gonna miss the swings!” your daughter yelled back, her excitement enough to make toji wince. he could practically see the image of you two — hand in hand, all smiles, making your way to the park like you didn’t have a care in the world.
his jaw tightened. perfect. just another reminder of how much he sucked at this parenting thing.
he took a long swig of his beer and stared at the stack of bills like it was their fault he couldn’t be the kind of dad who made his kid laugh like that. no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just...be you. he didn’t know how to make life look that easy.
“megumi,” he called, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.
there was a pause, the kind that made him think the kid wasn’t going to answer, before a small, reluctant “yeah?” drifted back.
toji sighed, setting the beer down. “you wanna...go outside or somethin’?”
another pause. then: “what for?”
the response hit harder than he cared to admit. what for? shouldn’t his kid want to? shouldn’t he be the one excited to spend time with his old man? but megumi sounded skeptical, like he’d already decided it wouldn’t be fun.
“never mind,” toji muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “forget it.”
the sound of the door to megumi’s room clicking shut made toji’s shoulders sag further.
outside, your laughter faded, replaced by the echo of your footsteps retreating into the distance. he leaned back on the couch, staring at the flickering TV screen, feeling something in his chest tighten and pull.
toji didn’t know when exactly it had started bothering him — this stupid, begrudging little alliance the two of you had. you’d come over when megumi refused his medicine, talking to the kid with that low, steady voice of yours until he opened his mouth like it was no big deal. and toji would come over when your sink started leaking, muttering under his breath the whole time about how you should’ve called a damn plumber.
but this? this was different. it wasn’t about fixing a sink or calming a tantrum. it was about the fact that you always seemed to do better — better at this whole parenting thing, better at making life fun, better at...everything.
and he hated that. hated how it made him feel like he was doing it all wrong.
maybe tomorrow would be different. maybe tomorrow he’d try harder. but for tonight, toji sat in the dim light of his living room, beer in hand, listening to the muffled sounds of megumi’s toys clattering in the other room, and let himself wonder — just for a second — what it’d be like to get it right.
your neighbors thought you had it all figured out — the strict yet cool mom who always had her shit together. you weren’t the one scrambling for groceries or apologizing to the pharmacist because you forgot to refill a prescription. no, your pantry was always stocked, the fridge had every snack your daughter loved, and there was always a pack of pads tucked in the bathroom cabinet, just in case. because if there was one thing you were going to do, it was prepare. even if it was only for two days a week.
but those two days weren’t enough. not for you, anyway.
your daughter was happy, blissfully unaware of how unnatural this arrangement felt to you. she was too young to see what you saw, to feel the cracks in your chest every time sunday evening rolled around and your ex-husband came to pick her up. you watched her climb into the car without a second thought, giggling about whatever they had planned for the week ahead, and you stood on the curb with a smile that felt like it might crack your face in half.
because this wasn’t the norm. at least, it shouldn’t have been.
but she didn’t know that, and how could you tell her? how could you explain that the only reason the divorce had been so clean and quick was because you’d made sure it was? no yelling, no lawyers, no drawn-out battles over custody. you wanted it over before she could develop memories sharp enough to stick.
and it worked — she was happy. unbothered. as if this was just how life was supposed to be.
you hated it.
you hated it almost as much as you hated sitting alone in your too-quiet apartment for the other five days of the week, waiting. hoping. praying for something, anything, that would keep her with you longer.
sometimes, you’d stare at your phone, willing it to light up with a text from your ex. something like hey, last-minute work trip, can you take her this week? or she’s asking to stay with you, is that okay?
but those texts never came. and your little girl never asked. she loved you, you knew that, but she didn’t need you in the way you wished she did. not yet.
not like you needed her.
so, you waited. and in the waiting, you heard everything else.
the muffled shouts of toji and his kid through the walls. the occasional crash of what was probably a wrestling match in their living room. the bark of laughter when megumi said something funny. the kind of noise that used to fill your own apartment, before the silence settled in like an unwelcome guest.
you missed that noise. you missed the mess of it, the chaos, the constant reminder that there was life happening right in front of you.
some nights, you’d hear megumi’s voice drift into the hallway, arguing with his dad about bedtime, and you’d feel a pang in your chest so sharp it made you suck in a breath. you didn’t even know what you were hoping for anymore — a reason to knock on toji’s door? an excuse to borrow sugar or offer some unsolicited parenting advice? maybe it was just the idea of not being alone that called to you, the longing for that noise to become a permanent fixture in your home.
but the door stayed closed, and you stayed on your side, waiting.
thanksgiving wasn’t something you cared much for anymore. your daughter was off with your ex, being doted on by her grandparents, and you were left standing in the middle of your apartment wondering what the hell you were supposed to do with yourself. the thought of spending the day bouncing from bar to bar, pretending like you didn’t care that you were alone, felt more pathetic than liberating.
you had just grabbed your coat, keys jangling in hand, when the knock came. not a gentle knock, either — a heavy, impatient pounding. opening the door, you found megumi standing there, arms crossed and wearing a scowl that was all too familiar.
“you need to come help my dad,” he said bluntly.
you blinked. “uh, what?”
“the turkey,” he clarified, rolling his eyes like you should’ve already known. “he’s gonna burn it. again.”
you almost said no. you really did. it wasn’t your problem if toji fushiguro couldn’t figure out how to roast a turkey. but then megumi fixed you with a look — stubborn, determined, his little fists clenching at his sides — and you saw your daughter in him. that same unyielding resolve she’d inherited from you.
before you could stop yourself, you sighed and grabbed your shoes.
“fine,” you muttered. “but only because i don’t wanna smell burnt turkey through the walls for the next week.”
megumi led the way, not bothering to wait for you to catch up, and by the time you stepped into toji’s apartment, the chaos was already underway. toji was in the kitchen, glaring at the bird like it had personally insulted him, sleeves rolled up and hair a mess. megumi darted off to the living room, immediately digging through his toys, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“you planning to just stand there, or are you gonna help?” toji barked without looking up.
“oh, i’m sorry,” you shot back, shrugging off your coat and stepping into the kitchen. “i didn’t realize i was signing up to save thanksgiving.”
“yeah, yeah, just don’t touch the knives,” he grumbled, handing you a bowl of stuffing. “last thing i need is you slicing a finger off.”
“cute,” you deadpanned, elbowing him out of the way to check the turkey. “you’re supposed to baste it, you know. not drown it in oil.”
toji huffed but stepped aside, muttering something under his breath about know-it-alls. for the next hour, the two of you worked in tandem — him grumbling every time you corrected him, you rolling your eyes every time he ignored your advice only to realize you were right. it was messy and loud, and megumi kept wandering into the kitchen to ask if he could “decorate the turkey” with his action figures.
“no,” you and toji said in unison, making megumi pout and stomp back to his toys.
you hated to admit it, but it felt...nice. domestic, even. like the kind of thanksgiving you used to dream about before everything fell apart.
when the turkey was finally done, golden and steaming, toji leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “well, guess that’s not a total disaster,” he said, nodding toward the bird.
“you’re welcome,” you replied, smirking.
toji glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then, in a tone that was almost shy — almost — he added, “you, uh...you should stay. for dinner, i mean. since you helped.”
you hesitated, the instinct to say no already on your tongue. but then megumi poked his head around the corner, grinning as he asked if it was time to eat yet, and something in your chest softened.
“yeah,” you said, surprising even yourself. “yeah, i guess i could stay.”
for once, you didn’t worry about whether it was selfish to want this — to sit at a table with someone else’s kid, someone else’s dad, and pretend, just for a little while, that it was your own family.
you barely had time to put your keys down when your daughter bolted out the door, still wearing her ballet costume — tutu, tights, and all.
“where are you going?” you called after her, already regretting the question as you hurried to follow.
by the time you reached the hallway, she was standing in front of megumi, who looked as though he had just rolled out of bed. his hair stuck up in every direction, and he was clutching a carton of milk he’d clearly just retrieved from the grocery bag hanging outside his door. the poor kid froze like a deer caught in headlights as your daughter crossed her arms and declared, “you’re the same height as me. you have to practice with me.”
megumi blinked at her, then at you, then back at her. “what?”
“pirouettes,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing to her little satin shoes. “you just have to stand there and twirl, like this.” she spun in place, her tutu flaring out as she executed a clumsy turn.
“uh...” megumi glanced at the milk in his hand, clearly weighing his options. then, with a defeated grumble that sounded eerily like his dad, he said, “fine. but only for five minutes.”
you were about to step in, to scold her for bothering someone she didn’t know, but then megumi set the milk down and mimicked her spin, his movements stiff and awkward but surprisingly cooperative. the sight of the two of them twirling in the hallway — her with all the determination of a drill sergeant, him with the resigned patience of a kid who had long since accepted the absurdity of his life — made you pause.
“no, no, your arm’s supposed to go here,” she corrected, pulling his hand up into what you assumed was a ballet pose. megumi didn’t protest, just followed her instructions with a tiny scowl on his face.
you leaned against the doorframe, half-amused, half-stunned. the hallway was hardly the place for this — the flickering overhead light and slightly dingy carpet hardly screamed “dance studio” — but neither of them seemed to care. they were kids, after all. they didn’t need permission or a proper setting to make something fun out of nothing.
toji’s door creaked open, and he stepped out, rubbing the back of his neck. his eyes landed on the two kids, and his brows shot up. “what the hell’s goin’ on here?”
you smirked. “your kid’s being recruited as a dance partner.”
toji snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “looks like he’s takin’ it seriously.”
“he’s a good sport,” you admitted, watching as your daughter adjusted megumi’s stance like a tiny ballet instructor.
