#so i may stop for my own sake

[livrere-green]

the fact that charles was so gentle and sincere with his answer to edwin's confession is something I could never forget... because that's what love is about, right?

love is in the way charles could never hurt edwin on purpose, is in the way he protects him, in the way he knows when edwin needs to be seen; love is in the choice of every one of his words, in the way he knows that being honest is the only right answer.

there's still forever waiting for them, there's still forever waiting for charles to figure it out, to discover if he loves edwin in a romantic way too, and it doesn't matter if is not romantic in the end, because that it's just a side of the love they share.

i think is so important not to overlook something like that, not to let that pending romance overshadow the fact that they already love each other in every other way.

because in the end, we are talking about two boys that have experienced excruciating pain, that have seen horrifying things during all their existences, and in spite of it, or maybe because of it, are capable of loving each other in a way that's so pure and strong and relentless...

reducing the importance of it to a reciprocated romantic love seems so simplistic and inconsiderate to me.

[snekdood]

still looking through old art and im writhing with disgust at the fact that i tried to make taos nose smaller to make him look more like my abuser for them 🤢🤢🤢

[moechies]

toji’s little pregnant wife who’s only pregnancy craving is his thick, bitter cum </3

“but.. i want it..” you pester toji, tugging on his arm. you groan at the way your big, soft belly gets in the way of completely smothering the man, but it doesn’t stop you.

“no,” he grunts back, shaking his hands off as he places back the last dish from your two’s meal prior. “i can’t have y’hurtin’ yourself. i’ll never forgive myself if ya do.”

“i-it’s a craving, toji,” you joke, but truthfully you know you’re serious. looking up at him with watery eyes, you’re undeniably desperate, your plush thighs growing achy and soft cunny growing hot at the thought. “please toji, wan’ y’r cum.” you purr.

he scowls, cursing at the hard bulge that undeniably presses against the countertop. he tried his very best to deny your little pleads , that’s enough right ? if his pregnant wife really insists, wouldn’t it be right to accept so ? he wonders.

“t-toji,” you moan, like a bunny in heat.

“fuck me, princess.”

“i-i wil—“

before you’re able to finish your sentence, he’s hoists you into his arms with no trouble, making his way towards the soft couch displayed in your home’s living room. you giggle uncontrollably when he nuzzles himself against your neck, blowing soft raspberries against your skin, which has grown sensitive throughout the term of your pregnancy.

“ill jus’ finger you, how about it ? i don’t want ya on yer knees , mama.”

“no.. n-not enough.” you mumble into his chest, tugging against his ribbed tank top. “wan’ your cock. in my mouth, your cum—“

he finds it hilarious, you’re so adorable. he thinks the celibacy for the sake of your two’s baby may have have been the cause of all this attention, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“insatiable little dolly, aren’t you ?”

“mhm, i missed you s’much.”

“‘m right here mama.” he lays you against the soft cushion, pressing a kiss against the back of your hand.

“y’sure ya wanna do this ? y’don’t have to.” as if you were doing it for his sake. your legs ache and shiver with anticipation, already able to feel your mouth salivating at the thought. “want to, i want to !”

“shh, don’t get so worked up, now.” he chuckles, “stress is bad for the baby.” he drops the softest plushie on the ground, and leading your supple body against his lower half. you sit obediently between his legs, sore cunt throbbing erratically at the anticipation.

“take him out, dolly.” he smirks, watching you tug down his thin sweats, huffing at the stiff bulge that presses against his cotton boxers. you fumble your little fingers against his cock, nervous at how he seems to be watching you so intently, watching your each and every move, finding any reason to stop.

your breath is hot against his budge, slithering your hand against his boxer clad cock before pulling the fabric below his plump balls. he groans at the juxtaposition of your soft fingers against his meaty dick; oh how much he missed the mere sight of such.

“‘m gonna cum just like this mama.” he jokes alongside panty groans, twitching when you press your plush lips against his tip without hesitation. you envelop your warmth around his swelling cock head, pink tongue lolling out and dragging through his hefty slit.

you moan at the taste of his salty musk coating your eager tongue, hands fondling at his pudgy balls as you ease yourself further closing in on his base.

“just like that, just like that mama. yer doin’ p-perfect.” he sighs, petting your hair gently. his fingers stroke through your soft locks, curling a finger around the stray pieces that’s fallen in front of your face, and tucking them behind your ear.

“gorgeous lady, my pretty wife, hm?” he watches you fuck your own cheek with his cock, drooling unexpectedly at the overwhelming girth. “juuust like that.”

“pwah—!”

“what’s wrong , dolly ?” he mumbles with a tint of worry. he runs a thumb across your swollen bottom lip, pressing his sticky thumb back into your mouth as you eagerly suck. “‘s-s too g-gud,” you mumble. “wan’ more.”

“s all yours, darling. take yer time.”

your hot breath causes toji to twitch, shoving his cock mindlessly back into your mouth. you press your throat onto the blunt tip, hot tongue swirling around the un-cut tip.

with a few more pumps of your hot mouth assaulting his sensitive tip, he spurts a heavy load into the warmth of your mouth with soft groans, hand leading yours to jerk at the rest of his cock. “fuck, damn.” he groans breathlessly, barely visible beads of sweat crowning at his forehead.

you swirl your nut-covered tongue against his dick, making a mess. it drools down his cock, dirtying his now-soft sack, coating your plush lips in a soft creme white. toji tugs on the cushion tightly, allowing you to have your fun although he’s well beyond overstimulation and close to passing out. not from the simulation itself, but the way you look so innocent below him, yet you’re really so nasty.

definitely his wife.

“that’s it.” he watches you slowly swallow his cum, throat bulging gently every time you take a gulp; just the prettiest sight. although your mouth emptied, lips licked clean, you continue licking at his dirtied shaft, taking everything you can get.

he scruffles your hair, a light tug at your head to pull your suckling lips away from his sensitive cock. he leans down, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips and pressing your head to close in on him. he sucks on your flavorful tongue, tasting himself. “damn, doll. really haven’t lost yer touch, huh? no wonder we’re perfect f’eachother.”

[exosciences]

Destiny is a great game when you don’t got a bitch in your ear telling you it’s bad

Some days, it feels like enjoying Destiny, flaws and all, is wrong.

It feels like if you don't have ANYTHING negative to say about the game, you're wrong.

God forbid if it's something that is universally hated in the community, like Gambit or Lightfall.

"Why do you like [insert character]? They're poorly written." I like how they're written, and it works with how Destiny is telling it's story.

"The story is a jumbled mess." And? You won't be spoonfed everything in life, even in games. And it works for this story to be not spoonfed everything. It leaves you puzzling, and that's a good thing.

"[Game mode] is dumb! How the hell can you play it so much?" It's fun and engaging. It may not be to you, but it is to me, what's the problem with that?

Every day, I ask myself why I keep playing Destiny. And the answer is simple: I like the game.

And every day, I feel like that answer is the wrong thing to say and believe. That I HAVE to have something I don't like about it. And I don't have anything about Destiny I don't like.

Is it that hard to ask for people to just enjoy a game and let it's developers work? Yes. Apparently it is. And I'm sorry for expecting better out of this community.

Okay I'll shut up now.

[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʟᴀᴍʙᴇɴᴛ

⛧ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sukuna x (Fem)Reader

⛧ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: true form!sukuna, pregnant!reader, heian era customs, pregnancy, mentions of cannibalism, sukuna being an asshole (what do you expect)

⛧ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3767

⛧ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Carrying the King's of Curses child, you knew wouldn't be easy, but you were more than happy to have a baby of your own. Even if said baby was growing rapidly while being the source of your bad back and changing appetite.

⛧ᴀ/ɴ: sukuna fluff is hard to come by in my opinion and so sorry if he's ooc but i wanted him like this. also, this is for lemon and ava, two of my favorite sukuna babes 🤍

⛧twitter - ao3

Wrist flicking out, you fanned yourself, eyes heavy with the sleep you had been fighting as you pursed your lips and eyed the blooming trees of the garden. Spring was rounding itself off, the scorching weather approaching you knew in weeks as you could only prepare yourself to be practically bedridden due to your ‘condition’. You’d only arrived a year and a half prior, and you quickly realized you had not seen much of the palace still after taking a husband, be it due to the duties of a noble person who were bound to spend most their days inside and entertaining themselves another way.

You held back a snort, fanning yourself harder as you stopped and eyed a nearby bush full of bright fruit and as red as your husband’s eyes.

…Husband.

In your youth, you supposed the daydreams of living in nobility were only achievable through luck. Or perhaps told through a fortune told from the Omikuji you required as a teen, taking the fortunes of ‘blessing’ and ‘marriage’ with a grain of salt until you had grown into an adult and ran off to be elsewhere from the clutches on an arranged marriage. Into serving nobility, to becoming nobility wasn’t necessarily on your list, your marriage by all means was an unlawful one. Forged from blood and flesh when you remembered instead of sipping sake in front of the Gods, your husband-to-be curled his fingers around your wrist and bit into your palm to instead partake in you.

You had been enamored by him since you first met him, eyes memorizing every inch of his unusual face before taking his thumb into your mouth when he smeared his own blood across your lips. It had sealed your fate that moment, your love and lust for him bursting forth like a raging inferno then and during the commutation of your marriage. Something that had finally taken into effect and was weighing down on you heavily.

One you supposed was the reason for the wariness when it came to serving you.

Cutting your eyes to the side and slightly behind you, you held the sigh in, your attendant keeping her eyes on the ground (perhaps watching your feet when you walked) as to shield her pensive expression from you, however you were not the unobservant type and focused on the knot between her eyebrows. Mai, your first and most loyal attendant, was never one to shy away from pestering over you, speaking her mind and filling in for advice whenever you needed it, so to see her quiet and on edge grated your nerves more than you liked to admit. She had been your first friend when you arrived, and you absolutely despised when she reverted back into the meek and submissive attendant she played whenever your husband was around, and it was enough to make you frown and worry if you had done something wrong.

You sighed loudly, snapping your fan shut and turning to the woman slowly, “You look like you have something you want to say.”

Mai’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, long and curled as her doe-like eyes rose to meet yours. She seemed to mull over your statement, before bowing her head in submission and speaking quietly, “Permission to speak?”

A smile graced your lips, softening your expression and nodding to her in return, “You always have permission with me, Mai.”

And just like that, Mai’s entire attitude flipped at your nonchalance. Straightening herself up, she dropped the service act and eyed you with suspicion and wary, mixed in with tired disappointment at having to cater to your more… reckless wants. “It’s just that Lord Sukuna has told us to monitor you and keep you in the palace when he’s away. And you’ve disobeyed that… again.”

Ah, there it was. With a scowl threatening to mar your face, you turned your back to her and began to pick through the strawberries in the bush you had been eyeing before, “I’m in the gardens. That’s still the palace… Is it not?”

“Yes, but –”

“This one looks ripe…” you cut her off, not necessarily wanting to hear her prattle on about how your husband made it horrifyingly clearly that you were to say inside at all times when he wasn’t at the palace. You’d heard it all before so many times it had been practically engraved into your skull with ink, and you were fed up with sitting on your knees inside away from the outside world and learning calligraphy constantly. Lips downturned you plopped a good-looking strawberry into your mouth, humming at the juice and tangy sweetness that exploded upon your taste buds, before your stomach gave an abrupt twist and a foot kicked out against your ribs. You winced and rubbed at your belly while the fruit suddenly tasted foul, and you swallowed with a grimace, “I hate how hungry I get nowadays, especially when I seem to crave more than just human food.”