“yeah, well, don’t let him hear you say that. he’s already got enough of an attitude,” toji muttered, though there was a trace of pride in his voice.
you laughed softly, watching as the two kids twirled down the hallway like it was the most natural thing in the world. for a moment, you felt that familiar pang in your chest — the one that came from watching your daughter interact with someone so freely, so innocently. it reminded you of something you’d almost forgotten: kids didn’t care about the social rules adults imposed on them. they didn’t worry about boundaries or appearances. they just...were.
and maybe, just maybe, you could learn something from that.
you had rules. hard, fast rules you swore by, especially when it came to relationships. your daughter was your priority, and anything — or anyone — that complicated the fragile arrangement of custody and weekend visits was a hard no.
you’d learned that the hard way.
it was supposed to be just another date. nothing serious, nothing special. just someone you’d met through a friend of a friend, someone who seemed decent enough at first glance.
but “decent enough” didn’t cut it when he started poking around your home like it was his, asking invasive questions about your parenting and making himself far too comfortable in the space you shared with your daughter.
the final straw came when your girl, barely out of her toddler years, tugged on your sleeve and whispered, “i don’t like him.”
you snapped. you didn’t care about niceties or keeping things civil. your voice was sharp and unrelenting as you told him to leave, not sparing a second thought for his protests or excuses. when he didn’t take the hint, standing there like he had every right to argue with you in your own home, the commotion must have reached the hallway because toji showed up.
he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his eyes hard and unwavering. “you heard her,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that could slice through steel. “get the hell out.”
the man hesitated, glancing between you and toji, before finally storming out with a string of muttered curses. the door slammed behind him, and you exhaled, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your anger.
toji didn’t say anything, just gave you a curt nod before disappearing back into his apartment. but his presence lingered, a silent reminder that someone else got it. someone else understood that when it came to your kids, there were no compromises. if they didn’t like someone, that was the end of it. no debate, no second chances.
because the truth was, kids had a steadfast sense of people. they could see what adults often ignored or rationalized away. and if your little girl didn’t like someone, then that was reason enough to show them the door.
it wasn’t about being strict or overprotective. it was about being selfless in the way only a parent could be — putting your child’s comfort and safety above your own needs, no matter how lonely or frustrating it could be.
and as much as you hated that night, as much as it left you raw and questioning your own choices, it also reaffirmed something you already knew: your girl came first. always.
toji didn’t see the point of relationships. not when all he needed was a night of sex and no strings attached. a quick call, a casual meet-up, and back to their place or the backseat of his car — it was simple, clean, and didn’t involve his son.
rules were rules. no bringing anyone home, ever. it wasn’t just about protecting megumi’s innocence; it was about maintaining some semblance of order in the chaos of their lives.
megumi wasn’t clueless, though. he’d catch on when his dad had a “special lady friend,” his young mind putting two and two together. but he never lingered on it — he was too preoccupied with his toys or his own little world to ask questions. still, toji made it a point to keep those two parts of his life separate. or at least, he tried to.
then there was that night. the one he wished he could erase entirely.
it started with a hookup — someone he barely knew, someone who got a flat tire on the way to meet him. she called him in a panic, and toji, feeling half-responsible, told her to wait downstairs while he scrounged up some cash to help her out. it was supposed to be quick, a simple transaction before he sent her on her way.
but when he opened his apartment door to check on megumi, there she was, standing in the hallway, looking between him and his son like she’d just uncovered some dirty secret.
“seriously?” she snapped, her voice rising. “you have a kid, and you didn’t tell me? what kinda man are you?”
toji froze, his jaw tightening. “it’s not like that,” he started, already regretting everything about this situation. “he’s my son, yeah, but —”
“oh my god,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with something he couldn’t quite place.
“you’re a single dad? that’s so...hot. like, wow, you’re doing all this on your own? it’s inspiring.”
toji stared at her, horrified. was this some kind of joke? how the hell did she jump from being pissed to romanticizing his life? did she think being a single parent was some kind of aesthetic?
before he could say anything, you appeared from your apartment, drawn out by the commotion. one look at the scene and you put the pieces together — the woman’s flirtatious tone, toji’s visible irritation, megumi standing awkwardly behind his dad.
“are you serious right now?” you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “do you even hear yourself? you don’t just barge into someone’s home and start fantasizing about their struggles like it’s some rom-com plot.”
the woman blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t stop. “being a single parent isn’t some cute little quirk, okay? it’s hard work. it’s messy and exhausting, and you don’t get to stand there and act like it’s sexy or whatever weird thing you’re doing right now. you’re embarrassing yourself.”
toji folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you with something close to amusement. “yeah,” he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “what she said.”
the woman huffed, muttered something about how she “didn’t mean it like that,” and stormed off, leaving behind a cloud of awkward silence.
you turned to toji, your arms crossed. “seriously, fushiguro? what the hell was that?”
“don’t look at me,” he grunted. “i told her to wait downstairs. didn’t think she’d take it as an invitation to meet my kid.”
“well, maybe next time, screen your hookups better,” you shot back before glancing at megumi. “you okay, honey?”
megumi shrugged, holding his pillow like it was a shield. “she was weird.”
toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “tell me about it.”
as you headed back to your apartment, you muttered loud enough for him to hear, “unbelievable.”
toji couldn’t argue with that.
pta meetings were never on your radar — your ex had made sure of that. "you don’t need to stress about these things," he’d said, his tone dismissive, as if your role as a parent didn’t extend to showing up for your own kid. but the moment he insisted one too many times, you knew it was less about easing your workload and more about him basking in the spotlight of being the ever-dedicated single dad.
you weren’t having it anymore.
so, there you were, shuffling awkwardly through the school halls, feeling like a stranger in your own child’s life. asking for directions to the third-grade pta made you feel ridiculous, but not nearly as much as the sight that greeted you when you finally found the room.
your daughter sat next to her father, the picture of poise and politeness. her hands folded neatly in her lap, her back straight, nodding along as if she’d been practicing for a commercial. for a moment, you wondered if you’d walked into the wrong classroom.
but then her eyes flicked to the door, and the facade crumbled. she leaped out of her chair, her tiny legs carrying her toward you as she yelled, “mama!” loud enough to turn heads. the force of her hug nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t care. this — her joy, her excitement — was worth every awkward second of wandering the school halls.
your ex, however, looked less than thrilled. his jaw tightened, his smile turned brittle, and you swore his ears went red.
“you’re not supposed to be here,” he hissed, his voice low but venomous. “we agreed —”
“you decided,” you cut him off, your voice calm but firm. “i have just as much right to be here as you do.”
your daughter, oblivious to the tension, looked up at both of you with wide, curious eyes. “but daddy said you don’t like school stuff,” she said, her little brow furrowed. “is that true?”
you knelt down, brushing a stray hair from her face. “of course not, sweetheart. i love being here for you. don’t ever think otherwise, okay?”
her face lit up again, but the moment was short-lived. your ex scoffed, muttering something under his breath about boundaries and making a scene. you felt the familiar heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck, the weight of the other parents’ stares pressing down on you.
and then, as if on cue, toji strolled in with megumi trailing behind him, looking as uninterested as ever.
toji’s eyes scanned the room, landing on the little drama unfolding between you and your ex. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “looks like i’m not the only one dreading this circus,” he drawled, loud enough for everyone to hear.
megumi, clutching a slightly crumpled report card, muttered, “dad, can we just sit down?”
toji ignored him, stepping closer to where you were standing. “need backup?” he asked, his tone teasing but with a glint of seriousness in his eyes.
your ex bristled, standing a little straighter. “this isn’t any of your business.”
“maybe not,” toji said, crossing his arms, “but if you’re gonna start a scene in front of your kid, might as well make it entertaining for the rest of us.”
you bit back a laugh, your shoulders relaxing for the first time since you’d walked into the room. your ex muttered something incoherent before storming back to his seat, clearly deciding he’d rather sulk than argue with toji.
“thanks,” you said quietly, glancing at him.
“don’t mention it,” he replied, waving a hand. “besides, i could use the distraction. these meetings are the worst.”
megumi sighed dramatically, dragging his dad toward the nearest empty seats. your daughter tugged on your hand, pulling you toward her spot. “sit next to me, mommy!” she insisted, her voice brimming with excitement.
and just like that, the weight of embarrassment lifted. maybe the pta wasn’t so dreadful after all.
stationery shopping ranked high on toji’s list of things he’d rather not do. it wasn’t just the hassle of navigating cramped aisles and overly enthusiastic sales clerks — it was the quiet longing he saw in megumi’s eyes. his kid had always been practical, never asking for much. a pencil and eraser were all he ever said he needed.
but toji wasn’t blind. he noticed the way megumi’s gaze lingered on superhero-themed pouches, colorful erasers, or fancy gel pens that clicked in three different colors.
today, however, megumi wasn’t eyeing superheroes. he stood rooted in front of the store’s most ridiculously pink setup — hello kitty galore. pink pouches, glittery pens, stickers with cartoon bows and sparkles. “what’re ya staring at, brat?” toji grumbled, leaning against the cart.
“nothing,” megumi mumbled, looking down at his sneakers.
toji raised a brow. “yeah, sure. ‘nothing’ has you glued there like a statue.”
“it’s for...her,” megumi muttered, barely loud enough to hear.
“her?” for a second, toji wondered if his kid had cooked up another imaginary friend. but then it clicked. “her” wasn’t imaginary — it was your daughter. ever since she had dragged megumi into practicing her ballet routine in the hallway, she’d been on his radar. toji had caught him talking about her in passing, dropping little comments about her sparkly shoes or how good she was at balancing on her toes.
toji scratched the back of his head, sighing. “alright, pick something out.”
megumi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “really?”
“yeah, really. just don’t make me regret it.”
a few minutes later, toji was standing in line with a glittery-pen set, the kind of thing he never thought he’d buy in his lifetime. at checkout, he stared at the receipt longer than necessary, grumbling about how overpriced stationery had gotten. still, he couldn’t shake the thought of megumi’s sheepish little smile when he picked out the pen set.
later that day, toji knocked on your door, the pen set in hand. when you opened it, he held the package out awkwardly. “here,” he said gruffly. “megs wanted to give this to your girl.”
you blinked in surprise, looking between him and the gift. “oh, uh, thank you. that’s sweet of him.”
“yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, already turning to leave.
“wait.” you disappeared into the apartment for a moment before coming back with a box in hand. “give this to megumi. my daughter won it in a raffle at school and insisted it was for him.”
toji frowned, taking the box. when he opened it, his jaw nearly dropped. inside was a limited-edition action figure of megumi’s favorite superhero, still in its pristine packaging. “seriously?” he asked, glancing up at you.
you shrugged, smiling. “she said he deserves it for helping her with ballet.”
when toji handed the box to megumi later, the boy’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “this is for me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.