Mai had been watching you like a hawk, leaning forward to intercept you whenever you reached for another fruit, “Oh, let me get it for you –”

“Please, Mai, I can pick my own strawberries. You worry too much.” Batting her hand away, you plucked it, hiding it in your sleeve and turning to her with an exhausted smile as she took your fan from you.

“Yes, My Lady. But please consider my words, we can keep you entertained in the palace.” You watched the lines on her face carefully, creased at her eyes and wrinkles forming at her forehead, and you could only wonder if your pregnancy had been the cause of her newly formed stress (partly, you knew you could’ve blamed it on your husband, his aggressive and aloof behavior all in one keeping most of the servants on the tips of their toes, but you quickly squashed it whenever you remembered she tended to you entirely).

Of course, you knew she was only doing her job, however her job was also giving you a severe case of claustrophobia being cooped up inside all the time. It wasn’t like you were planning to ever leave the palace’s premises either, just small strolls in the garden or spending time by the pond to cool off. Honestly, you had reason to believe she and your husband were just worrywarts (yet for the latter, you would keep that strictly to yourself).

You nodded your head in the direction you wanted to go, signaling Mai to walk beside you as you sighed and lowered your voice, “The midwife told me exercise will help…” you caressed your palm over your protruding stomach, “The baby is already huge and only seems to keep growing. A little sun helps me too, Mai… I can’t stay cooped up forever.”

Mai took a few moments to respond, her shoulders relaxing and her voice regaining familiarity, “I’m only worried since the last time you fainted out here.”

Lips thinning outwards, you remembered it all too well. Not necessarily fainting, though you blamed it on the many layers you wore around the palace and how warm it was getting outside, but you remembered the aftermath and how your husband had all but slaughtered a few lowly servants in retaliation as to letting you out (and because of his temper). You had thought the gore would’ve had you running, but you’d grown so used to him murdering someone whenever they slightly pissed him off you could only sigh at the thoughts. Of course, you knew Mai’s worry also came out of fear, however you weren’t about to let him do anything to her. “I know, but I feel fine… Just swollen feet and my back aching every time I move.”

And the baby kicking at your body whenever something displeased him.

Mai sighed your name exasperatingly, dropping the formalities, “Please, given your condition I think it’s best if you return to the palace.”

Irritation began to seep in your muscles, your baby moving in response to your emotions as your feet marched faster to walk. If you wanted to walk around the garden, you were allowed to, you would deal with your husband later if he found out. “What my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him… Just another stroll and we can go back in, I’m getting tired anyways.”

“My Lady �� oh!”

Mai abruptly skidded to a halt, body bending quickly into a low enough bow for the towering sight of your husband appearing before you both. You spared her a quick glance, flickering back to your husband, Lord Sukuna, when you realized he wasn’t the least bit concerned over her. He kept all four eyes on you, a challenging glare in them and you nearly wanted to laugh at the sight of two of his arms crossed and the other two planted on his hips. He looked every part of a disappointed husband – a father in the making, and you could already feel the talking your ear was going to get. Ah well, you could always feign falling asleep on him, that seemed to always make him softer.

Bending slightly into your own bow, he spoke, addressing Mai with a singular command, “Leave,” and you only returned back to your own height whenever you peeked that she was gone. You held back the groan at the pull your spine gave, wincing slightly at the shine of the sun before his large form eclipsed it as he finally moved close to you with no one in sight. The familiarity of his warmth and scent eased some of your irritability, wondering why he was back to early and ecstatic that he came to look for you once he couldn’t find you.

You smiled up at him, rolling the strawberry around your fingers before gesturing with your head to the path you had been walking, “Walk with me?”

Sukuna was ever-so unwavering in his staring, watching you practically dawdle in your place with the world’s most unamused expression, “Weren’t you told to stay inside?”

You repressed a shudder at his rough voice as your skin prickled, another sigh leaving while your shoulders slumped; caught. “I might remember you telling me that.” He seemed to not be in the mood for your sweettalking.

A loud exhale made your smile turn sheepish. “You piss me off.”

You knew that was coming, pulling out your hand from the sleeve to produce the strawberry from before, letting his eyes follow the way you rolled it into your palm, “But you’re here now… Nothing could really happen now since I have you.”

Sukuna’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes narrowing inward before he scowled at you enough to let his upper lip slightly curve over his teeth, “Changing the subject won’t help you. Are you gonna walk back, or do I have to carry your ass and –"

In a bold move you silenced him, pressing the strawberry to his lips with two fingers and slightly pushing it forward in hopes he would eat it. His eyes couldn’t narrow or glare any further, shooting from you to the fruit, and holding them there for a few moments and you wanted to giggle because it nearly looked like he pouting. Your husband never really ate human food, perhaps to humor you before he would spit it out and complain about the horrid taste it gave him, however there were a few times his interest would peak and want a bite of whatever you had in your hand – especially when said food seemed to satisfy you so much. You supposed it was his curiosity to understand you better, having a human in such close quarters and as a wife was perhaps as jarring as it was to have him as your husband.

Toying with him, you said, “It gave me bad taste earlier… Want to try it?”

Sukuna’s lips twitched behind the fruit, a clear sign he’d indulge you that time and when you went to move your hand away from him, one of his hand snatched your wrist with a small squeeze. An unspoken word for you to leave your fingers on the fruit and indulge him. And you did so with coquettish blink, pressing the strawberry harder against his lips until they gave way and his teeth were biting into it with the juice from inside sliding down your fingers as he slowly and sensually ate the strawberry from your fingertips. It didn’t help that he kept his eyes on your own the whole time, your cheeks burning as you never were able to get used to your husband’s forward assertion on sensuality.

Your breath caught and eyes widened when his tongue slid over the length of your fingers before slipping in his mouth and sucking on them until they were free of any residue stickiness. You couldn’t help the rapid beat of your heart, lips parting as his thumb tapped in rhythm to your pulse point before he let go of your fingers with a loud ‘plop!’ and a satisfied hum rumbling out of him as you could only gaze dumbfounded at the saliva coating your fingers. After a few moments you cleared your throat and swallowed, eyeing him warily as you knew his stomach probably wouldn’t last long and he’d be hacking it up with loud complaining.

And on cue, you watched fascinated as the mouth on his stomach frowned.

Oh, here it comes. It never lasted long in his system.

You sighed as he spat it out, licking his lips and scowling at the ground, “You’re right, tastes like shit.”

“Would you like me to say something to the servants?” you asked, mentally cheering with a soft smile on your face when he fell into step with you to walk along the gardens. It was never hard to get what you wanted out of him.

“It’s not poor gardening skills, it’s you.” You opened your mouth, ready to backtalk at the insult, yet he silenced you with a hand raised before one of his fingers traced along your cheek, “Weren’t you waddling in and practically whining for some of my food?”

How could you forget, a week ago you’d been lured out of your bed chamber by the most mouthwatering smell and your baby kicking incessantly once your stomach growled. You had stumbled upon Sukuna and Uruame, the latter making Sukuna’s dinner and the dinner something you never were to partake in since his appetite did not quell your hunger. However, when you found yourself salivating with your stomach rumbling and your baby kicking, it was a jarring experience to come to realize you were indulging in cannibalism and liked it. Liked it so much your child never rolled in a fit that night and Sukuna had been extra attentive to you afterwards with his praising.

An answer was on your tongue, though you chose to neglect saying anything when your taste buds twitched at the thought of that dinner and instead enjoyed your walk in peace. Your husband only snorted, a slight laugh leaving him at your pout before he returned his limbs to himself and rolled his gaze forwards on the path you’d been on. Times with him were normally relaxing as he was actually rather lazy when he had nothing to do, his affections ranging from just enjoying your presence in silence to twirling your hair around his finger whenever you were close enough. You never minded, glad to spend time with him though it was equally as nice whenever he seemed get even clingier once finding out you were pregnant.

Even his soft, lingering touches moments ago set your heart ablaze, and you wondered if he felt the same whenever you ran your fingers through his hair whenever he felt like resting his head in your lap.

Minutes into your relaxing walk you felt it, an agonizing cramp pulsing in your back and the soles of your feet screaming in protest at being mobile for too long. Of course, you get some time to do something with him and your body halts that and screams at you to stop. You didn’t want to say anything, not wanting to bother him nor ruin the peaceful moment you were so grateful to have. Although the pain in your body had other plans, cramping upwards and throbbing whenever you tried to take another step so much you immediately had to double over with one hand resting on your stomach.

You stopped, the other hand moving to hold your aching back, and you were vaguely surprised he stopped at the same time. A wince and awkward bouts of silence later, you groaned and straightened back up, “I’m sorry, I think it gets worse every day.”

Sukuna remained silent and still, before a rumbling from his chest prickled the hair on the nape of your neck. “Hm, almost like you should’ve listened to me.” He was back in that disappointed husband stance, and you knew if you were to look into his face you’d see the smug grin at your misfortune. Gritting your teeth you didn’t give him the satisfaction, watching glumly as he sighed rather loudly and moved away from your side to continue walking in the direction of this palace.

You reaped what you sowed you supposed, having to walk back alone after being told not to be out of the palace when he wasn’t there. And your body complaints for moving about too much agreed, a quiet moan of frustration leaving you as you closed your eyes and counted to ten to calm your nerves, reopening them when the pain muted itself into a dull ache for the time. However, you completely clammed up at the sight of your husband bent down in front of you, the black of his haori draped over his shoulders shielding your view of his sculpted back and his face turned forward giving you no indication of what he was doing.

Yet, he did seem like he said something, though you were too befuddled to even understand what he had said.  

“What –”

“Are you deaf?” he interrupted, turning his head slightly and motioning with his head from you to climb onto him, “I said get on, before I change my mind.”

He wanted you… to ride… on his back? Never once did he ever engage in something like that with you (besides carrying you in his arms, but that had been the night of your wedding and he’d practically tossed you on your beds afterwards), though you weren’t about to pass by the chance for him to carry you. Though you weren’t too sure how to climb on his back and hold on so heavily pregnant, Sukuna didn’t have four arms for nothing you supposed.

Not wanting him to change his mind and keep him waiting, you clambered onto him to best you could dressed in several layers with your legs kicking free to slip underneath the lower set of his arms. You held back a squeal when your baby kicked at all the movements, arms flying forward to nearly constrict Sukuna’s airway off as he in return grunted and stood to his full height while beginning to move forward in a slow pace. You were grateful he was taking it slow, still trying to get comfortable and trying not to think about how bad it would hurt to fall off his back from his enormous height…

“Stop fucking squirming…” he grunted again, readjusting you with his arms as your body reclined higher up on his back and he continued walking, “Acting like I’ve never touched you before.”

“It’s not that. He – “ you cut yourself off, you hadn’t necessarily told him that you believed your baby was a boy, and you didn’t want to hear any of his teasing, “the baby kicks and squirms whenever I move too much.” Or whenever he hears your voice, you groused, further proving your point when he kicked at you again whenever Sukuna spoke once more. You wondered if he could feel the kick on his back.

“Damn.” A pause of silence and Sukuna was jostling you on his back, “How much does that prick weigh? Or is that all you?”

Your hand itched to slap the back of his neck, though you held yourself together and only offered him a scoff while making yourself comfortable, “He takes after his father.”

“And he wiggles like a worm, just like his mother.”

You had half a mind to say something about him referring to your child as a boy, your cheeks hot when you rested your chin atop his shoulder and eyes growing lidded with sleep while he inadvertently rocked you with his steps. You bit the inside of your cheek in a girlish thought that your husband was walking slower on purpose, rolling your ankles to stop you from kicking your feet at the idea he wanted to spend more time with you alone. Then again, he was doing all of it for you when he could’ve just left you alone, or not come out to find you at all.