“yep,” toji said, leaning against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. “from her.”
megumi cradled the box like it was made of glass, his face lighting up in a way toji hadn’t seen in a while. “she’s...cool,” he mumbled, his ears turning red.
toji snorted, ruffling his son’s hair. “yeah, kid. guess she is.”
it started with the clatter of plastic pots and pans echoing in the hallway. toji peeked out, ready to bark at whoever was making the ruckus, only to see your kid — a whirlwind in a frilly dress — dragging megumi out of the apartment by his wrist. toji frowned, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “what’s she up to now?” he muttered to himself.
your girl had plopped her miniature kitchen set right in the middle of the hallway, setting it up with an authority that would make a professional chef jealous. “okay, megumi,” she declared, hands on her hips. “we’re playing house-house.”
megumi shuffled awkwardly, glancing at the scattered pink cookware. “uh...i don’t know how to play,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
your daughter waved off his hesitation with a dramatic flourish. “it’s easy! you’re the dad, and i’m the mom, and we make dinner together.”
toji suppressed a snort. the dad, huh? poor kid.
but then megumi, shifting uncomfortably, mumbled, “what’s...a dad supposed to do?”
your daughter blinked at him, pausing her bustling activity. “you don’t know?”
he shook his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“well,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, “my dad doesn’t play house-house much. but it’s okay! we’ll just figure it out.”
toji’s chest tightened at her words, his grip on the doorframe unconsciously tightening. he didn’t think a kid’s game could hit so close to home, but there it was. she said it so simply, so innocently, like it was a fact of life. and megumi just nodded, kneeling down next to her and fumbling with a tiny plastic frying pan, like he was trying to make sense of a concept he couldn’t quite grasp.
when he glanced across the hall, he saw you standing there. you weren’t smiling. the look in your eyes was a mirror of his own — quiet, pained recognition. you knew. how could you not? this was your life too, wasn’t it? this strange, fragmented version of what a “home” was supposed to be.
and for once, toji didn’t have a quip or a grumble. he just stood there, watching his kid try to figure out what “playing house” meant, wondering if maybe the real problem wasn’t the game at all.
there were days when the weight of work pressed so heavily on your shoulders, you didn’t know if you’d make it to bedtime without breaking. days when you stared at your laptop screen, the relentless deadlines pounding in your head, and wondered if anyone cared enough to ask how you were holding up.
your daughter? what could you even tell an eight-year-old? that mamma’s work feels like it’s swallowing her whole? your ex? let’s not kid anyone — he didn’t give a damn.
so when you heard the faint knock on your door, you sighed, ready to dismiss whatever delivery or inconvenience had shown up at your doorstep. but it wasn’t a courier. it was megumi, standing there awkwardly, holding a casserole dish that looked far too heavy for him.
“uh, hi,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “my dad said you should eat this. and, um...are you okay?”
you blinked, caught completely off guard. “i — yeah, i’m fine. why are you —”
“dad said you looked ‘off.’” he shifted his weight, staring at the floor like the words were a script he was forced to read. “so he made food. and, uh...he said you should eat it. or something.”
you stared at the casserole, the steam fogging up the glass lid, before your gaze moved back to megumi. “your dad sent you?”
megumi nodded, still not looking up. “yeah. but also...uh, you shouldn’t be sad. ’cause my teacher says work is like a big test. and you can’t cry during tests.”
you let out a soft laugh despite yourself. “is that so?”
“yeah,” he said, more confidently now. “and also...you should have cookies after tests. or...or, like, cake. something sweet.”
you crouched down so you were eye level with him, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “thank you, megumi. you’re very thoughtful.”
he shrugged, his ears turning red. “it’s just what people do, right?”
“you’re absolutely right,” you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “tell your dad thank you for the food, okay?”
megumi nodded, suddenly eager to escape, and darted back toward his apartment. as you stood, watching him go, you caught a glimpse of toji leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, pretending like he wasn’t paying attention. your eyes met, and he gave a half-smirk, a silent acknowledgment that, yeah, he sent his kid over to do the emotional heavy lifting.
you didn’t know whether to laugh or roll your eyes, but as you brought the casserole inside and inhaled the warm, comforting aroma, you realized it didn’t matter. the gesture had worked.
and for the first time that day, you felt a little less alone.
toji leaned against the garbage chute, the crumpled bag dangling from his grip like the weight of his entire day had been stuffed inside it. his head was pounding, his nerves frayed, and the sheer mental load of keeping everything together made his chest feel tight.
just one drink, he thought. one drink to take the edge off.
but the thought of megumi catching even a whiff of whiskey on his breath, of being the kind of dad who needed an escape like that, stopped him cold.
that’s when you showed up, bag in hand, hair disheveled from a long day. you gave him a quick glance, your usual mixture of mild irritation and casual acknowledgment, before tossing your garbage into the chute.
“you look like hell,” you said bluntly, folding your arms.
“gee, thanks,” toji shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “needed that.”
you didn’t flinch. instead, you just leaned against the wall beside him, watching as he seemed to wrestle with something internally. you weren’t dumb — you could tell when someone was running on fumes.
“you ever feel like you’re drowning?” he asked suddenly, surprising even himself with the admission.
you blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “constantly,” you replied, your tone softer than usual. “but i’m guessing you mean with the whole...single parent thing.”
toji chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “ding, ding. i don’t know how you do it. you make it look...effortless.”
“effortless?” you raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at the absurdity. “you think i have it together? newsflash, toji: my kid’s with me two days a week. that’s not parenting perfection. that’s a weekend babysitting gig.”
“still,” he muttered. “you make those two days count. i see it. i hear it.”
you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “look, i don’t have all the answers. but what i’ve learned? you can’t do it all. not perfectly. no one can. and pretending you can is just setting yourself up to fail. so...cut yourself some slack. you’re not screwing up as bad as you think.”
he stared at you for a moment, the words sinking in like drops of water on parched earth. it wasn’t a grand revelation, but coming from you — iron mom of the year — it hit different.
“you really believe that?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.
you shrugged. “not always. but it’s what i tell myself when i feel like i’m about to lose it. sometimes it helps. sometimes it doesn’t. but it’s better than drinking yourself stupid.”
toji’s eyes flicked to you, his brow furrowing. “how’d you —”
“please,” you cut him off. “you think i don’t know that look? seen it in the mirror too many times.”
he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”
“so are you,” you countered, nudging his arm lightly. “whether you believe it or not. and whether you’ll admit it or not.”
he didn’t respond, just stood there for a moment, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. and as you turned to head back to your apartment, he found himself standing a little taller, the crushing weight of the day feeling just a little lighter.he still wouldn’t call it respect. but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate you as much as he thought.
your ex’s text had felt like a sucker punch, the kind that knocked the wind right out of you. you’d stared at the message for far too long, rereading his smug little declaration: “taking her on a trip she’ll never forget. don’t worry about the details.”
no invite for you, no mention of her asking for you — just a cruel reminder that he still had ways to hurt you. and for her birthday, of all things.
you spent the next two weeks in a fog. the silence in your apartment was deafening without her, no shrieks of laughter, no tiny footsteps running to show you her latest masterpiece. it felt like someone had pressed pause on your life, leaving you stuck in this unbearable limbo. every day you’d get up, go to work, and come home to the same aching emptiness. you even avoided the hallway, unwilling to face anyone — not even toji and megumi.
but then, one evening, as you were sorting through yet another pile of takeout containers, you heard a soft knock on your door. when you opened it, there stood megumi, clutching a piece of paper in his small hands. he shoved it toward you without a word, his face unreadable, before bolting back down the hall.
you closed the door, confused, and unfolded the note. it was written in uneven, colorful crayon strokes, the kind only a kid could produce:
dear y/n, pls come to my bithday party. we having cake and maybe pizza dad said okay i want you to come :) from megumi
your breath caught in your throat, and before you knew it, hot tears were streaming down your face. it was the kind of pure, innocent gesture that knocked down every wall you’d tried to build over the past two weeks. megumi didn’t know the weight of what he’d just done — how he’d given you a reason to get out of bed, to care about something again.
you clutched the note to your chest, letting out a shaky laugh through your tears. for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of warmth. maybe you couldn’t be there for your own daughter’s birthday this year, but for megumi? you’d show up.
and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t feel so alone.
toji swore he hadn’t stopped pacing since he woke up that morning.
megumi’s birthday.
the kid had been talking about it for weeks, dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints about what he wanted. toji had done his best — got the decorations, ordered the cake, and even splurged on superhero-themed plates and napkins. but standing in the middle of his living room, now transformed into a battlefield of action figure balloons and capes, he couldn’t help but feel like a superhero himself — one on the verge of a breakdown.
megumi had insisted on handling the invites, which in hindsight might’ve been a mistake. the first arrivals were fine enough: yuuji and nobara, two of megumi’s classmates. yuuji was all boundless energy and chaos, while nobara strutted in like she was already running the place. “where’s the cake?” she demanded, hands on her hips. toji grunted and pointed toward the kitchen.
then came the wild card. the bane of his existence.
“tooojjjji!” gojo’s voice echoed through the apartment, loud and grating as ever. “heard there’s a party! didn’t wanna miss out.” he waltzed in, sunglasses perched on his stupidly perfect nose, a massive gift bag in hand that screamed overcompensating. toji pinched the bridge of his nose. why me?
and then, you. you stepped in, looking a little hesitant, holding a neatly wrapped present in one hand. megumi practically lit up when he saw you, rushing over to tug you inside. “you came!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. toji froze for a moment, then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
“didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes.
“megumi invited me,” you said simply, smiling down at the boy. “couldn’t say no to the birthday boy, now could i?”
toji grunted in response, but deep down, he was relieved. somehow, having you there made the chaos of the day feel a little more manageable.
the party was... chaotic, to say the least. yuuji inhaled pizza like it was a sport and promptly threw up in the kitchen sink, much to nobara’s disgust. “ewwwww, you’re so groooossss!” she shrieked, dodging as yuuji stumbled past her. toji was already on the phone with yuuji’s older brother, sukuna, who arrived not long after, looking pissed as hell.