Maybe some days he missed you as much as you missed him.

In a bold declaration, you pushed yourself forward until your nose was skimming Sukuna’s cheek, a chaste kissed you placed there seconds later whenever he didn’t say or do anything to push you away, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Sukuna hummed low in his throat, a deep rumbling that vibrated against your arms and soothed your aching ribs, “Don’t get used to it. I just didn’t want to wait around for your slow ass to waddle back in.” Though he sounded rather harsh, you knew he was just doing roundabout affection in his own way.

Your head lolled against his, the leaves on the trees above swaying you into a warm midday nap the longer you watched them through your eyelashes, “Take me to bed?”

You didn’t necessarily hear his response, though you weren’t dreaming it when his fingers tightened the hold he had on your thighs, the warmth he emitted doing wonders for the pains in your body as he secured you further into his back to ensure you didn’t fall off. You couldn’t help the smile, your cheek smushed into his shoulder as you took one final look at the sunlight path before you both and closed your eyes as exhaustion took its hold over.

With a last conscious thought, you reminded yourself to thank Mai later for allowing you a nice stroll in the garden – especially when you were doing it with your family.

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[tempo-takoyaki]

From an anonymous freeform prompt for SVSSS Action, may I present to you... Delicious in the Abyss! A SVSSS x DunMeshi AU!

More info about the different characters (with some sketches) under the "read more" :

In Delicious in the Abyss, we follow various groups of adventurers as they explore the "abyss" a mysterious place filled with various fauna and monsters. No matter their race or age, most of them have the same goal: becoming the master of the abyss... However, some have a very different idea of how one should explore the abyss. Take for example a certain group led by an elf named Shen Yuan who desires one thing only... eat as many different monsters as possible!

Shen Yuan's party :

Shen Yuan: Elf, 87 y/o, Mage. His wish is to eat and study as many monsters as possible. He started exploring the abyss about twenty years ago, but had to stop abruptly after taking in Luo Binghe. On the surface, his studies seem to merely be for the sake of curiosity... But are they?

Luo Binghe: Tiefling, 63 y/o, Tank (and cook). Thrown into the abyss at the age of 38 (since tieflings are a long-lived race, it means he was about 14), he got stuck in the lowest levels for few years before Shen Yuan saved him. He regards him as his savior (and one true love) and would do anything for him... even if it means cooking the monsters (he hates it, he hates it so much).

Shang Qinghua: Gnome, 87 y/o, Healer. Shen Yuan's oldest friend and the author of many infamous books. He stopped writing them about twenty years ago though, after he started to explore the abyss with Shen Yuan. He seems to be looking for something in the abyss, or rather: someone.

Liu Qingge: Tallman, 26 y/o, Swordsman. One of Shen Yuan's friends. He used to be part of the Cang Qiong guild but left it after a disagreement with one of his colleagues. Now he works for Shen Yuan with his younger sister, Liu Mingyan. "Uh? My goal? Get stronger. Mh."

Liu Mingyan: Tallman, 24 y/o, Swordswoman. Liu Qingge's younger sister, she accompanies him on each of his missions. She got an offer to work with Cang Qion mountain once but refused it once she learned her brother had left the guild. She's quiet but efficient, however, Shang Qinghua suspects that she might stick around for other reasons...

Cang Qiong Guild:

Yue Qingyuan: Tallman, 48 y/o, Tank. The leader of Cang Qiong, he's a respected individual amongst adventurers. However, he seems leniant on the vices of his vice-leader: Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu: Tallman, 40 y/o, Swordman. Vice-leader of Cang Qiong. He's the reason Cang Qiong is exclusively made of tallmen, as he has a strong distate for any other races, especially elves. The only exception to this rule is his adopted daughter: Ning Yingying, a dwarf. He's the one who abandoned Luo Binghe into the abyss after discovering his true nature.

Mu Qingfang: Tallman, 29 y/o, Healer. The group's medic.

Qi Qingqi: Tallman, 31 y/o, Swordswoman. She wanted to create a branch specifically for women in Cang Qiong Guild's but because of Shen Qingqiu's veto on recruiting other races she couldn't make it work.

Ming Fan: Tallman, 19 y/o, Mage. A cowardly young adventurer. He has a crush on Ning Yingying.

Ning Yingying: Dwarf, 51 y/o, Tank. Despite being older than him, she's Shen Qingqiu's adopted daughter whom he took in when she was merely 30 y/o. She likes her father a lot, however she can't forgive him for what he has done to Luo Binghe. (She'll leave Cang Qiong to join Shen Yuan's part at some point).

(Side note, Cang Qiong is still specialized in cultivation, hence why most of them look so young)

The Tieflings hideout:

Tieflings are a race that I made up for this AU specifically, inspired by D&D. They're inhabitant of the dungeon, tall and sturdy, with pointy ears akin to elves, horns of various shapes and tails. They can also use magic like elves, tallmen or gnomes, however their magic rely on its own set of rules.

Mobei-Jun: Tiefling, 92 y/o, King of the Northern tribe. Leader of one of the numerous tiefling tribes hidden in the abyss, he met Shang Qinghua twenty years ago in the abyss and has made him swear his loyalty to him since then. He has sensed change in the abyss since Luo Binghe's arrival, and decided to trust Shen Yuan's party to solve this issue... With the compensation of Shang Qinghua.

Sha Hualing: Half-ogre half-halfoot, 15 y/o, Princess of the Eastern tribe. Adopted daughter of the king of the eastern tribe, she's a bastard born from the forbidden union between an ogre and a half-foot and was abandoned into the abyss at birth. Of short stature, with a short life spawn, she makes up for it with her keen senses and her strength. She later on joins Shen Yuan's party.

The first Tieflings:

Tianlang-Jun: Tiefling, ??? y/o, Master of the Abyss. The master of the abyss, his powers are beyond anything imaginable. He claims to have eaten what has given him those powers and since then has known hunger beyond what any mortal could endure. He has once fell in love with a tallman woman by the name of Su Xiyan, but she has left the abyss years ago, and he doesn't know what her whereabouts are... The only thing he knows is that she's the only one capable of satisfying this hunger that eats him from the inside.

Zhuzhi-Lang: Beastman (snake), ??? y/o, Guardian of the abyss. Tasked by the Abyss' Master to protect its inhabitants, he'll kill anyone who gets in his ways indiscriminately at the exception of Shen Yuan, who saved him years ago when exploring the abyss for the first time. He only obeys the Abyss' Master orders, and because of that, has forced the Tieflings deeper and deeper into the abyss regardless of how they felt about it. As a chimera, he's more snake than the tiefling his soul has been mixed with.

Other groups:

Huan Hua's guild (the governor's guild): The one guild financed by the governor of the state in which the abyss is located. Its members are from various races. Despite the guild stating they're open to anyone, only those from a wealthy background can become a part of it.

Zhao Hua's guild: Specialized in magic. They have rounds to reanimate unlucky adventurers in the abyss.

Tian Yi's guild: Specialized in training new adventurers.

And that's it for now! What awaits them in the abyss? Many adventures and delicious cooking, that is, if Luo Binghe can handle it.

"Freed from the abyss at long last... Forced to cook the monsters with seasoning this time. I've been cursed there's no other way to explain it... Damn it, it's good though, I really am a great cook."

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[daydreamkissesxo]

Father Charlie x reader| Sinner part 2; The only piece of Heaven I have ever had

Warnings; heavy smut, breeding kink, mentions of body image, blasphemy, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, manipulative priest? (I think that’s all🙈) 18+

My link won’t work to add part 1 but I am trying!😭

Father Charlie paid you little to no attention during mass, he cruelly ignored you for the sake of his own sanity. The thought of you now sat amongst your family completely bare beneath your dress as your arousal seeps through the fabric and onto the church pew made his head spin.

You'd become increasingly agitated by his ignorance, perhaps his idea of repentance was your humiliation.

You'd began to fidget with your fingers nervously as you pray for time to pass faster, desperate for even a glimpse of his attention when he wasn’t occupied by the scriptures of the bible.

Your heart briefly stopped as you watched father Charlie acknowledge a young woman in the front row with a warm smile, a smile he'd always saved for you.

You grew both jealous and hurt, anxious that your confession had pushed him further away.

Mass had ended just as predicted, you'd barely left your seat before a swarm of persistent mothers surround you and your family, their sons left lingering behind.

"Y/N, have you given any more thought to our proposal?" One asked, pushing her way through the small crowd built around the church pew where your family sat.

You were barely present, your eyes fixated on father Charlie who carelessly fiddled with his papers at the alter as he continued to avoid your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t.” You abruptly reply, rising from your seat only to be met with the hands of another mother as she places them on your hips.

“My love, you have the most precious birthing hips I have ever seen.” She says, gesturing others to look as she nods down at them.

“No doubt a gift from god. You would bear beautiful children.” Another says, her smile warm as she looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

Father Charlie scoffed quietly in disgust as he overheard, his arrangement of the papers in front of him carelessly thrown down as he loses his care for them.

Usually he wouldn’t intervene, but your desperate confession and the unfinished business between the two of you left him with no choice.

He painted on a warm smile and walked over, the crowd immediately dispersing at his voice.

“You seem to be very popular with the precious mothers here, Y/N.” He attempted to sound sincere, though it came off slightly differently.

He saw the lingering look of upset in your eyes as your gaze met his, it was pleasant to know how desperately you longed for his attention.

“Oh Father, Y/N would be just perfect for my son. Wouldn’t you agree?” A woman asks, her eyes lit up with hope as she so greatly valued his opinion.

Of course he disagreed, nobody’s son was worthy of you but he couldn’t entirely crush her spirits due to his own jealousy.

“I’m sure he’d make a wonderful husband to any woman, but I’m not qualified to matchmake anyone here.” He kindly replied, flashing her a warm smile he knew she loved to see.

He turned his attention towards your mother who stood behind you, a kind but stern woman who undoubtedly kept you close.

“Mrs Y/L/N. Would I be able to keep Y/N behind once you leave? I have something I’d like to ask her opinion of.”

She was very trusting of father Charlie, believing that whatever it was he needed you for would only add to your worth as a self respecting Catholic.

“Of course, father Charlie. Y/N would be honoured to help.” she replied, placing her hand on your shoulder to caress it with her thumb.

“Wonderful. It may take a while, but I’ll see to it that she gets home safely.”

No words were spoken as you followed father Charlie back to his office, the silence was unnerving, and now you were left to wonder whether you'd gotten the entire thing so very wrong.

Father Charlie stood aside and held the door open, extending an arm to gesture you in.

Your heart pounded as you prepared yourself for the stern lecture you were expecting, barely able to look at him as you step in.

You jumped slightly at the slam of the door, desperately avoiding his gaze as he turned to face you.

He sensed your nerves, but chose to ignore them as he walked around you and over to his desk.

He cleared his throat, ridding the room of silence as he finally spoke.

"Take your dress off and give it to me." He simply said, removing his stole and neatly folding it before placing it onto his desk.

Such simple instructions and yet you were frozen, barely able to process what you'd just been commanded.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N?" He asked in an oddly calm tone, looking up from his semi unbuttoned cassock.

You dared to glance down at the skin that was now exposed before quickly coming back to your senses out of fear he may grow frustrated with your ignorance, frantically shaking your head.

"No, father."

Your hands fell to the hem of your dress, bunching it up before pulling it upwards and over your head to free your body of it.

Your lower half was left bare while your breasts were held by a simple white lace bra.