“i told him not to eat like a damn vacuum,” sukuna growled, hauling yuuji out the door.
megumi, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by any of it. he was too busy showing off his new action figures to your daughter, who somehow managed to make it to the party just a few hours before her flight. you and toji exchanged a glance — a silent acknowledgment that, despite the chaos, the kids were happy.
and somehow, so were you.
with your daughter off on her dad's two-and-a-half-week escapade, you found yourself with something rare and unsettling: free time. the emptiness of your apartment felt heavier without her laughter filling the corners, so you did what any sane, lonely adult would do — you forced yourself to go out. and somehow, somehow, you ended up on a date with nanami kento.
god, he was perfect. the kind of perfect that made your chest ache. polite, well-mannered, and respectful, with a quiet intensity that felt... safe. he opened doors, listened like you were the only person in the world, and didn’t even bat an eye when you cried mid-dessert about how surreal it felt to be treated so kindly. nanami kento was a unicorn in human form. you left the date with a full heart and a nervous little hope tucked away in the corner of your mind.
but with that came distance. maybe you didn’t mean to pull back from the chaotic warmth of your hallway interactions with megumi and toji, but it happened all the same. when megumi called out a soft “hi” as you passed him by the mailboxes, you offered a quick smile but kept walking. the sink had been dripping for days, but instead of knocking on toji’s door, you’d booked a plumber. you weren’t doing anything wrong, you told yourself — they were just neighbors. neighbors.
not friends. not anything more than the people across the hall. right?
toji, though, noticed. the absence of your knock, the way megumi seemed a little more sullen, staring at the hall like he was waiting for someone. “you think she’s mad at us?” megumi asked one evening, poking at his rice.
toji’s response was a noncommittal grunt, but the truth was, he didn’t know. for some stupid reason, the distance stung. not that he’d ever admit it. not that he had any right to care.
you were just neighbors, after all.
when your girl came bounding through the door, her face glowing from the trip, the first thing she asked wasn’t about you or the gifts she’d brought back. no, it was, “how’s gumi? how’s uncle toji?”
the question hit harder than it should’ve. you realized with a pang of guilt how much distance you’d put between yourself and the fushiguros. brushing it off with a casual, “they’re fine,” didn’t sit well either. so, when your daughter insisted on running over to their apartment to see megumi, you didn’t stop her.
watching her skip down the hall, you thought it’d all smooth over naturally. kids were resilient like that, weren’t they? but then she came back. and she was crying.
between her sobs and hiccups, you managed to piece together the story. megumi, sweet, awkward megumi, had exploded in a torrent of childish frustration. how your daughter hadn’t been around. how you hadn’t been around. how he thought you both didn’t care anymore.
you felt your heart shatter as your girl bawled into your arms, her small hands clutching at your shirt. “why’s he mad at me, mama? i didn’t do anything!”
meanwhile, across the hall, megumi was in tears too, angrily wiping at his face as he sat cross-legged on the couch. “i hate her!” he shouted, voice wobbling. “she didn’t even say hi! she just left like everyone does!”
toji sat there, looking at his son, the beer he’d been nursing now warm and forgotten. the kid’s words were like a punch to the gut. he realized, with sinking clarity, that megumi wasn’t just upset with your daughter. the boy was lashing out because he felt abandoned.
when the knock came at the door, it was no surprise. you stood there, your girl clutching your hand, both of you looking just as frazzled as toji and megumi.
“we need to talk,” you said.
“yeah,” toji muttered, stepping aside to let you in.
the conversation wasn’t easy, with both kids sniffling, glaring at each other, and clutching onto their respective parents like lifelines. but as you and toji sat there, stumbling through apologies and promises to do better, you realized how much you’d hurt them by pulling away.
“friends don’t do this,” your girl said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
“yeah,” megumi added, glaring at his lap. “friends don’t just leave.”
and in that moment, you and toji exchanged a look. it was one of understanding, of shared guilt and resolution. you weren’t just neighbors anymore, were you? whether you liked it or not, you’d become something more — something messier, but ultimately worth fighting for.
the fight left behind a new set of rules — some spoken, others understood. your daughter would spend one hour with megumi every weekend, no negotiations. an additional hour was set aside for assisted ballet practice, with megumi reluctantly twirling around like an uncoordinated giraffe under her direction. and then, as if her creative pursuits weren’t already ambitious, she insisted on an hour of practicing makeup.
on a very, very unwilling toji.
the first time she smeared blush across his cheekbones, a bright pink mess, toji grumbled the entire time. “this is ridiculous. i look like a clown.”
“no, you don’t,” your girl countered with all the confidence in the world. “you look beauuuutiful.”
megumi snickered behind her, holding up a hand mirror so his dad could see the finished product. toji groaned, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest twitch of amusement.
you leaned against the doorway, watching the scene unfold. the shared giggles, the clumsy but earnest teamwork — it was loud, chaotic, and beautiful in its own way. this was right. this was what you hadn’t even realized you were missing.
and kento? well, the date you thought could be something turned into a friendship you didn’t know you needed. he became a quiet presence, someone who checked in, who made you laugh when work got overwhelming, and who offered sage advice about life when you needed it most.
“you’re doing great,” he told you once over coffee, his calm reassurance soothing the doubts that often crept in.
between the budding chaos in your hallway ballet classes, the makeup artistry sessions that somehow always ended with toji pouting in pink lipstick, and the quiet stability kento offered, you realized that life had settled into something messy, imperfect, but undeniably nice.
maybe it wasn’t what you’d planned. maybe it wasn’t ideal. but as your daughter twirled around the room, megumi trailing after her with hesitant steps, and toji scowled half-heartedly at his reflection, you couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.
exam season brought chaos, but not the kind you'd expected. with your daughter spending extra time at her dad's house to focus on studying, the silence in your apartment felt foreign. that is, until megumi started showing up more often, knocking on your door with his usual grumbles.
"why isn't the test about superheroes or football?" he'd complain, dragging his workbook into your living room as though it carried the weight of the world.
you’d chuckle softly, pulling up a chair next to him. “if multiplication was about superheroes, what would the question even look like?”
megumi furrowed his brow, considering. “uh... like, if spider-man saved five people every day for a week, how many people would he save?”
you smiled, leaning in. “exactly. now, how would you solve that?”
somehow, tailoring the lessons to his interests worked wonders. before long, megumi wasn’t just tolerating study time — he was coming over more and more, plopping onto your couch like he lived there.
toji, on the other hand, didn’t know what to make of it. sure, he appreciated that you were helping the kid, but every time he walked past your door and heard megumi's laughter ringing out, he felt... off.
he chalked it up to jealousy at first. not the bitter kind, but the kind that made him wonder why megumi could so easily open up to you, share his frustrations and laugh like the world wasn’t on his tiny shoulders.
then there was the other feeling, the one he buried as quickly as it surfaced. it was... comfort. relief, even. seeing megumi so at ease with you, so happy, made something in his chest tighten.
it didn’t help that when megumi came home, he’d mention you in passing, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “she said i’d ace the test if i think about it like superheroes. she’s kinda cool.”
toji would grunt, pretending not to care. “yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable over there.”
but the truth was, toji couldn’t decide if he envied you for being able to connect with his son so easily or if he was just... glad. glad that someone like you existed in megumi’s world.
he wouldn’t admit it, though. not even to himself. instead, he shut the feelings down, brushing them off like they were nothing. because, after all, you were just the neighbor who helped out when needed.
right?
toji had every intention of marching into your apartment to retrieve megumi with a grumble about bedtime. the kid was always strict about his sleep schedule — how the hell had he fallen asleep at your place?
but when he stepped inside, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.
there you were, sprawled on the couch with megumi curled up next to you, both of you out cold. the TV flickered softly, playing megumi’s favorite superhero show. the coffee table was a chaotic mess of open textbooks, scattered pencils, and hastily scribbled notes.
toji stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with the weird tug in his chest. the scene was... domestic.
painfully so.
megumi’s head was resting on your shoulder, your hand loosely draped over his back like you’d done this a thousand times before. the way you were both nestled together was too natural for something that should’ve felt foreign. it made something warm and uncomfortable rise in toji’s chest, a feeling he wasn’t ready to name.
he took a step closer, leaning against the doorframe. his frown deepened, not out of anger but out of frustration — mostly at himself.
this wasn’t anything, right? this was just you being nice to his kid. helping him out with schoolwork and keeping him company because you were a good person.
but then why did his heart feel like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest? why did seeing you with megumi like that make his throat tighten?
toji ran a hand through his hair, sighing quietly.
“dammit,” he muttered under his breath.
he knew he should’ve woken the both of you up, taken megumi home, and gone about his night like this didn’t mean anything. but instead, he found himself lingering, watching the two of you for a moment longer.
did neighbors really do this? take care of someone else’s kid like they were their own?
and did neighbors treat each other with such quiet, subtle affection? the kind that slipped into actions rather than words — the casseroles when someone was too tired to cook, the soft smiles exchanged in passing, the way you’d text him about the latest sale on megumi’s favorite snacks?
toji shook his head, trying to shove the thought away. god forbid, he might actually like you.
it was supposed to be a normal monday morning. drop your girl off at her ballet studio, exchange a quick goodbye, and then head to work like it wasn’t eating you alive that she was growing up too fast.
but then toji came out, coffee in one hand and his other scratching the back of his neck as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly still waking up. “hey, kid,” he called to your daughter, motioning her over with a lazy wave.
what happened next made you freeze mid-turn, your keys jangling awkwardly in your hand.
toji knelt to her level, his gruff voice taking on an edge of sincerity. “listen up, girlie. when you’re up there, you give ‘em hell, alright? don’t let anyone tell you you’re not good enough. and don’t worry about messin’ up — just keep goin’ like it never happened.”
your daughter nodded with wide eyes, hanging on to every word, her little face lit with admiration.
and god, he was trying so hard to keep it clean. but every so often, a “shit” or “hell yeah” would slip out, sending her into a fit of giggles. she tried so hard to be serious, biting her lip to stifle her laughter, but the sheer ridiculousness of him attempting to be PG while still being him was too much for a nine-year-old.
megumi, standing nearby with his arms crossed, was clearly torn. his little scowl was stuck somewhere between annoyance at your daughter for monopolizing his dad’s attention and longing to be spoken to like that himself.
and your daughter? she latched onto toji like he was some kind of life coach, her arms around his neck, thanking him in that sweet, sing-song voice she always used when she was truly happy.
your fingers tightened around your keys as your chest did a stupid thing.
because here was toji, your grumpy neighbor who could barely keep it together when megumi so much as sneezed during homework time, and yet here he was giving your girl the kind of pep talk that should’ve come from her own dad.
and worse? she listened. eagerly.
you fidgeted with your keys like that’d distract you from the warmth creeping into your chest, from the realization that maybe, just maybe, this tough, foul-mouthed, perpetually tired man wasn’t just good with kids. he was good for you. god forbid, you might actually be falling for toji fushiguro.
it wasn’t your finest moment — double-booking a work meeting during your daughter's pickup. you were already spiraling into guilt, pacing the room while trying to find a way to make it work, when toji grumbled his way into volunteering.
“don’t make a big deal outta it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “she’s comin’ over for megumi anyway. might as well save you the trouble.”
you barely had time to thank him before he was out the door, keys jingling in his hand.
but what toji walked into at your ex’s house was far from what he expected.
your ex was already on some power trip, standing in the doorway like he owned the world. the smugness on his face was palpable, and it only got worse when he saw toji, a man who didn’t give a damn about puffed-up egos.
“oh, so you’re her chauffeur now?” your ex sneered, leaning lazily against the doorframe.
toji ignored him at first, his sharp eyes scanning past him to find your babygirl. she was standing behind her dad, clutching her little backpack like it was a shield, her lips trembling as she peeked at toji with wide eyes.
“c’mon, kid,” toji said, his voice softer than you’d expect from a man like him. he extended a hand, but your ex stepped in the way.
“you got a lotta nerve coming here,” your ex spat, crossing his arms. “what, you think playing house makes you her dad?”
toji’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he took a deliberate step forward. “nah,” he said coolly, his voice dripping with menace. “but i’m a helluva lot better at it than you.”
that set your ex off, his voice rising with insults and accusations, not even caring that his daughter was right there, watching the whole thing unfold.
and toji? he had it. his patience snapped like a brittle twig.