In the time it had taken you to remove your dress, father Charlie had discarded the garments from his upper body, leaving him only in black tight fitting trousers with a protruding bulge.

You slowly lifted your head in shame, your eyes widening a little at the sight of his beautifully toned upper body that was always so well hidden.

Your hand trembled as you held out your dress for father Charlie, he smiled so casually as he took the dress from your hands.

He was cautious not to show any dramatic physical reaction to your barely clothed body, but his cock throbbed at the ethereal beauty that stood before him.

You watched as he folded your dress as neatly as his own garments, placing it on the desk beside his vestments.

His patience and self restraint was oddly terrifying, how could anyone have such great control?

He reached for your hand, linking your index finger with his as he gently guided you to stand before him.

He took a moment to admire the beautifully soft skin that you'd always so modestly hidden, his gaze slowly falling to your waist before he very gently took hold of it.

Your hips had gained so much attention amongst the overbearing mothers of the church, and he finally understood why.

They were perfect for bearing a child, one he could only wish would be his.

"It sickens me to think your family would be willing to let such unworthy men defile their beautiful daughter.." he whispers, grazing his fingertips along your skin in search of your hip bone.

Your breath grew audibly heavier, your lips parting in awe as you gaze up at him in wonder.

"Men who would selfishly prioritise their own pleasure and leave you completely dissatisfied. You don't want that, do you?" He asks, his darkened gaze finally meeting yours.

Your heart fluttered at the intensity of his gaze, shaking your head in agreement with his words.

"Not me, Y/N. I'd worship you like I worship the Lord, you'd never live a day dissatisfied."

His hand slipped between your physically wet thighs which you slightly parted to accommodate his touch, his extended middle finger tracing over your folds.

He watched as your eyes widened, your soft gasp being all the encouragement he needed to take it even further.

He slid his finger through your slippery folds, coating it in your dripping arousal before circling your clit with the pad of his fingertip.

Your explosive moan was truly devilish, who knew something so obscene could slip past your innocently soft lips.

He brought his free hand up to your mouth, firmly holding it over your lips to silence you.

"Sh, sweet girl. People will wonder what I'm doing to you.." he chuckled sadistically, amused by the apologetic look in your eyes. 

"Is this what you fantasised about when you touched yourself like this?" He whispered, increasing the speed of his circling touch.

You whimpered against his hand, your knees threatening to buckle as you'd never felt such pleasure.

He glanced over at the small single bed he'd placed beneath a very low window, so low that if he were to continue his carefully planned sexual activity with you beneath it, someone would undoubtedly see.

He slowly withdrew his hand from between your thighs, smirking as you grew visibly upset by the sudden lack of touch.

"I want you to lay on the bed, on your back with your knees bent."

He watched as you complied despite your confusion, bringing his hand up to lips to suck at his drenched fingertip as he followed you over.

He groaned under his breath with pleasure at the taste of your sweet nectar, running his tongue along the tip of his finger to truly savour the taste.

His hands fell to the buttons of his trousers and you watched in anticipation as he unbuttoned them, the sound of the zip coming undone caused a shiver to rush down your spine.

He knew by prolonging your suffering you'd be desperate and willing to comply with anything he asked.

He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear before slipping both them and his trousers down past his hips and thighs, freeing his painfully hard cock.

Once past his calves, he stepped out of his trousers and stood at the foot of the bed before placing his hands on your knees to spread your legs.

The sheets beneath you were visibly stained as your arousal drip from your aching folds, the cold air that brush past your now exposed core causing goosebumps to spread down your thighs.

"Missionary, because we're in the lords house." He whispered as he lowered his head to press a sloppy kiss to your knee, smirking against it as he felt your knee tremble slightly.

Father Charlie knelt between your thighs, forcing them to part further to accommodate him before he places a hand beside your head to support him as he hovers over you, your folds brushing against his length.

Your body tenses beneath him as you place a trembling hand on his shoulder, staring up at him completely doe eyed with a slightly panicked expression.

"Father..we can't-"

He knew what you were going to say, yet he did not want to hear it, so instead he slid his free hand between your thighs and roughly inserted his middle and index finger into your core knowing the reaction it would gain from you.

Your breathy moan was even more explosive than before, your back began to arch and your head started to tilt back and this time, he didn't silence you.

"I'm saving you, my sweet girl. Do you want another man's dirty hands all over your precious body?" He whispers soothingly, his fingers gliding in and out of you.

"I want you, father. Only you." You moan out desperately, your walls fluttering around his fingers which forces a bead of precum to leak from his tip.

He could no longer prolong his own pleasure after hearing your desperation, withdrawing his fingers to take hold of his length to stroke it in preparation.

He bowed his head to look down at himself, aligning his tip with your hole before very slowly inserting himself.

He groaned as he felt your virginal walls stretch around him, barely able to lift his head as he was so overwhelmed with pleasure but your pained moan forced him to do so.

"You're okay, it'll pass..it's okay." he whispered reassuringly, cupping your cheek softly as he continued to push himself into you until fully inserted.

You winced in discomfort, but the pain was tolerable due to father Charlie's attentive nature.

He waited until the pain had subsided a little before thrusting into you, the moan that escaped your lips with each thrust forced out small moans of his own.

Just knowing he was taking away the privilege from whatever man your family chose to marry you made him crave more of you, he was determined to ruin you for anyone else.

His thrusts increased rapidly, eliciting almost pornographic style moans from your lips.

He watched as your clothed breasts bounced with each movement, cupping one of them before lowering his head to kiss at your collarbone.

"You've always been so special to me, Y/N." He whispered against your skin, releasing his grip from your breast to drag his fingertips down towards your core as it slips between your thighs.

Your hips naturally lifted from the bed in anticipation for his touch, whimpering loudly as his index and middle finger circle your clit at a rapid pace.

It took seconds for your legs to start jerking, your hips bucking upwards while tears flood your waterline.

"Father.." you whisper with uncertainty as your breath trembles, involuntarily throwing your head back as the unknown sensation that builds in your lower stomach grows larger.

You gasp loudly as an unfamiliar wave of pleasure washes over you, tears rolling down your cheeks as your eyes squeeze shut while your body writhes beneath him as you ride it out.

The unholy display of pleasure beneath him was a sight he’d never forget, now he understood why it was so forbidden, addiction to it would be inevitable.

The sensation of your walls tightening around him along with your desperate whimpering brought him to his own climax, yet he had no intention of withdrawing from you to release his seed.

His thrusts faltered as he began to coat your walls with his semen, bowing his head as he could barely find the strength to hold it.

His grunting drowned out the sound of your whimpers, his body slowly collapsing on top of yours while he remained inside of you.

Your body lay paralysed beneath him, panting heavily as you attempt to catch your breath while processing the fact you had unprotected sex with your local priest who didn’t seem to care.

“I..I can get a plan B..” you say timidly as you stare at the ceiling above you, wondering whether the mention of it will force him to realise what he’d done.

He somehow found the energy to lift his head up enough to look down at you, a disapproving expression replacing the pleasure filled one he had a moment ago.

“You will do no such thing, contraception is forbidden. You should know this, sweet girl.”

He had to desperately fight back the smile threatening to appear as he found it all too amusing, unprotected premarital sex with a man of the church was also forbidden though he was willing to bend those rules.

Tagging @2yeshes bc they asked me to, I hope part two meets everyone’s needs🫶🏼

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Where's Mummy?"

A oneshot fluff, entirely headcanon based, featuring all 3 of the LNDS men being a father. Requested by a lovely follower of mine. Hope this is an enjoyable read for you all. The names of the kids are based on my take, but if you want to include names of kids you had thought of with your husbandos, you may slot that in on your own will!

Want some angst? Go with this series of mine, tears guaranteed: Damnation

Warnings: Fluff as per usual however, there shall be suggestive themes for this, soooo let you imagination run free :)

RAFAYEL - FATHER TO A GIRL

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying would you?" Rafayel groaned with a smile. "Our daughter will be alright." He walked beside you, accompanying you towards the front door. "I am more worried about you with your work instead. So take care of yourself, please? For our sake?"

His concern made you rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "I will be home by evening, I promise." Your eyes stared into those mauve purple eyes of your husband's, only to have him yank you back into his arms and pressing his lips to yours again. Provocating you into a minor makeout session. Breaths becoming heavier by every passing minute.

You bit your lip the moment he pulled away, reminiscing the feeling of his soft and tender lips against yours. "Don't want you to be late, unless you want to call in sick for the day, hmm?" He winked, a hint dropped for you to decipher. "You know I can't Rafayel." Your answer made the man pout, arms crossed, but eventually surrendering to the reality of your situation. He press a small kiss against your cheek and sent you off on your way. He stood at the entryway, watching you get onto your bike and rode it out of the front yard and onto the empty streets.

Heading back in, he sat at his usual thinking corner, eyeing the piece of artwork he had yet to finish. Thomas was expecting this piece to be done by two days ago. But an artist's work should not be rushed, Rafayel being an advocate for quality over quantity. He sighed, walking over to pick up his palette stained with an array of colours, before sitting himself in front of the artwork and continued working on his piece.

Hours had passed since then, the strokes of the painter finally stopped when his artwork is finished. He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and called Thomas. "Rafayel, where the hell is the piece of---"

"It's done, you can come and collect it tonight once it is all dried up." Rafayel spoke, then Thomas started to inform him about the upcoming interviews that he has to attend, one for the local magazine, one for an exhibition taking place abroad... Pitters and patters of feet across the marble floor made Rafayel lost his focus. He turned around to find his daughter, Mariela awake. "Daddy duty calls."

The phone call ended abruptly, with Thomas ending his note on 'There was also an artwork you have to---' Call ended. Ever since Rafayel had taken on his duties as a father, he made sure his works are delayed long enough just so he could spend time with his own family. Recently, you had been called on for many more missions as there has been a shortage of deepspace hunters.

Rafayel and you had discussed about the delegation of responsibilities while being parents to a newborn. Rafayel insisted that you should quit your job so that you could stay at home with him and Mariela. Money not being any concern to your family to begin with. But you could not, you could not abandon your duties as a deepspace hunter, especially when there are not a lot of new recruits coming in.

So you both settled on a solution that meets both ends. Rafayel would delay his paintings and take care of Mariela if you happen to not be at home, but your sacrifice would be to not work past evening times. Him not wanting you to overexert yourself and still being able to spend time with you as a family. The miniature version of you and Rafayel clumsily walked over to him. Small and chubby hands rubbing her cheeks in circles.

"Good morning my little fishie." Rafayel knelt down and gave her a hug, a usual greeting for morning and night. "How was your sleep?"

"Good." She replied, arms curled around her father's neck as he carried her up in his arms. "Where is mummy?"

"Mummy has to work so today, you will hang out with daddy, yeah?" Rafayel sat her at her baby chair by the dining table. He took a plate of ready-made mini pancakes and poured a cup of warm milk into a cup. "Mummy even made you your favourite breakfast." The idea of having his kid eating such sugary stuffs in the morning is unfavoured. But since y/n had woken up extra early today to prepare the breakfast for her daughter, Rafayel will let it slide for this once. but we all know he too soft of a father to reject that if it ever happens again

Watching his child dig into the pancakes, Rafayel started allowing his mind to wander. Mariela's name came about while his wife was pregnant, and you had both agreed on wanting your child to have names related to the sea to remind the child's origins of being half-Lemurian. Rafayel was thrilled to have their names being related to the waters he used to live in and so the naming process is entirely within his control. Both of you settled on Mariela eventually, the name a direct representation of the star of the sea.

...

When y/n rode past the main gates and towards the yard, you found you husband, with your daughter standing next to him, waiting for you at the front of the door. Mariela the size of a toadstool next to her 6' tall father. But her big, doe-like eyes took the shade of Rafayel's, a mirror of his lilac-blue mixture. "Hey there!" You greeted excitedly, quickly pushing yourself off of your motorbike and rushed over to hug your daughter tightly in your arms.

"Mummy!" The brunette toddler giggled, arms wrapped around her mother and head tucked into your neck. The hug between the two was interrupted with Rafayel hugging both of them. Three of them within a circle of a hug. "Hi, mummy. I missed you."

"I missed you too, so so much." A big kiss was given to the toddler's cheek and they all walked further into the house. "What did you do with daddy today?"

"Daddy taught me how to draw fish and he taught me Wewuma." She spoke, a wide grin evident on her cherubic cheeks. This made y/n confused and you turned to look for Rafayel for an explanation but sees him being on the phone. Assuming it is Thomas on the other end of the line.

"That's good darling." You held her close to you, legs directing towards her bedroom. "But I think it is nap time for you okay? Mummy and daddy will make dinner and then later we are going to have pasta!" Mariela's eyes lit up at the word 'pasta', for she is a huge lover of carbs just like you. No doubt you two are of the same bloodline.

Once you had laid your daughter to nap, you started prepping the ingredients in the huge kitchen. Rafayel came by your side and hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent deeply. "I missed you wifey." He mumbled into the crooks of your neck and drew circles on the side of your hips.

"What is wewuma?" You turned over slightly, the question directed towards your husband. But his expression matches yours, confusion written all over his face. "Our daughter said you taught her wewuma today."

That sentence made Rafayel laughed, releasing you from his embrace and with him smacking his hand against the marble counter a couple of times. "Wewuma!" He continued his laugh, but mellowed down when he noticed that you became more confused than ever. "I taught her how to speak Lemurian." He said, the wide, cheeky grin not leaving his face anytime soon.

"Oh." Realisation hits you about his lesson for the day and you shake your head, chuckling at how your daughter had the word pronounced earlier. You can't blame her, as she is not a preschooler yet. Rafayel attached himself to your back again, his lips pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you blushed. Despite being married for quite some time, his intimate actions never failed to make you feel like a giddy teen girl.

"Lemurian is already a dying language. So, wifey..." He nibbled your ears lightly, whispering his question quietly. "How about we make one more little us?" His arms tightened around your hips and you felt something pressed against your bum, making you gasped in teasing pleasure. He turned you around forcefully and pushed you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, spreading your legs. "Right here. Tonight."

˚ · • . ° .

ZAYNE - FATHER TO A PAIR OF TWINS

"Thanks a lot, my love." You leaned forward to hug your husband, after knowing that he had planned an itinerary for you to get yourself pampered for a whole day. That includes making the necessary bookings and paying for all of the expenses. Not to mention the extra money he had given you so you may use it to buy anything you please from the mall you would be visiting later in your itinerary. "You deserve it. Given how much you had cared for the kids the past few days as I was busy with work." He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a loving gesture. "In return, I shall take care of the kids today."

Zayne fetched you to the middle of Linkon city, where all of the activities planned out in the itinerary are located before he headed back. Not wanting to go home to his toddlers being awake from their sleep. When he arrived home, he heard the creak of a door as he was placing his shoes on the shoe rack. Lumi and Iver, hand in hand, facing their father.

"Daddy?" The both of them spoke in sync, given their connection as twins. Fraternal twins, a rare occurrence for any mothers in life. They are considered a miracle given the statistics whereas out of 100 births that happen, only 2 mothers would end up with fraternal twins. And the percentage of getting fraternal twins are way lesser as compared to conceiving twins of the same gender.

Short way to put it, y/n and Zayne have a very special family, in fact they may be one of the few families within Linkon city to have a pair of fraternal twins. Hence, they are very lucky indeed. Both of the twins were named after snow or winter season, with Zayne's evol being the main inspiration. Zayne's daughter Lumi, carries the meaning of snow and light, while Iver's name means winter in French.

Contrary to their names, none of them have any features that are pale as the cold weather, except for their milky white skin. There had always been a debate on which child inherited the looks of which parent, in this case, Lumi looks like her mother and Iver takes on his father's looks. And it could easily be differentiated from their hair and eye colour.

"Both of you just woke up?" Zayne's voice was gentle, going over to both of his kids and bending down to their eye level. They are both 3 years old, so you can imagine how tough it was for him to lower his height just to meet their eyes. "What do you want to eat?"

"Daddy, can we watch you make eggs?" Iver asked, his hazel green orbs twinkled under the sun rays shining in through their sky light. "The ones that are flat?" He even used his hand to draw a line in the air, to demonstrate the word 'flat' to his father.

Zayne smiled, nodding his head and walked towards the kitchen with the two toddlers bobbing behind him. Their standard breakfast had consisted of nothing but nutritious food which are vital for their growths. For their father is a doctor afterall. Zayne sat them both into their respective baby chairs and put on an apron, not wanting to dirty his outfit, and he started to cook, with the twins watching his every move. A few 'wah' and 'daddy, daddy, do it again!' slipping from their mouths every once in a while when Zayne does something out of the blue.

Half of the day passed, Lumi and Iver sat in the living room after Zayne had given them a bath and a change of clothings. They will be heading out soon for dinner. Zayne has never been a huge fan of cooking, but only does it out of necessity. The same rule applies even now, breakfasts can be done at home but for dinners, if time allows for both of the parents, Zayne would much rather eat out with his family.

"Daddy, time! Time!" Lumi shouted from the living room when they heard the cuckoo's chime, hailing from the handmade wooden clock that you bought a while ago. Although the toddlers had yet to enter pre-school, they are both surprisingly fast-learners. 9 months in, both of them had already started learning alphabets, and by now, their vocabulary has expanded beyond the age of usual three year olds. You strongly believe Zayne's genes are the cause behind this.

Zayne appeared from the room, a long-sleeved black turtleneck clad to his well-built physique, his iconic black slacks makes yet another appearance, and his hand held a dark grey coat. The weather was getting chilly and he decided to bring along a coat for you, the colour identical to his.

"Lumi, Iver, get your coats and I will help you to wear them." Zayne instructed, picking his car key off of the key holder on the wall. He had decided to go with the Maserati Levante i am not sponsored by them but the cars does scream his taste today, a comfortable SUV for his family of four.

"It's okay daddy. Iver will help me." Lumi responded, arms held up horizontally as Iver put on one of the sleeves for her light grey coat, then running over to the other side to help her to put on the remaining sleeves. "My turn." Lumi did the same for her sibling. When they are both done, they walked over to Zayne and held their arms up in sync again, urging their father silently to help them to tie their coats.

Zayne did just that, hair as dark as the night cascading in front his face when he bent down to help his kids tied a knot to secure their coats. Satisfied at the way their knots turned out, he gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks. "Are you both excited to see mummy?"

"YES!" Both of the kids shouted, arms raising, a sign of elatedness. Zayne held onto both of their hands, one on each side and slowly walked them to the car.

...

Zayne had chosen a western restaurant for dinner, reservation timing marked at 6pm. Now, here he sat, with both of his kids secured tightly behind in baby car seats. He was parked temporarily at the valet parking, patiently waiting for his wife. Soft piano music was played in the car to ease the silence as the kids were sound asleep in the back.

Seeing a familiar figure closing in, Zayne got out of the car and walked towards the passenger side, greeting you with a warm hug. "I could not have asked for a better day to pamper myself." You sighed contently, face flat against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. A scent he would only use whenever he is out with you, a soft mix of pine wood and oakwood as the top notes, vanilla as the middle notes and cinnamon as end notes. A scent you are all too familiar with.

"Then I shall plan more of this for you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You must be hungry, I had already booked us a table at one of the nearby restaurants." He opened the car door and you got into the car. Getting into the car, he added. "The kids are sound asleep behind, I will wake them up once we arrived at the restaurant."

"Hello my babies." You greeted once the car door to the back was opened, watching your twins stirred in their sleep, before eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Iver..." Zayne cooed to his son, standing on the other side of the door, unbuckling the baby seats for the twins. "We had arrived at the restaurant. Let me give you a lift, alright?" You had never imagine Zayne with kids, given how cold he is of a person. Not mean and ignorant, but just, monotonous, quiet and calm. Having kids with him was unexpected, but him asking for kids was even more shocking.

The young man lifted his son into his arms, smoothing the back of his son's coat to make sure he is fully covered from the brazen cold wind and he headed in after locking the car. With you, holding onto your half-awake daughter behind in, walking swiftly into the restaurant.

The dinner was enjoyable, with the twins munching on to their kids meals and with you sat next to Zayne, having a delectable meal based on the waiter's recommendation. "The food here is good." You commented and your twins looked up, Lumi smiled and nodded, while Iver, with his face stuffed, nodded as well. "So what have you kids been doing today?"

"We watched cartoons." Lumi said, eyes mimicking your eye colours radiating her giddiness. You assumed the cartoons would be more educational rather than entertaining as Zayne does prefer the twins having to gain some form of knowledge from the cartoons. For him, the method is practically killing two birds with one stone. "Daddy also read some storybooks for us." Iver added in, still chewing onto his food, which made Zayne leaned forward to wipe the boy's lips clean with the napkin. "And we took a nap on daddy's chest."

"Be careful of choking, Iver." Zayne warned, his tone soft, giving him son's cheek a soft pinch. Zayne's lips tugged upwards, there is no way he could be mad at his own twins. That is how much he loves them.

"That is good to hear. Sounds like an eventful day for today. And I think daddy did a great job." You happily stated, resuming your meal. A hand on your thigh made you jerked slightly and you looked over, your husband's smile had exchanged for a smirk.

"It is my responsibility to take good care of the kids." He eyed the twins, and facing back to you, his orbs turning a shade darker. "But, it is also my responsibility to make my wife feel good. Mentally..." He trailed off, hands smoothing up your thighs till his thumb glided slowly over your intimate area. The table cloth a good disguise as Zayne's fingers worked his way to pull your panties to the side, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

You shot daggers towards your husband as this is a public area but he paid no mind to you. The tip of his middle finger, the one adorning the wedding ring, slowly pushed its' way inside of you, pumping an agonizing pace into you. "And physically, of course." pls do this to me too Zayne, i want more babies too

˚ · • . ° .

XAVIER - FATHER TO A SON

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" Lucian came bursting in through the door leading to his parent's room, causing Xavier to stir in his sleep. Eyebrows furrowed at the loud sounds of his son's voice at the early start of the weekend. The copy of Xavier jumped onto the bed and grabbed ahold of his father. "Wake up daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah I am awake now." Xavier yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other coming up to secure his son on him so he don't fall off. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy said you can take me to go get ice-cream today." His light blue eyes just a tone lighter than his father's when he propped himself up on his father's chest, patiently awaiting for a response. "Daddy please?"

"Okay okay." Xavier chuckled, hugging his son tight in his arms and the young boy laughed. With that, Xavier got out of the bed, with Lucian in his embrace. The hallways outside of the room wafted the smell of noodles and he knew immediately that you are still within the house.

But he was wrong, when he saw you being all dressed up, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting at the front of your door when you are tying the shoelaces to your sneakers. "Where are you going?" Xavier asked.

You turned at the sound of his voice and watched as Lucian was placed onto the floor by his father and the little boy came running to hug you. "I am heading to the mall with Tara for a little while. She needed me to help her pick out a dress." Standing up, you checked your outfit in the standing mirror for one last time. "At the meantime, you okay with bringing Lucian out for ice-cream?"