“y’know what’s funny?” toji growled, stepping so close your ex had to tilt his head back to meet his glare. “you’re standin’ here flappin’ your gums about bein’ her dad, but you’re too busy bein’ a selfish prick to realize what you’re doin’ to her.”
before your ex could stammer out another insult, toji hoisted your girl into one of his arms like she weighed nothing, shielding her with his broad shoulders as he glared down at your ex.
“don’t bother callin’. she’s got enough on her plate without dealin’ with your crap,” he bit out before turning on his heel and walking away, your girl clutching his shirt like it was her lifeline.
the ride back was quiet, your girl’s sniffles filling the air as toji’s hand rested protectively on the wheel. he didn’t say much — just an occasional grunt to reassure her. when they arrived, he handed her off to you without a word, but the fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
and you? you were floored. because for all of toji’s grumbling and rough edges, he wasn’t just stepping up when you couldn’t — he was fighting for your girl like she was his own.
evening walks were supposed to be your moment of calm, a chance to clear your head after a long day. but calm went out the window the moment you saw megumi in the park, his usual quiet confidence missing as a group of older kids cornered him.
his small frame was tense, shoulders squared, but you could see the way his hands trembled as he balled them into fists at his sides. it wasn’t like megumi to let himself be pushed around, but whatever the bullies were saying had struck a nerve.
you didn’t even have to get close to catch the cruel words that slipped out of their mouths.
“no wonder your mom didn’t stick around.”
“bet she took one look at you and ran.”
“you’re just some charity case with a deadbeat dad.”
your heart twisted at the look on megumi’s face — his jaw clenched, eyes glassy with tears he refused to let fall. you weren’t his mom, but you felt the instinctive flare of protectiveness that made you forget every rule of decorum.
marching over, you didn’t bark at the kids or shoo them off like some passerby might. no, you planted yourself right beside megumi, crossing your arms with a look so sharp it could cut steel.
“is there a problem here?” you asked, voice calm but carrying a weight that made the kids shrink back.
they glanced between each other, suddenly unsure. “we were just talking —”
“talking?” you cut in, your tone sharp enough to make them flinch. “sounds to me like you’re all just jealous.”
the kids froze, confusion written all over their faces. “jealous of what?” one of them finally asked, voice cracking slightly.
you placed a hand on megumi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “jealous that you’ll never have the heart or the strength this kid has. it’s easy to gang up on someone when you’ve got a pack behind you. try standing on your own for once. but then again, maybe that’s asking too much.”
megumi didn’t say a word, but you felt him lean into your touch, his small hand brushing against yours as if testing its solidity.
the bullies sputtered, trying to save face, but one by one, they slunk away, muttering excuses as they disappeared into the distance.
the moment they were gone, megumi’s tough facade crumbled. his shoulders sagged, his head dropping as the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over.
you crouched down to his level, wrapping your arms around him as much as his wiry frame would allow. “it’s okay, sweetheart,” you murmured, brushing a hand through his unruly hair. “you’re okay now.”
and just like that, this tough, guarded nine-year-old melted into your embrace, his small sobs muffled against your shoulder.
you stayed there, holding him as the evening light faded, your heart breaking and swelling all at once. you weren’t his mom, but in that moment, you might as well have been.
toji wasn’t the type to lose his composure, not even when megumi brought home bruised knees or a bad grade. he was a man of steady hands and a guarded heart, but tonight? tonight was different.
he was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, when megumi hesitated in front of him, nervously fiddling with his sleeve. “dad, something happened today,” he mumbled, voice low.
toji raised an eyebrow, setting his drink on the table. “what kind of something?”
and then megumi started talking — about the bullies, about their cruel words, and then about you stepping in. how you stood there, firm and unyielding, pretending to be his mom without hesitation. megumi’s voice cracked when he got to the part where he cried in your arms, and toji swore he felt something shatter in him.
he didn’t know if it was anger, gratitude, or guilt — maybe all three twisting together into a storm that made his chest ache.
"you didn’t say anything stupid to her, did you?" toji asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
megumi shook his head quickly. "no, but... she was really nice. it felt... it felt okay."
toji sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back into the couch. he should’ve been mad. should’ve been upset at megumi for dragging you into their lives like that, but instead, all he could think about was the way his chest tightened at the thought of you.
he needed to see you. not because he owed you, not because of some sense of duty, but because the idea of you stepping up for his kid like that made him feel something he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
he stood abruptly, grabbing his coat. megumi looked up at him, startled. “where are you going?”
toji paused for a moment. “i’ll be back. don’t stay up too late.”
megumi didn’t ask questions, just nodded and watched his dad leave the apartment.
when toji knocked on your door, he didn’t even know what he was going to say. a simple “thank you” didn’t feel like enough, but what else could he offer? the way his hands flexed at his sides and the way his heart pounded in his chest betrayed the calm exterior he was trying to maintain.
when you opened the door, he saw the surprise flash in your eyes. “toji?”
he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish — a sight you never thought you’d see. “can i come in?”
and that’s when you felt it too — something bubbling between you both, something that had been building for a while, but neither of you had been ready to face. until now.
toji stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes flicking between you and the floor like the words he was searching for might be scrawled on the ground. he wasn’t the kind of man who talked about his feelings, let alone spilled them out like this.
but he had to say something.
“look,” he started, voice low and gruff, “i’m not great with... this kind of thing.”
you tilted your head, waiting patiently, and that just made it harder for him.
he huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “megumi told me what happened today. how you... stepped in. and, uh —” he paused, almost wincing at how clumsy his words sounded, “ — just... thanks. for being there. for him.”
you smiled softly, opening your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, cutting you off. “no, wait. i’m not done.”
he shifted, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through it anyway. “it’s not just today. it’s all of it. you’ve done more for that kid than most people ever have. hell, more than i probably have, and i’m his dad.” his laugh was bitter, self-deprecating. “you didn’t have to, but you did. and i —” he faltered, swallowing hard.
you could see it then, all of it — the gratitude, the guilt, the admiration, the something more he was too scared to name. it was all there, plain as day in the way he looked at you.
he sighed, shoulders slumping as if the weight of his words had exhausted him. “just... thanks. for him. for me. for... everything.”
and maybe you didn’t need to say anything. because as clumsy and awkward as his words were, you understood. you really did.
so you stepped forward, just close enough that he couldn’t avoid meeting your eyes anymore, and gave him a small, understanding smile. “you don’t need to thank me, toji. i care about him. about you both.”
something flickered in his expression — relief, maybe, or something even deeper. he nodded, just once, and it felt like enough. no confessions, no big speeches.
just this.
something had changed, though neither of you dared to put it into words. it was in the little things, the quiet moments that made your lives blur together in ways that felt natural, almost inevitable.
like how megumi, who usually kept his friends at arm’s length, started demanding your baby girl's presence at every outing, loudly justifying it as “she’ll get bored otherwise,” when really, he just liked having her around. and during those movie nights, when the kids were too engrossed in the screen, you and toji sat closer than necessary, your fingers brushing as you both reached for the popcorn. neither of you pulled away.
it was in how you became megumi’s loudest cheerleader at his little league matches, rivaling even toji’s booming encouragement. and the way he’d grin at you like you were the reason he hit that home run, his awkwardly mumbled, “did you see that?” enough to warm your heart.
toji wasn’t any different. no matter how busy he was, he showed up to every single one of your baby girl's ballet recitals, clapping so obnoxiously loud at the end that even the other parents gave him side-eyes. and after each recital, he’d crouch down, looking absurdly out of place with his towering frame, to tell her exactly how amazing she was — always with a teasing grin and a “guess megumi’ll have to step it up to keep up with you, huh?”
and then there were the practices. toji, of all people, trying to mimic ballet moves while your daughter giggled at how his long legs never quite landed in the right positions. megumi tried to feign disinterest but ended up joining too, his face as serious as ever as he attempted a plié.
you’d think the makeup thing would’ve been too much for him, but no. those butterfly-drawn cheeks and glittery nails stayed with toji for hours after your daughter left, and he never wiped them off — not until bedtime. megumi pretended not to notice, but you’d catch him smirking when toji forgot to scrub off a particularly bright streak of pink before heading out.
it all felt so... domestic. so easy. yet, neither of you dared to name it.
because neighbors helped neighbors, right? neighbors went to movies together. neighbors cheered for each other’s kids. neighbors shared popcorn and let their walls crumble, piece by piece.
this was okay. just neighbors looking out for each other. nothing more.
...right?
until it wasn’t.
you barely managed to get out of the cab, your heels clicking against the pavement, your dress clinging uncomfortably after hours of fake smiles and firm handshakes. all you could think about was peeling everything off, crashing into bed, and hoping the world would let you sleep in for once.
but then you saw him — toji, leaning against your apartment door, his broad frame tense, his head snapping up the moment he heard your footsteps.
"where the hell were you?" his voice was rough, low, but not angry. it was something else.
you froze, your bag slipping off your shoulder. “what are you doing here?”
his eyes, bloodshot and desperate, locked onto yours, scanning every inch of you like he was checking for injuries. “it’s one a.m., on a thursday,” he said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. “your lights were off. you weren’t answering your phone.”
it hit you then — he’d been worried. toji fushiguro, the man who grumbled more than he talked, who deflected every feeling with a snarky comment, was pacing the hallway outside your apartment because he thought something had happened to you.
“i had a business meeting,” you said, the exhaustion seeping into your voice. “it ran late.”
but your explanation didn’t seem to matter. he took a step closer, his shoulders sagging in relief but still stiff with whatever storm had been brewing inside him.
“you could’ve told me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “what if something happened? what if —”
“toji.” your voice was soft, cutting through his spiraling thoughts.
he stopped, his hand dropping to his side as he looked at you, his expression raw and unguarded. he wasn’t just worried. he was terrified. terrified that whatever this strange, fragile thing between you might be, it could slip away in an instant.
and before either of you could think better of it, you closed the distance. your arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him into a hug that felt as natural as breathing.
he stiffened at first, his body caught off guard, but then his arms came up around you, pulling you closer with a quiet exhale that sounded like he’d been holding it in all night.
neither of you said a word. you didn’t need to. whatever this was — this thing that had been building between you — it was no longer just neighbors helping neighbors.
it was so much more.
sure, the hug wasn’t something life-changing, but it definitely shifted something, like a tiny crack in the wall that neither of you were ready to knock down completely. there was this... tension now. not bad, not awkward, just there. like some invisible thread pulling you two closer, though never quite crossing a line — both of you too cautious, too unsure, to see what might happen if you did.
and damn those kids. they picked up on it almost immediately, their sharp little eyes catching every glance that lingered too long or every time toji grumbled just a little less around you.
megumi, of course, was the worst of the two, his quiet observations turning into pointed stares and a knowing smirk that made you want to sink into the floor.