Xavier smiled and nodded obediently, taking long strides to press a loving kiss to his wife's lips and he sees her off. Lucian waving his small hands to say bye-bye to his own mother. "Have you eaten yet kiddo?" Xavier asked his son, only for the toddler to shake his head. "Alright, come on, let's have breakfast together. Then we will go for ice-cream later."

Xavier placed Lucian into the baby seat at the dining table and he took off the lid of the pot that was on the stove and he noticed that you had made tomato soup noodles. A dish that you had recently learned from social media. Your first try at making this dish however, was a failure. With Xavier finishing the tasteless noodles and struggling with diarrhea for the next few days. This time, he had his fingers crossed, hoping that the soup would be edible and not cause any unwanted effects.

Before giving the bowl to his son, Xavier tasted the soup base first, to taste if it would be too hot for his son to ingest. To his surprise, the soup was sweet and tangy, which marks a win for your cooking this time. He hungrily filled up his own bowl, before scooping a few spoonfuls of soup and noodles into Lucian's bowl. He also made sure to cut the noodles short enough so it would not cause Lucian to choke on his own food.

"Did mummy made this?" The 3 year old asked, eyes wide, moving in between his father's lips, and to his bear-shaped plastic bowl. Lucian have had a fair share of his father's cooking. The experience of watching his father cook was just as traumatic as eating the food his father had made. There was even this one time, Xavier nearly set the kitchen on fire because he added in some cooking wine into a very hot pan filled with oil and that made Lucian cried for the whole night.

"Yes, your mum made this." Xavier ate his noodles, slurping onto it like a champ. "If she asks me to make breakfast for you, we can just skip breakfast and go for ice-cream instead." Xavier acknowledges his incompetence when it comes to cooking, and it is the only one thing he would not dare to compete with you. he just cant cook anything that deals with fire or electric, just admit it with me boys and girls

...

"Daddy, what do you want?" Lucian asked his father, looking at the flavours that was on display. "Do you want the blue one? Or the green one? Or the red one?" He swung his short legs back and forth, all the while sitting on Xavier's shoulders. The little one did not feel like walking earlier on and that was why Xavier gave him a lift on his shoulders.

"Which one would you like kiddo?" Xavier smiled politely at the waitress behind the counter and the waitress returned the smile, a blush coming onto her face. Who would not blush at the sight of a good looking young man with a son that looks just exactly like him? "How about the blue and red one?"

"Okay!" The young boy excitedly agreed, watching the process of the ice-creamed getting scooped out of the canister and placed onto a cone. Xavier slowly lowered his son down and held onto the hand of the young boy before making the payment at the counter. "Thank you!" Lucian spoke to the cashier when the ice-cream was handed to him and they both took a seat by the window in the store, facing the streets.

Xavier had always wanted a boy, the sole purpose being he could train the son well enough so you can be protected. You were not buying into his idea to begin with but the moment you found out that you were pregnant with a boy, Xavier could not be more than glad. He was so happy to the point he said. "We should name him Lucian, as he shall be the light in our lives." Xavier's words touched your heart and since then, Lucian has been the light in both of your hearts. just like you are the light in OUR HEARTS hello?

The young boy took a lick out of the blue ice-cream, then switched to the red ice-cream and took another lick. Seeing his tongue turning purple, Xavier pointed at his son. "Your tongue is turning purple because of the ice-cream, kiddo." Taking his phone out, he took a picture of Lucian with his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. He then sent the picture to you, with the caption 'Brain Freeze'.

"Daddy, here." Lucian stretched his arm out, the ice cream in hand and held it in front of his father's face. Xavier took it as an invitation and he took a big bite out of the ice-cream. His action made the young boy flabbergasted, mouth forming an 'O' when he realised that his father just bit off a whole chunk and now he is left with a few more lick of ice cream.

The son's intense gaze at the ice-cream made Xavier felt guilty that he took such a huge bite. His son was not much a naggy child, but he still would not want to upset his little boy. "I'm sorry kiddo, I can---" He wanted to offer to buy the boy another ice-cream but Lucian only laughed, his tone amused.

"That is so funny daddy, when you go AHHH---" Lucian mimicked the way Xavier bit the ice-cream, mouth widely opened and face all crinkled up to show just how big of a bite Xavier had conducted. His son's reaction made Xavier laughed as well, Never knowing his son has such a sense of humour.

The door opened, chiming of the bells at the door could be heard and Xavier looked up, seeing you walking in with a bag in your hands. "Hey boys!" You called out and Lucian turned in his seat and called out to you, arms opened and waiting for you to hug him. Xavier took the ice-cream out of his son's hand so he would not dirty your shirt and he stood up, taking his place to stand next to you.

"How was the outing with Tara?" Xavier took the bag from you and pulled a chair over from the other table as you set your son back down onto his chair. The ice-cream that your husband was holding previously was returned to its rightful owner.

"It was eventful. We only managed to find the dress she wanted at the highest floor." You fanned yourself, sweat beading at your forehead. Your husband took a piece of tissue out of the tissue holder and he dabbed it across your forehead, not wanting to ruin your makeup since you are still on an outing with him. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Xavier purposely avoided your gaze, hiding his smile. "The tomato-based noodle soup you made this morning is very good by the way. I enjoyed every bite of it." He complimented, looking over to his son and noticing the young boy, staring out of the window, in the direction of two kids playing by the park, chasing one another.

"Daddy, mummy." Your son's voice beckoned the both of you to turn your heads to face him. His stubby little fingers pressed against the window, pointing towards the two kids at the park. "Can I have a brother?" The way he phrased the questions sounded like siblings could be bought off of a shelf. Your jaw dropped.

But Xavier was expecting this, expecting the fact he would not just settle for one child. He loves you so much, not only as his lover, but he also loves the way you look, with your stomach bulging during the days you are pregnant, carrying a miniature version of him inside. And not to mention, he enjoys the process of giving you a baby. Just the thought of seeing you pregnant again, his cerulean eyes catch yours, similar to a gaze of a predator awaiting to jump onto its prey. He reached his hand out to take yours on the table, giving it a small squeeze of comfort.

"Of course you can." Xavier's gaze darkened, hungry for intimacy. He dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, and stopping right at the back of your hand to draw mindless circles on it. Doing all that without getting his eyes off of you. "Daddy will not stop until you get a brother."

Sorry this took wayyy longer than expected, the toughest part was to find the pictures that would match the faces of the kids and also having to do research for their names and figuring our scenarios that would make the fathers take care of their kids. Other than Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier are going to be out most of the time due to their work!

But I had fun creating this piece, hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love <3

[eternalsunrise]

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

[ramp-it-up]

Anatomy of a Kiss

Summary: You and Logan agree on one thing: you both hate each other. So what happens when you kiss him?

Word count: 4.2 K

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. ONE DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILER AHEAD! Read at your own risk. S MUT! Enemies to lovers; snark to fluff, idiots in love; use of the words stupid, dumb, insipid as insults. Reader's father is either a mobster or a mutant villain, or both; (Reader may or may not be a mutant herself), a couple dark themes and mention of parent death; Reader has Daddy issues; Reader is a thicc girlie; Princess and Old Man as nicknames; there are two slaps; a tipsy kiss; povs switch thorughout the fic. pining; insinuations of masturbation, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise and degredation kink, size kink, creampie, cum play, explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up) voice kink, this Logan is Dom Logan.

A/N: This was in my soul for a couple of weeks, but I don't feel it's all that great. Here goes. Let me know if you like it by reblogging, liking and commenting please. Thank you. ☺️

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The biggest mistake that Logan Howlett ever made in his life was kissing you back.

Because now he was never going to get you out of his system. 

—--

You were celebrating.

Being being voted best small business owner and philanthropist in the city was a big fucking deal. You decided to let your hair down and let go of your famous self-control and discipline for one night.

And now you were tooted on most of a bottle of Moet and Chandon as you walked back to your high rise apartment from the civic center.

It was a perfect night and you stopped and smiled at the moon, feeling sublime. 

Until you heard his voice.

“Keep moving before I throw you over my shoulder and get you inside myself, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes at your body guard, the only thing your father offered you that you didn’t reject.

Because you weren’t stupid. 

Other than sharing his dna, you were not like your father at all, and you divested yourself of everything that had to do with him.

“What about the penthouse? You kept that.”

Your body felt engulfed as if by flames. You were angry, both at the fact that you’d apparently said all that out loud, and at Logan’s audacity.

“Fuck you, Howlett. The apartment is my mother’s. But she died because of my dad and that’s why he wants to “protect” me.”

You wobbled as you did your air quotes, and you could sense Logan ready to spring to catch you if you fell. You recovered quickly, however, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“But he can't seem to do the one thing that will protect me. Get out of the life. He’s an old man, for heaven’s sake!”

Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s not so old.”

You were in full blown argument mode.

“He’s over 70.”

“Like I said, he’s not so old. And you don’t know so much, little girl. Life is not that simple.”

“I am 32 years old, Mr. Howlett. I am not one of those little girls that fawn all over you. I am a woman.”

You straightened up and you knew that your thick body in the black cocktail dress was banging.

Logan’s eyes reflected your body, although he was staring back into yours. He’d taken it all in earlier.

“You are a teeny, tiny little Princess.”

He was fucking infuriating as he smiled down at you like that. The alcohol made you step to him.

“Someone needs to kiss that insipid smirk off your face, Howlett.”

That stupid eyebrow shot up, and your belly flipped.

Slap. You meant slap, but Logan was quicker than your champagne brain.

“I dare you, Princess.”

—-----

After what happened happened, you hightailed it back to your building, the electricity zapping around the elevator as you stared each other down. As soon as the doors opened, you moved as quickly as your tipsy legs would take through your foyer and living room and down the hallway to your bedroom door.

Logan followed you.

“Princess–”

The door slammed in his face, and he stood there for a good five minutes, restraining himself from knocking it down, before he relented and made his way back to his own room. 

He’d confront you tomorrow (later today), when you were sober.

—-

On the other side of the door, you were thinking of packing your bags and moving to South America. You needed a continent between you and Logan. How in the world had you allowed yourself to give in to a drunken urge that manifested the late night thoughts that you’d had for months? 

You were slipping. Bad.

You absolutely could not face him the next day. You leaned against the door, relieved when you heard him leave, and touched your lips. They still felt as if they were swollen from the kiss. 

You were sobering up now, remembering it. But just a few minutes ago that dare was all you needed to immediately lock your lips onto his. 

You also remembered the way he’d pulled away in shock and stared at your mouth for a beat before he grabbed your hair, pulled you close again, and kissed you so good that your toes curled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK! Fuck my life!”

You were losing control. And that was not good. Not good at all.

—

Logan couldn’t get you out of his mind. 

And that pissed him off.

He lay in bed, and thought about how, (if he could die) under penalty of death he would never admit just how often he thought about you.

He’d been glad for the room at your place that came with the job; bunking with Wade and Althea was getting real old, real fast. 

But suddenly this arrangement felt too close for comfort.

You didn’t need to know about the fact that the movie playing behind his closed eyelids during his little shower workouts every night was your sexy smile, or the way your ass filled out your jeans. Especially those black ones.

And when he thought about you wearing those jeans with that wrap around shirt that showcased your tits just right. Well, fuck. He’d have gallons of cum for the shower drain.

Nah, you knowing that would only stroke your ego. Somehow, his mind drifted to the other things of yours that needed stroking.

“Oh, Fuck all!”

He sat up and sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cigar, reason number 634 why you hated him. 

But if you hated him so much, then why did you kiss him tonight?

—---

Why did you do it? You didn’t even like Logan. In fact you hated him.