“so,” he started one evening as he watched you and toji navigate an unspoken argument over whether you’d be the one to drive the kids to practice. “are you gonna be my dad’s special lady friend now or what?”
you nearly choked on air, and toji’s head snapped around so fast you were sure he’d pull a muscle.
“megumi,” toji growled, the warning clear in his voice.
megumi just shrugged, completely unbothered. “what? i like her. she’s nice. and you’re less grumpy when she’s around. that’s what matters, right?”
toji pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about smartass kids. but there was a faint flush on his face, one that made you glance away quickly before your own cheeks betrayed you.
megumi’s logic was simple, blunt, and so very megumi. but it stuck with you more than you wanted to admit. if he was okay with whatever this was between you and his dad, maybe... just maybe, that was enough.
you sat cross-legged on the couch, sorting through some old receipts and papers, while your babygirl sprawled on the floor with her coloring book. the soft scratch of her crayons filled the room, a soothing sound that made the evening feel warm and easy.
“mom?” she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.
you glanced up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “yeah, baby?”
she didn’t look up from her coloring, her little fingers gripping the green crayon a bit too tightly as she focused on staying inside the lines. “i like him.”
you blinked, confused at first. “like who, sweetie?”
she paused, tilting her head as if the answer was obvious. “uncle jiji.”
the crayon stilled in her hand, and she finally looked up at you, her eyes wide and sincere. your breath hitched, a small wave of surprise washing over you.
“oh?” you tried to keep your tone light, your fingers fiddling with the papers in your lap. “why’s that?”
“he’s funny,” she said matter-of-factly, returning to her coloring. “and he’s nice. he always listens to megumi, even when megumi’s being bossy. and he told me i’m the best ballerina ever — even better than on tv!”
you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. of course, toji had said that.
“he’s just really cool,” she added, as if that sealed the deal.
you set the papers down, your chest tightening in a way that felt both overwhelming and oddly comforting. her words felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.
“you really like him, huh?” you asked softly.
she nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing with the motion. “yeah. and megumi’s cool too. he always shares his toys, even his superheroes. i think he’s my best friend.”
the corners of your mouth tugged upward as you leaned back against the couch. “well, i’m glad you think so, baby.”
“do you like him?” she asked suddenly, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with that unnerving, sharp perception only kids seemed to have.
your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the papers in your lap, pretending to shuffle them aimlessly. “well… yeah, i think he’s nice too.”
she studied you for a moment before shrugging and returning to her coloring. “good. because you’re happy when you talk to him. and he looks at you like daddy never does.”
your breath caught. her words were simple, innocent even, but they struck something deep. you reached out, smoothing a hand over her hair.
“you’re pretty wise for someone not even ten yet, you know that?” you murmured.
she giggled, leaning into your touch. “i know.”
as she went back to her coloring, you leaned back into the couch, letting the relief settle in. maybe she was right. maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. maybe… it was something good. something you both deserved.
toji sat on the worn couch in his living room, staring blankly at the muted television. the house was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle from megumi’s room. it should’ve been peaceful, but instead, it felt like the silence was screaming at him, pressing all those thoughts he’d been trying to ignore right to the surface.
what the hell was this?
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand down his face as he let out a low sigh. you were in his house so often now that it was hard to tell where the line was anymore. your girl's kid-sized ballet slippers were right by the door next to megumi’s sneakers. a casserole dish you’d returned sat drying on the counter. you had this way of slotting into his life that felt so natural it scared him.
did he want to address it? maybe.
maybe not.
you were busy as hell — a working mom with your own kid to think about. toji wasn’t stupid. he knew what he came with. a nine-year-old son, a messy history, and enough emotional baggage to sink a ship. did he really want to drag you into all that?
but then there were moments, like tonight, when the kids had dragged you into some elaborate roleplay involving superheroes and ballerinas. you’d sat cross-legged on the floor, a makeshift cape tied around your shoulders, pretending to be "supermom," and he hadn’t been able to look away.
when you’d caught him staring, you’d just laughed, “what? do i have pizza sauce on my face or something?”
he’d grunted something noncommittal, shaking his head, but his chest had felt tight in a way he couldn’t explain.
and now, here he was, thinking about it again.
his thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the front door opening. you peeked your head in, a sheepish smile on your face. “hey. sorry, megs forgot his backpack at my place. figured i’d drop it off before i forgot, too.”
he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as you walked in, setting the backpack down by the door. you were still in your work clothes, your shoulders looking a little more tired than usual.
“you could’ve waited till tomorrow,” he muttered, his voice low but not unkind.
“it’s no big deal,” you replied, brushing him off.
he watched as you straightened, lingering in the doorway, and something about the way you hesitated made him speak. “you eaten yet?”
you blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “uh, no, actually.”
he motioned toward the kitchen. “there’s leftovers. you want some?”
your smile softened as you stepped closer. “sure. thanks, toji.”
as you walked past him, his hand twitched at his side, like it wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.
in the kitchen, you moved around like you belonged there, grabbing a plate and heating up the food. he leaned against the counter, watching you in silence, and for the first time, he let himself think about what it would mean to let this thing between you be more than unspoken.
“hey,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than he intended.
you glanced at him over your shoulder. “yeah?”
he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words catching in his throat. instead, he just muttered, “nothing. never mind.”
you tilted your head, studying him for a second, before giving a small nod. “okay.”
but there was something in your eyes, like you knew what he wasn’t saying, and it made his chest ache.
he wasn’t sure if addressing whatever the hell this was would change anything, but seeing the way you fit into his life — into megumi’s life — made the idea of trying feel a little less terrifying.
it wasn’t like you and toji had made any grand declarations. it was all small things, gestures that felt normal but carried an undercurrent of something deeper. grocery runs were the easiest excuse. you’d bump into him on your way home, still in your blazer and heels, and he’d grumble about needing to pick up some snacks for megumi. before you knew it, you’d both be walking side by side, bickering over the best brand of chips.
“you’re seriously buying that brand?” you teased, holding up a bag of chips that toji had tossed into the cart.
“megumi likes ‘em,” he retorted, leaning on the cart with that stupidly casual confidence that annoyed you just enough to make your heart flutter. “and besides, it’s not like your kid’s picky when she raids our pantry.”
you rolled your eyes but smiled all the same, because he wasn’t wrong.
then there were the little fixes around your apartment that seemed to magically get done whenever toji was around. your leaky faucet, the busted door hinge, your temperamental car — he waved off every attempt you made to pay him. “mechanic perks,” he’d say with a shrug, wiping his hands on a rag and giving you a smirk that made you want to both thank him and punch him.
and those car rides? the ones where the kids didn’t even need to be there? yeah, those were starting to feel more like a habit. you’d offer to drop toji off after picking megumi up from practice, and somehow, the drive would extend into picking up your girl from ballet class.
“they gotta meet anyway,” toji would say, his tone so nonchalant it was almost believable. but the way his eyes softened when your babygirl came running out, arms wide open for both of you? that was something he couldn’t fake.
then there was the day your ex finally had enough of whatever this was. the two of you had shown up together, a united front, to pick up your daughter from his place. she’d lit up like a firework when she saw you and toji standing side by side, and you couldn’t help but revel in the sight of her running straight into toji’s waiting arms before hugging you just as tightly.
“this is the guy you’ve been parading around with?” your ex sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he leaned against the doorframe. “what, you think a deadbeat like him is an upgrade?”
toji’s posture stiffened, his grip on your daughter tightening just slightly as she clung to his neck. you opened your mouth to retort, but toji beat you to it, his voice calm but laced with steel.
“funny coming from you,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he stared your ex down. “least i actually show up for her.”
your ex faltered, his face contorting in anger, but he didn’t have a comeback. you didn’t stick around long enough for him to try.
as you buckled your daughter into the car, her voice piped up, innocent and bright. “jiji, are you coming over for dinner?”
toji glanced at you, and for a moment, something passed between you. a silent understanding, an acknowledgment of whatever the hell this was.
“yeah, kid,” he said, ruffling her hair with a small grin. “i’m coming over.”
and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were walking this road alone.
the house was warm with the kind of peace that only came after a long, chaotic day. your babygirl and megumi were a tangled heap on the couch, her tiny head resting on his shoulder while he leaned back with his mouth slightly open, fast asleep. the tv played muted scenes of superheroes saving the world, but the real action was in the kitchen, where you and toji stood shoulder to shoulder by the sink.
"you sure you’re not just washing that same plate for the third time?” you teased softly, nudging him with your elbow as he scrubbed with more focus than seemed necessary.
toji smirked but didn’t look up, his voice low and gravelly. “just making sure it’s clean. you don’t want megumi whining about leftover crumbs, trust me.”
you chuckled, rinsing another dish under the warm water, and for a moment, it was just the soft clink of plates, the jazz playing quietly from your speaker, and the faint sound of your daughter’s steady breathing in the living room.
but something was different tonight. the air felt heavier, charged, like it was holding its breath. you could feel it in the way toji’s arm brushed against yours as he passed a dish to you, in the way his fingers lingered a second too long when he handed you the towel.
“you really didn’t have to stay and help with this,” you said, glancing at him.
he shrugged, still not meeting your gaze. “figured i owed you. besides, you cooked. least i can do is clean up.”
his voice was quieter than usual, almost shy, and that wasn’t a word you’d ever thought you’d associate with toji fushiguro. it made something in your chest tighten.
you turned off the faucet, drying your hands as you looked over at him. he was still focused on the plate in his hands, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set like he was bracing himself.
“toji?”
he finally looked at you, and there it was — that softness in his eyes that he didn’t let show often. it made your breath catch, made the world feel like it had shrunk down to just the two of you standing in this little kitchen.
he set the plate down slowly, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face you fully. for a moment, neither of you said anything. the jazz filled the silence, but the air between you was louder than words.
his hand came up hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his calloused fingers grazing your cheek. “you’ve been good to him, y’know,” he murmured, his voice rough but soft in the way he said it. “to us.”
you didn’t know what to say to that. all you could do was nod, your throat tight as you looked up at him. his face was closer now, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips like he was searching for something — permission, maybe, or courage.
you didn’t even realize you’d moved until your hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.
and then it happened.
he leaned in, slowly, almost cautiously, and your eyes fluttered shut just as his lips brushed against yours. it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away — when you leaned into him instead — it deepened.
toji kissed like he did everything else: fully, unapologetically, with an intensity that left you breathless. his hands found your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and you slid yours up to rest on his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the way he held you like you were something fragile and precious all at once.
the kiss wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every second of it. it was the kind of kiss that left your knees weak, your head spinning, and your heart pounding in your chest.
when you finally pulled back, both of you a little breathless, his forehead rested against yours.
“damn,” he muttered, his voice low and a little shaky.
you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt. “yeah,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.
the moment stretched between you, warm and heavy and perfect. and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
megumi stirred awake first, his sharp eyes blinking groggily as he took in the scene. your baby girl was still curled up against him, her face smushed against his shoulder, and he wrinkled his nose, trying to shake her off gently without waking her. it was only when he looked over to the kitchen that he paused, his brain catching up with what he was seeing.
his dad. toji. standing ridiculously close to you by the sink, both of you talking in low voices like the world outside didn’t exist. toji’s hand brushed your arm lightly as he reached for a towel, and you laughed softly, a sound that felt too intimate for megumi to process this early in his half-asleep state.
“ugh, gross,” he mumbled under his breath, sitting up straighter and inadvertently jostling your babygirl awake.
she yawned, rubbing her eyes and giving him a confused look. “what’s gross?”
“nothing,” megumi said quickly, his face heating up as he avoided looking at her — or at the scene in the kitchen that was playing out like the ending of one of those superhero movies he loved but would never admit made him feel things.
by the time you and toji noticed the kids were awake, megumi had already schooled his expression into something neutral, though his sharp eyes flicked between the two of you as you made your way over.
“sorry for waking you up, sweetheart,” you said softly to your kid, crouching down to smooth her hair.
toji, ever the blunt one, crossed his arms and grunted, “time to get going, brats.”
megumi shot him a look, one that said you’re not fooling me, old man, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he stood up and stretched, deliberately not looking at how his dad’s gaze lingered on you for just a second too long.
at the door, the kids exchanged their goodbyes in their usual awkward but affectionate way — your baby girl giving megumi a quick hug that he tolerated with a huff.
toji ruffled megumi’s hair roughly, earning an annoyed grunt. “come on, kid. say thank you.”
megumi rolled his eyes but muttered a grudging, “thanks for dinner,” before looking up at you.
and then, because megumi was too perceptive for his own good, he added, “and for putting up with him.”
toji frowned, his brows knitting together. “watch it, smartass.”
but the way you laughed — soft and warm and filled with something megumi couldn’t quite name — made toji’s expression soften.
as you leaned down to hug your babygirl goodnight, megumi caught his dad watching you again, his face doing that weird thing it did when he was proud of a home run or secretly enjoying one of megumi’s superhero tangents.
“dad,” megumi said as they stepped into the hallway.
“what?” toji grunted, avoiding his son’s gaze.
megumi smirked, the kind that made him look way older than his nine years. “you’re doing that thing.”
toji frowned, feigning ignorance. “what thing?”
“you know. that thing my favorite superhero does when he saves his secret girlfriend,” megumi said with a dramatic air, glancing back at your door before looking at his dad again.
toji snorted, trying — and failing — not to look flustered. “quit it, kid.”
but megumi didn’t miss the way his dad’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. he knew exactly what was going on.
love? probably.
yeah, megumi was pretty sure his dad loved you.
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it was funny, really, how quickly time had flown. one moment, you were corralling a tutu-clad, glitter-faced babygirl to ballet class, and the next, you were breaking up arguments between her and megumi over whose superhero knowledge was superior.
"they’re literally fake, megumi!" she'd shriek.
"so are ballerinas in space!" he’d yell back.
and there you and toji would be, slumped at the dining table, each nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee as you exchanged weary, knowing looks.
“how do ten-year-olds even have this much energy?” you’d mutter, pressing your fingertips into your temples.
toji, half-laughing, half-grumbling, would reply, “they don’t. they’re siphoning it off us.”
it had been a year and a half of this — this weird, beautiful, chaotic thing you’d built. the kids, their shared antics, and the way they declared every single dinner a sleepover had woven your lives together so seamlessly that it felt like you’d never been apart in the first place.
but the truth? the sleepover excuse wasn’t just for the kids anymore. you and toji had grown so comfortable in this rhythm, this routine, that it felt like breathing. and yet, there was still this unspoken thing between you, hanging in the air like a question neither of you wanted to ask.
it was easy to ignore, easier still to pretend that this was just how things were. you’d watch as toji threw his head back in laughter at one of megumi’s sarcastic comments, his broad shoulders shaking, or when he’d lean in to help your girl tie her ballet shoes — his fingers oddly gentle for someone so rough around the edges. those moments made your heart ache in ways you didn’t want to name.
and then there was the way he looked at you when the kids weren’t paying attention. like when megumi would drag your babygirl out into the yard to “train” her in superhero moves, and you’d catch toji’s eyes lingering on you just a second too long.
“what?” you’d ask, your voice quieter than you intended.
“nothin’,” he’d say, but the way his lips twitched into a small smile betrayed him.
but you knew it wasn’t nothing. it hadn’t been nothing for a while now. and maybe it was time to stop pretending.
your ex hadn’t made it easy, of course. every time he paraded some new flavor of the month in front of your girl, you’d see the disappointment in her eyes, and it made your chest tighten. but then there’d be toji — steady, dependable, his quiet reassurances and the way he always managed to make her smile again.
“he’s better than dad,” she’d told you once, out of the blue, her voice small but firm.
and maybe that was the final nudge you needed.
the night felt heavier than usual, the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards the only sounds accompanying you as you stood side by side in the kitchen. toji rinsed the last plate, handing it to you with a quick glance that lingered a little too long.
“they’re getting wilder,” he muttered, nodding toward the living room where your girl and megumi were sprawled on the sofa, limbs tangled as if they'd fought sleep until it finally won.
you chuckled softly, drying the plate and setting it aside. “they’re ten. this is the warm-up for what’s coming in a few years.”
he let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair. “don’t remind me. thought i’d have more time before the hormones kicked in.”
you smirked, leaning against the counter as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. it was domestic in a way that felt almost too intimate, like crossing an invisible line. and yet, neither of you had stepped back.
“toji,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.
he looked up, the weight in your tone pulling his full attention. “yeah?”
you hesitated, biting your lip as you fidgeted with the edge of the dish towel. how do you even start this? you thought about the past year and a half, the shared laughter, the quiet moments, the way his presence had become a constant in your life. the way your girl lit up when he was around. the way you lit up.
“this,” you finally said, gesturing between the two of you, your words coming out softer than you intended. “whatever this is... do you think we should talk about it?”
his brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, your heart sank. but then he nodded, setting the towel down on the counter.
“i’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he admitted, his voice low.
“and?” you prompted, your heart pounding in your chest.
he sighed, leaning against the counter beside you, his gaze fixed on the floor. “look, i’m not great at this kinda thing,” he began, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of the counter. “but... you’ve been good for me. for megumi. hell, for both of us.”
your breath caught, and you turned to face him fully. “toji...”
he held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “lemme finish,” he said, his voice a little rough. he looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to figure out how to say something he’d been holding onto for too long.
“i didn’t think this was gonna happen,” he said finally. “not for me. not again.” he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “but you... you made it so easy. like it’s not somethin’ to be scared of. like it’s just... there. y’know?”
you nodded, your throat tight as you listened.
“and it’s not just about me,” he continued, his voice softening. “it’s about them. megumi... he’s happier than i’ve seen him in years. and your girl? she’s somethin’ special, and the way you’ve raised her... damn.” he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”
you felt your cheeks heat, and you looked down, trying to compose yourself.
“so yeah,” he said, his voice steady now. “i don’t know what this is, but if you’re askin’ me if i want more of it... then yeah. i do.”
your breath hitched, and when you looked up, the sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten.
“toji,” you said again, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve wanted to say something for a while now, but I didn’t know how. you’ve been... everything we didn’t know we needed. me and my girl. you’ve been there in ways no one else ever has, and it’s just... it’s so easy with you. i want this too.”
his lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and for a moment, the weight of the unspoken words between you lifted.
“yeah?” he asked softly, his voice almost teasing.
you smiled back, nodding. “yeah.”
and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out and pulled you into a hug. it wasn’t rushed or desperate — it was steady, grounding, the kind of hug that felt like coming home. and when he whispered, “i’m all in if you are,” into your hair, you felt the last of your hesitation melt away.
because with toji, love wasn’t just a possibility — it was a promise.
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another two years later, and the kids were twelve. twelve. a big deal, according to them. suddenly they were "basically teenagers," and with that came a whole new level of attitude and pride. and you and toji? you were more than grateful for the chaos. or, as he liked to tease, “engaged to it.” yeah, engaged. took the man long enough — three and a half, maybe four years — but who’s counting?
your kids, of course, had taken the news with the kind of casual confidence only twelve-year-olds could muster. “about time,” megumi had muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs from your girl, who’d just grinned and said, “told you he liked her.”
and publicly? they carried themselves with the kind of poise that made you and toji bite back laughter more than once. “yeah, that’s my dad,” your girl would say with a shrug as toji dropped her off at ballet, towering over all the other dads and somehow looking both intimidating and incredibly proud as she disappeared into the studio.
megumi was just as bad. “that’s my mom,” he’d say to anyone within earshot at his little league games, pointing you out as you cheered the loudest from the stands, sometimes alongside toji who couldn’t help but smirk at your enthusiasm. “and yeah, that’s my sister,” he’d add, nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t a big deal that they’d practically become inseparable siblings over the years.
of course, behind closed doors, they were just kids. kids who still watched superhero movies while pretending not to, kids who choreographed ballet routines to superhero soundtracks because cool kids don’t watch superhero movies.
and you? you were still on that hustle, balancing work, motherhood, and planning a wedding with the kind of grace that made toji shake his head in awe every time.
“how do you do it?” he’d asked one night, watching you juggle your laptop and the kids’ school schedules.
“coffee and pure spite,” you’d replied, smirking over the rim of your mug.
toji, though? he’d built something solid too. his mechanic shop was finally open, a dream he’d quietly nurtured for years. seeing him in his element, sleeves rolled up, hands covered in grease, and that signature smirk plastered across his face, was enough to make your heart skip a beat every damn time.
life wasn’t perfect — there were still late nights, homework battles, and the occasional tantrum — but it was good. no, scratch that. it was damn good.
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THE OTHER GUY PT.3 | FC43
an: let's go part three! i'm really loving this series, i'm trying to push for 4/5 parts? lmk if there is anything you guys want to see in particular! love you guys <3
part one | part two
ynpiastri
liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 31,475 others
no excuses
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The low hum of the treadmill and the rhythmic clang of weights filled the resort’s gym, but Franco wasn’t paying attention to any of it. His focus was locked on the woman in the corner, working through her routine with laser-like focus.