Right?

You loathed the way he called you Princess, an obvious reminder that you were a trust fund baby, although you were far from a child, and to spite the fact that you were trying to make your own way.

You hated him from the top of his ridiculous thick hair, to the soles of his huge shit-kicker boot clad feet. You hated how tall and how ripped he was, the way his arm veins threaded atop the muscles there and led the way to his thick, calloused fingers that felt so nice against your skin.

You hated the chest hair that poked out from the top of the tacky tank tops and flannel shirts he always wore underneath the ever present leather jacket, and the way his blue jeans showcased the muscles in his thighs. 

And you absolutely NEVER accidentally gazed at his crotch and ascertained that he was packing.

That would be asinine.

And his stupid face. That was the kicker. Logan’s face would be handsome if he didn’t wear that ridiculous smirk all the time on that mouth that might look nice if he was normal. 

The mouth that felt nice against yours. 

That might feel nice against your…

You groaned around your toothbrush and rolled your eyes at yourself, fully sober now after a quick cold shower. But somehow your body was still warm and buzzing.

What the fuck had you done?

— 

Logan didn’t even like you.

You were bossy, irritating, loud. 

Fuck, you were loud, always chattering away to your customers, always smiling and making them feel at home. 

He absolutely loathed the way you were trying to make your own living, despite the fact that your father was loaded. Running a food truck with the best tacos in town drew hundreds of people every day and giving away a portion of your food to the unhoused every night was what irritated Logan the most. 

More people to watch.

He was sure you did it to surround him with more people to hate. He just knew that you liked pushing his buttons. 

You just reveled in being the anti-Logan.

The more he glared, the more you glowed. 

On fucking purpose.

The kicker was you cranking up the karaoke machine on Thursday nights and belting it out to Journey or REO Speedwagon. It was so annoying. 

Especially the way you closed your eyes and swayed to the music during the bridge. The happy look on your face wasn’t beautiful at all, it was simple, and he didn’t memorize every curve of your face because it was a dumb one.

He couldn’t get away, because he had three months left on the security contract your father signed with him.

It was unfortunate, because you just wouldn’t shut up.

Except when his tongue was in your mouth.

No. 

Even then, you made noises. 

Those delicious little moans that vibrated down his spine and made his dick harder with every second. Moans that made him see visions of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Moans that gave him a waking dream of you giving him head, and…

Fuck, now Logan had a raging hard on and could not sleep for the life of him. 

He really did not like you.

—--

Kissing Logan had you in a tailspin. 

You punched your pillow as you tossed and turned in bed and conjured positive thoughts.

You could forget this.

Pretend it never happened.

Convince yourself that he didn’t taste like heaven and hell and the best fucking thing in a long time.

You could forget.

It was fine.

Everything was just fucking fine. 

All you had to do was completely forget the way he made you feel when he slid his tongue into your mouth. It was easy. 

Except you were wet as fuck. 

“Listen, bitch. You are not doing me any favors right now,” you mumbled to your cunt. 

She didn't care. 

Your pussy just continued to clench on air as if to say, “He’s right down the hall. Let’s just go finish what we started.”

You groaned and tried to smother yourself with your pillow.

It didn’t work.

—-

Logan just kept thinking of the way you stared at him between kisses. Lips parted on a gasp, plump and soft, right before he'd slipped his hand on your neck and kissed you again. Now your taste haunted him.

Logan huffed and put his head in his hands. Flashes of the kiss played like a movie in his head. Finally, he stood up and went to his door, ready to settle this once and for all.

When he opened it, there you were, in just a black camisole and panties, and god, did he want you.

But there was your mouth again.

“I fucking hate you.”

The problem with that was, he could smell you. You might be saying that you hated him, but your body was calling him right now. And Logan’s knees were weak at the power of his lust.

When you looked him in the eye, you licked your lips, your eyes dilated, your nipples tightened into stiff peaks, and your pussy weeping for him, Logan knew it was the end of the line of his self-restraint.

You smelled delicious, like your mandarin orange body wash and your wet-for-him cunt. 

He stepped toward you and you slapped his face, leaving him with a grin on his face.

Then you slapped him again.

“You got it out of your system now? That anger?”

He cocked that damned eyebrow at you and moved even closer. 

“Or is it frustration?”

——

You were in trouble now.

Not because you were scared Logan was going to hurt you.

Just the opposite.

Logan dipped his head to smell at your pulse point, body so close, but never touching you. Your arms went to grab his impossible shoulders and that's when his huge paws grabbed your hips, dragging you further into his room as he backed toward his bed.

He was full on nuzzling your neck now, and your eyes were rolling as the tension between you two was finally ebbing.

The words came tumbling out.

“I’m so fucking angry that you get me so frustrated, you ass..”

You were turning your head toward his, wanting his lips again, on his lap now, crotch sat on his unbuttoned jeans, and refusing to move to ignite the fire.

Logan grunted at you.

“I see that. You’re trying to stare me down even though you are leaking all over me.”

Your body clenched and got wetter at the naming of that fact. You were terrified of what might happen next.

Yet you wanted it so badly.

——

Logan couldn’t wait any more.

He removed one hand from gripping the flesh at your hips that he’d fantasized about for months, to trailing up your cheek to your hair to take off your scarf.

His fingers were in your hair again and your eyelids stuttered as you mouth dropped open for air.

That made him so fucking hard. And it made him want to kiss you again.

He had to know.

“What are you here for, Princess?”

——

His sexy whisper would do you in.

For good.

“I don’t know.”

Logan was staring at you like you were the treasure chest at the end of a quest as you tried to remain as still as possible on his lap. It was so hard.

Logan was so hard beneath you.

“Oh? Let’s run it back to earlier when you weren’t letting that big brain of yours get in the way.”

Frustration surged within you and your mouth got reckless.

“Stop yapping and just do it already.”

——-

“There’s my girl,” Logan growled at you as his dick responded to the challenge and his eyes flashed at your tone.

“Always busting my balls, aren’t you? Need to give that smart mouth something else to do.” 

Before you could reply, Logan’s lips covered yours so perfectly that it was like magnetic puzzle pieces. You fit together and locked. 

Logan’s tongue traced your lower lip and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling, gently at first and then nipping more harshly, causing a gasp and enabling entry. His tongue swiped at yours as he dominated you.

You were not going to win this round.

——

You could only whimper and grab his shoulders tighter as he kissed you. For all that was holy, why did his kisses have to be so damn good?

One of your hands ventured into the thick hair you’d dreamt of feeling between your fingertips and pulled as your desire peaked. Then your palms went to his face as he pulled away and you squirmed as you realized what was about to happen. 

“What are you here for, Princess?”

That question again.

That voice. It rumbled straight to your core and Logan wasn’t letting you off the hook. 

Logan wasn’t letting you up off of him. 

The hardness of his metal button and zipper, but mostly him (oh god he was huge) chaffed your thighs as he sealed his lips over yours again and his hand went from your scalp down your neck and back to your hip again, holding you down to feel him.

You finally moved, smearing your wetness all over your panties and his jeans and Jesus, it felt so good.

——

Logan’s eyes took in all of you in your scanty clothing, following your every movement and when his eyes moved down to your damp panties he swallowed audibly. He clenched his jaw with the strain of holding back.

Logan couldn’t deny that he wanted you. His 200 year old heart felt brand new.

“Mmmmph. Here for this feeling Logan.” 

Your voice was the greatest symphony. His stomach clenched when you looked him in the eye.

“I’m here for you.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek with your nose, then whispered a demand in his ear.

“Touch me, Logan.”

Without thinking, but instinctively careful of you, Logan’s claws extended, shredding the sides of your panties and rendering them in pieces. 

“Fuck!”

You gasped as he stood up with you in his retracted grip and threw you on the bed, the scraps of your underwear abandoning you.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, he was so weak for you. He was on his knees at the foot of the bed as he ran his rough hands up and down your legs.

——-

“I’m touching you, now what?”

He spoke to you, but he was looking at the juncture of your thighs, at the well-manicured hair there, all casual, as if he weren’t teasing the hell out of you.

You had something for him.

“If you don’t know what to do, then I’ll show you.”

You reached up and took off your camisole and Logan’s eyes raked upwards and widened at the sight of what you were holding, which was your breast in one hand, as you pinched and rolled your own nipple. Your other hand trailed down your body as your legs fell open to give yourself access to your clit, which you had the nerve to play with in front of Logan’s face. 

——

Now he was the one who was angry.

Logan snarled, then batted your hand away.

“Careful Princess. Don’t poke the Wolverine.”

His hands tightened on your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he was.

———

Logan leaned down, his hot breath ghosting your pussy as he looked up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. 

You couldn’t let the moment get too tender.

“What if the Wolverine wants to poke–”

Logan’s hand covered your mouth, cutting you off at just the moment he licked a long, hot, wet stripe up the center of you and then pursed his lips around your clit to suck at you ruthlessly.

Your smart ass remark was forgotten as a moan bubbled up into your throat. Logan took his hand away once it was clear that you couldn’t talk anymore, or at least that your capacity for sass had diminished. 

You were leaning up on your elbow and watching him feast on you, convulsing with each swipe of his broad tongue and each pull on your clit.

As mesmerized as you were at his skill, you managed to brush his thick dark hair away from his eyes so that he could see properly. You didn’t want anything getting in the way of the best head you’d ever received.

——-

Logan’s hands were now palming the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten; you were practically sitting on his fingers. For him, you tasted even better than you smelled. He couldn’t believe it.

He looked up at you incredulously, watching your breasts moving with each heave of your lungs trying to capture air, and your mouth open to capture it. He met your eyes and frowned at you as he reached down and stroked his pulsing cock.

“What’s wrong?”

“The fucking Cuties you eat all day long. They got you tasting like a fucking orange. ‘S fucking impossible.”

He yanked you closer and buried his face between your legs. You made those cute little noises with every swipe of his tongue, and he licked and sucked until you convulsed in his hands, screaming.

You were still trying to catch your breath before he was on you, licking and suckling your hard and soft breasts.

“Damn,” you murmured as Logan swiped his thick, bulbous head into your entrance and meeting resistance, “You’re so fucking huge Logan.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that phrase, but coming from you it hit different. His chest puffed with pride.

Logn smiled into your neck, inhaling your scent and growling against your skin.

“Don’t be scared, Princess. I’ll make it feel good for you. I should be more worried than you are. I’m gonna split you open, but you are about to shatter me into a thousand pieces.”

He didn't mean to tell you the absolute truth. But he had.

Logan knew there was no coming back from this for him.

——

You shuddered at the words which were breathed over your skin.

Logan trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of your neck the looked you in the eye. It was too much.

You lowered your gaze and he chuckled, making you sigh when he tugged on your lobe with his teeth and started pushing inside you. It was slow, but sensual and somehow still desperate. 

With each increment of himself that he gave you, you felt destroyed, yet you wanted more. You clutched at his chest as you widened your legs for him, as if that would help.

“No one else has ever made me feel this way. Hurts so good, Logan. More. Please?”

The question was, were you just talking about his penis?

——-

You begging him made Logan want to cry as he slipped further inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both shuddered, you at the sensation of such fullness, and him at the way you were so snugly and warmly wrapped around him.

“Fuck! Princess. Should have known you would be hot and tight. But I wasn’t ready.”

Logan wasn’t ready for you at all.

—-

His pupils were completely blown and the look on Logan’s face made you clench down even tighter as he stroked deeper into you. 

“Y-yess, feels so good.” 

You felt like liquid in his arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders as you hitched your thigh around his hips. He ran his hand up your thigh and around to your leg, holding you in place as he began to pound into you harder.