She didn’t notice him, which was for the best—he wasn’t ready to deal with her sharp tongue or the way she looked at him like he was the villain in her story. But right now, she was different. She didn’t have her guard up, didn’t look like she was ready to tear him apart with another sarcastic comment. She looked… gorgeous.
It wasn’t just the way her ponytail swung as she moved, or the way her tank top clung to her in all the right places. There was something else, something about the determination in her eyes, the way she focused on each rep like the rest of the world didn’t exist. She wasn’t just beautiful���she was fierce. Strong. And, damn, if that didn’t make her even more attractive.
He ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool. Franco knew he shouldn’t be watching her like this, but it was hard to look away. Every time he saw her, something pulled him in, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend it was just because she hated him.
He’d been thinking about her way too much lately. The way she challenged him, never letting him get too close, always keeping him on the edge. And yeah, maybe that was part of the thrill. But now, as he stood there, watching her with sweat glistening on her skin, it wasn’t just about the challenge anymore.
He wanted to ask her out.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and he cursed under his breath. What the hell was he thinking? She couldn’t stand him. She’d made that clear from the start, and asking her out would probably end in her laughing in his face or worse—publicly roasting him on her Instagram for the world to see.
But still… he couldn’t shake the thought. The way she made his heart race, how every word from her lips felt like a dare. He wanted to take that risk, to see if maybe—just maybe—there was something more behind her walls. Something she wasn’t ready to admit.
“Mate, what are you staring at?”
The voice of his friend, Diego, snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed Diego walking up beside him, his water bottle in hand and a raised eyebrow on his face.
“Nothing,” he muttered, but it was too late. Diego followed his gaze, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Right. Nothing. That’s why you’ve been standing here for a full five minutes staring at her like a lost puppy.”
“Callarse la boca,” (shut up) he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure it’s not.” Diego’s grin widened as he leaned in, lowering his voice. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”
He shot his friend a look. “You’re joking, right? You know how she feels about me. She’d chew me up and spit me out before I even got the words out.”
“Maybe,” Diego admitted, shrugging. “But maybe she wouldn’t. Look, I’m just saying, you’ve been eyeing her for days, and it’s not just because she’s Logan’s best friend and Oscar’s sister. You’re into her.”
“I’m not—”
“Mate, you are.” Diego cut him off, raising his hand. “And here’s the thing: girls like her, the ones that give you a hard time? Half the time, it’s because they’re scared of how much they like you. You know the saying, ‘keep your enemies close’ and all that.”
He shook his head, but deep down, he couldn’t deny Diego’s words were getting to him. Maybe that’s why she was always so sharp with him—because she was scared. Or maybe he was just kidding himself.
“Look, you’ll never know unless you try,” Diego continued, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s the worst that could happen? She shuts you down? You’ve survived worse, need I remind you of your ex?.”
He thought about it for a long moment, his eyes drifting back to her as she moved through her final set. Diego was right—he’d survived worse, and if she shot him down, at least he’d know he tried. And if, somehow, she didn’t… Well, that was a risk worth taking.
“Fine,” Franco said finally, running a hand over his face. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask her out.”
Diego grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just be cool, alright? Don’t be the cocky bastard you usually are. You’ve got this.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but as he took a deep breath and headed toward her, the pounding in his chest wasn’t just from nerves. It was excitement. He was ready for the risk.
francolapinto
liked by williamsracing, carlossainz55, ynpiastri and 984,237 others
keep pushing during the break
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You wiped the sweat from your brow, breathing hard as you finished your last set. The gym was quiet this time of night, just the way you liked it. Fewer people meant fewer distractions—fewer chances of running into Franco.
You shook her head, scolding yourself for even thinking about him. Why was he constantly on your mind? Maybe it was because he seemed to pop up everywhere. The pool, the restaurant, and now—you caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror—the gym.
Your eyes flicked to the reflection. There he was, leaning against the doorway, watching you. You could feel his gaze, the same infuriating, intense look he always gave you, like he was daring you to react. It was infuriating how much he got under your skin, how he was always there, always pushing.
You turned your back to the mirror, trying to pretend you hadn’t seen him, but the knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen. It wasn’t nerves, not really. It was more complicated than that—a mix of irritation, confusion, and something you refused to name. You weren't about to let him know he’d gotten to you, not when he was probably waiting for you to snap, just so he could make some smug comment.
But he didn’t leave.
You could feel him still there, watching, and it drove you crazy. You could handle the public stuff—the jabs on social media, the press interviews where he dropped some flirty comment about you, like he was trying to bait you. But this… this was different. He wasn’t playing to an audience here. This was just him, watching you like you were the only person in the room.
Your heart pounded, and you hated it. Hated that he had this effect on you.
You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around the dumbbell in your hand. Maybe if you just ignored him, he’d leave. But then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps moving closer made your grip tighten even more. He wasn’t leaving. Of course he wasn’t.
"Hey," his voice cut through the air, smooth and casual, like he hadn’t been staring at you for who knew how long.
You straightened up, wiping your palms on your leggings before turning around, schooling your face into a mask of indifference. You weren't going to let him see any weakness.
“What do you want?” you asked, your tone sharper than youintended.
He hesitated for a second, almost like he wasn’t sure what to say. That was a first. Usually, he had some cocky remarks locked and loaded. But tonight, there was something different in his eyes. A vulnerability that threw you off guard.
“I was just… wondering if you wanted to grab a drink or something,” he said, the confidence in his voice wavering just enough for you to notice.
A drink?
You stared at him, completely blindsided. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you’d expected. Was he seriously asking you out? After all the snark, all the public back-and-forth?
You should say no. You should laugh in his face, tell him to take his ego and leave you alone. It would be the easiest thing in the world to turn him down.
But the words didn’t come.
Instead, you found herself staring at him, taking in the way his usually cocky demeanour had softened. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t playing some game to get a rise out of you. He was just… asking. And there was something disarming about that.
Your heartbeat quickened, and you hated that, too.
“You’re joking, right?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “No joke. Just thought maybe… we could talk. Outside of all this.”
You could tell he was waiting for the rejection. You could practically feel the tension rolling off him as he braced himself for your inevitable shutdown. But for the first time since you’d met him, you didn’t feel like fighting. She felt… curious.
Why now? Why you?
You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “You know I can’t stand you, right?”
His lips twitched in what almost looked like a smile. “Yeah. I’m well aware.”
“And yet you think I’d want to get a drink with you?”
He shrugged, his eyes still holding yours, like he was trying to figure you out. “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”
You wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to laugh in his face, but instead, you found herself biting your lip, considering it. And that was the most frustrating part. Because as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny there was something between them. Something you couldn’t explain, but it had been simmering beneath the surface from the moment you two had met.
You should say no. You should walk away, like you always did.
But instead, you found herself meeting his gaze head-on, searching his face for any sign of the arrogant playboy you’d convinced yourself he was. But all you saw was sincerity. And that was what made you hesitate.
“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms tighter. “But one wrong word, I’m gone.”
His smile was instant, warm, and more genuine than you’d ever seen. “Deal.”
ynpiastri
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 31,437 others
alllllcoooolllllhol es muy bueno
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The bar is dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet corner of the resort. Normally, you’d appreciate the calm atmosphere, but tonight, you can’t shake the nervous energy running through you. You don’t know why you agreed to this—sitting across from him, sipping drinks as if you aren’t the same person who publicly can’t stand him.
Franco leaned back in his chair, watching you with that same relaxed expression that always makes your pulse quicken, though you’d never admit it. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never been surfing?” His voice is casual, like this is the most normal conversation in the world.
You shrug, swirling your drink in your hand, trying to act unaffected. “We’re a racing family.”
He grins, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll have to take you sometime. I bet you’d be a natural.”
That teasing tone, the cocky smile—it should annoy you. It does annoy you. But there’s something different tonight. He’s not playing for an audience, not trying to rile you up like usual. It feels… real. And that’s what unnerves you the most.
“You think I’d take surfing lessons from you? You think I’d voluntarily hang out with you again?” you quip, raising an eyebrow, trying to regain some control over the situation.
“Absolutely. And you’d love every minute of it.”
You roll your eyes, but even as you do, you feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. When did this become easy? When did you start enjoying his company?
You take a long sip of your drink, trying to steady yourself. You shouldn’t feel this way. You’re supposed to dislike him. He’s supposed to be the cocky new driver who replaced Logan, the guy you roast on social media. So why is your heart racing?
“Are you okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, softer now.
You blink, realising you’ve been staring at the glass in your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, setting it down.
But he’s still looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to read your mind. And for the first time, you don’t know if you can hide behind your usual sarcasm. He’s seeing through your defences, and that terrifies you.
“Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost gentle, “if this is weird for you, you can leave. No pressure.”
Your heart skips at the way he says your name, like it means something more than just another person in his world. Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, and you hate that it makes you feel something, something you’ve been trying to ignore.
You’re about to make a snappy comeback, to brush it off like always, but instead, you just sit there, staring at him. The space between you feels too small, the air thick with an unspoken tension.
Then a thought came to the front of your mind, was he going to kiss you?
The thought sends a jolt through your system. You should pull back, say something snarky, shut this down before it goes any further. But you don’t move. And neither does he.
The tension is electric now, crackling between you like a live wire. He leans in, just slightly, enough for you to feel the heat of his presence, and you realise—so do you. You’re leaning in, too. Your heart is racing, your breath shallow. You can feel the moment hanging there, fragile, on the edge of something you’re not sure you’re ready for. You’re ready to blame the alcohol but you hadn’t even finished your first drink.
And then, just as the space between you is about to disappear, a voice shatters the moment like a glass breaking.
“Oh my god Franco! Can I get a selfie with you?”
The interruption hits you like a bucket of cold water. You jerk back, blinking as you realise there’s someone standing beside the table—a girl, wide-eyed and holding up her phone, looking at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon.
He glances at her, clearly surprised, but quickly recovers with that easy charm of his. For a second, the connection between you snaps, and the intensity of the moment is gone.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, smiling at the fan. “Just give me a second.”
You lean back in your seat, trying to get a grip on yourself. Your heart is still racing, and you feel the ghost of what almost happened hanging in the air. You hadn’t realised how close you’d come to crossing that line until the moment was interrupted. And now that it’s gone, you don’t know how to feel. Relieved? Maybe. But there’s a part of you—a part you hate to admit—that’s disappointing.
He turns back to you, his face apologetic, as if he knows exactly what you’re feeling.
“I’ll be right back,” he says softly, standing up to take the photo.
You watch as he poses with the fan, your heart still thudding in your chest. The moment between you lingers in the air, but now, with the interruption, it’s slipping away. And you’re not sure if you want it back or if you’re relieved it’s gone.
twitter
imessage between logan and yn
the end.
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