You whispered a confession into his ear.

“I’ve dreamed about this so many times.” 

Logan lifted his head from watching his cock destroy you, his brow arched in surprise. 

“You’ve dreamt about me?” 

You bit your lip and nodded, all of a sudden feeling shy. 

“At night after a tense night between us, I’d go to my room and imagine that you’d follow me to…shut me up.”

Your lashes fanned your face as you smirked.

“Oh yeah?”

Logan swiveled his hips and you gasped. He was lighting you up from the inside.

“Sounds like a cool dream, Princess,” he said, leaning down to your ear.

“But you’re talking far too much in reality.”

And he began snapping his hips at a frenzied pace, causing your back to arch and your mouth to fall open, leaving you moaning until you screamed with your orgasm.

You couldn’t talk; hell you couldn’t even think when he was going like this.

——

At this point, there was no more finesse; Logan was stroking in and out of you, almost completely leaving you and reentering just to feel that sensation again. The way his fat cockhead breached you was like no other feeling in the world.

Your arched back was displaying your breasts to him at a perfect angle. It inspired something within him.

“Look at you Princess. All gorgeous and fucked out and taking this cock for me. All dumb now. Bet you like not having to think so much. Just take it like the good little slut you are for me, yeah?”

His filthy commentary made the coil in your belly snap, and you came like a freight train, squeezing him so much that he had pull out to keep from coming himself.

He kissed you as you could only whimper in protest. Logan felt a warmth blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, if at all, as you lay melted in his arms.

He couldn’t wait to be back inside you.

“Can’t tell you how many times I dreamt about having you under me just… like… this….”

And he slid back home.

“Mmm… those lips down there suck my tip so well, how will these lips do?”

Logan’s thick thumb was in your mouth and you swirled your tongue around it to show him what your mouth could do. He groaned and pried your mouth open with his hand.

“Keep it open and do what I say.”

——-

The band was tightening in your belly again. You knew what was coming and nearly came again when Logan spit into your mouth. The orgasms were blending together now.

“Swallow.”

You did, and Logan thrust into you hard an deep while thrumming your clit. That was all it took for you to cum again and this time, you gushed around him, making a mess on his bed.

He looked down in disbelief and laughed with glee, handling you like a fuck doll to do with as he pleased.

That's when you realized that you loved being used by him.

“Bet ya didn’t dream you’d be such a dirty little slut for me, did ya, Princess?”

——

Logan realized that he was your slut, too. He was lost to your sounds, the sight of your beautiful lust drunk face, and the feeling of your cunt squeezing him with multiple orgasms now.

He started tracing urgent circles on your clit again.

“Look at me.”

That’s when you said the most beautiful words to him.

“So fucking good L-Logan. Cum inside me. Please. ‘M on the pill.”

“Music to… my fucking.. ears….”

——

Logan’s fingers moved to your shoulders, holding you captive as he stroked deeper and harder. His harsh breaths in your ear increased, the most erotic sound in the world.

You clamped down on him and he growled, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, the warm wave of fluid combing and causing a lovely, filthy mess.

It was so satisfying.

And you couldn’t let it lie.

——

He pulled out and stared at the ceiling in disbelief, before looking over at you to find you playing in his cum and licking your fingers, leaning over to give him a taste on your lips.

“What? You tired, Old Man?”

He shook his head and laughed as his cock came back to life.

Kissing you back had been the biggest mistake of his life.

He was never going to get you out of his system.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

-----

You shivered as Logan loomed over you, with that damned eyebrow cocked and that smirk on his face.

“Oh Princess. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Then Logan grabbed you and kissed you again.

——

Reblog if you enjoyed it! 🥰

[moonstruckme]

hello mae baby please may you write a fic with anyone u like with a reader who is really drunk and the other person is taking care of her and she thinks she is annoying and they ar like why would u think that i love looking after u and some tenderness maybe with mauruaders but actually with whoever you’d like mae u are so nice and lovely and kind bye bye’!!!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much for requesting!

cw: alcohol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You know Remus is reading when you get home, because he doesn’t call for you and you are not quiet as you come inside. You drop your keys while trying to hang them on the hook, your bag bounces off the chair you toss it onto and falls noisily onto the floor, and your body lists as you walk towards your bedroom so that you bump your shoulder into the wall not once but twice. Your entry is a series of clatters and crashes and clunks, and yet when you make it to the bedroom your boyfriend’s attention is glued to his book as though by hypnosis. 

“Hi.” The word curves with the smile that takes you, tilting upwards. Remus looks up. 

“Hi, dovey.” He blinks foggily, taking you in with your hip leaned against the doorjamb and your ankles crossed awkwardly. “How was book club?” 

You feel your smile widen with delight. “It was great,” you profess. You aim for him, and Remus takes his book in one hand, holding the other out like he means to catch you. You land on the edge of the bed on your stomach, your feet dangling just above the floor behind you. “Everyone loved my banana bread.” 

“A show of good judgment,” Remus hums. He reaches behind you, helping you get your shoe off. “Is there any left?” 

One shoe comes free, and you let your foot fall back. “Mm, there was, but I left it for Maria.” 

Remus stops messing with your other shoe to look at you disappointedly. 

“I know, but she hosted! I had to be nice. I’ll make you another one soon.” 

He sighs, but it’s for show. Your other shoe slides off. “Fine, I suppose since she hosted.” 

“I knew you’d get it.” You pull your legs onto the bed and sit up, grinning at your boyfriend. He likes to play at selfishness, but you know he’d have done the same. Even if you’d asked, he would have told you to leave the bread. And he breaks easily now, returning your smile with one of his own. It feels like a warm tide rushing over you. 

“Oh. I feel like I should also warn you, I had quite a bit of wine.” 

Remus’ tongue presses into his cheek, a sort of outward-poking dimple. “Did you?”

“A little,” you say coyly, looking at him through your lashes. “It was sparkling and really yummy, what was I supposed to do?” 

“A valid point.” 

“So that’s just your warning. You’ve been warned.” 

“I will proceed with caution,” he assures you, a warmth to his voice. “What did everyone think of the book?”

“Oh.” You raise your eyebrows at him excitedly. “There was controversy. Big controversy. I super loved it, but a lot of other people thought it was the worst one she’d done so far!” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. They made some valid points, but I don’t know, maybe I’m easy to please, but I didn’t care about any of that stuff as much as I cared that I’d had a good time reading it, you know? And then everyone was giving their rankings of her books, and there were just some really crazy choices. Some people thought her second one was the best!” 

“No.” Remus manages to look upset for your sake, though he’s only heard about the books from you. “Did they really?” 

Your smile blooms anew at his enthusiasm, and you feel, suddenly urgently, that you’re not close enough to him. You move into his lap, but that’s not good enough either. At this point, Remus is looking at you with a fond, bemused sort of intrigue. You must be predictable enough, because only a soft puff of laughter exhales him when you start to worm your way under his sweater. 

It’s warm. You consider, for a moment, simply staying in there, with Remus’ chest and his smell and the sound of your own breathing, but ultimately decide you’d like to see him, too. You’d miss him too much. 

“Hello,” he says, not unhappily, as you break the surface of his neckline.

“Hi,” you say back. 

“To what do I owe this visit?” 

You shrug. It’s an odd movement, one of your shoulders stretching his sweater while the other bumps against his chest. “I wanted to be with you. It’s quite nice in here.” 

Remus only hums, tilting his head down to kiss your nose. It’s a slow, fond kiss, like he’s just decided to rest his lips there for a moment or two. It sends pleasant warm tingles from your face all the way down to your fingertips. 

“What else did you talk about?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“In book club.” 

“Oh. Well, not everyone there had read her other books, so we had to sort of get into the patterns and the things she always does. Some of it was routine for us, but totally unexpected for them, which makes sense I guess because…” 

You go on in circles and loops that even you can’t keep track of, your mind lax and happy and your lips moving seemingly on autopilot. You talk about the book itself and the people you read it with, and about the girl who’d hosted and how she’d had the cutest dog you’d ever seen, and does Remus remember that time you went to the animal shelter and saw that adorable puppy? Well, you mean no offense to the puppy because he was very cute, but this girl’s dog is even cuter than that. 

It’s an incalculable stretch of time later that you realize Remus has put down his book. 

“Oh, my god.” You lean your forehead on his shoulder. When you close your eyes, you feel like you’re floating. You really must be worse than you thought. “I’m so sorry. You were trying to read.” 

“Before you got home, yeah,” says Remus, his tone indulgent, “but now I’m talking to you.” 

“Yeah, because I won’t shut up because I’m all drunk,” you lament. “I know how annoying that is.” 

“Hey.” Your boyfriend’s voice is tender. “Who said anything about that? I’m not annoyed.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, sweetheart. Why would you assume that I was? I love talking to you.” 

You try to look up at him, and your nose bumps his chin violently. “Oh.” You try to draw back, but there’s nowhere to go. You’re confined to the neckline of Remus’ sweater. One of your hands snakes up to touch clumsily at his chin. “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

Remus tsks, his own hands coming on either side of your face to hold you still. “Don’t worry, I’m alright. Are you?” He runs a thumb gingerly over the bridge of your nose. 

It’ll probably bruise a little tomorrow, but that’s not something you’re going to tell him tonight. “Yeah,” you say meekly. “Thanks for dealing with me. It’s really nice of you.” 

“Oh, don’t,” he shushes you, pressing another gentle kiss to your nose. “I’m not being nice, sweetheart. And you’re not something to be dealt with. I love looking after you; it doesn’t cost me anything to do it.” 

You try to shrink down inside his sweater, and Remus tsks. 

“Tell me this, if I was blackout and legless, would you mind chatting with me and taking care of me?” 

“I’m not blackout drunk, Rem.” 

“For argument’s sake, let’s say.” 

You press your lips together, not wanting to concede the argument but your answer categorical. “No.” 

“Right, because you’ve done it before.” Remus looks at you with equal parts kindness and knowingness. “And were you annoyed with me then?” 

You’re almost offended he’d ask. “Of course not.” 

“I see.” His tongue pokes into his cheek again, lips quirking slightly. “Seems like that sort of thing might go both ways, no?” 

You push your face into his neck and sigh hard into his skin, making a little sound bubble up in his chest that sounds suspiciously giggle-esque. 

“You don’t always have to be right, you know.” 

“I usually am, though.” He wraps his arms around his own front, giving you a squeeze. “Best settle into that fact, dovey. It’ll make things much more efficient for us both.” 

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

[girlokwhatever]

PLEASE 🙏 paige x reader where they are in a situationship and reader is jealous

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡ that should be me,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

yeah, you definitely hated her. you didn’t know her, but you fucking hated her.

you sat across the table from paige, secretly stealing glances of her and some other girl you had never met before in your life. you can’t even recall anyone mentioning her before tonight, but apparently she was close enough friends with aubrey to be invited to her birthday dinner.

you didn’t like her at all. her jokes always missed and killed the vibe, she said random out-of-pocket things every five seconds, and she had this insanely high-pitched laugh. or maybe you didn’t like her because of the way she was touching paige’s arm.

either way, she was running your last nerve thin.

you had arrived to the restaurant with paige, your held hands being separated once you walked inside. you and paige had something going on and most of your friends knew, poking fun and teasing you every now and then. you both wanted to take it slow since both of your schedules were busy, but you definitely wouldn’t say either of you were single.

she was your situation.

you wanted to sit next to her at the table but the plans had quickly changed when this girl insisted on sitting there. you had been halfway into the seat when her hand landed firmly on your shoulder, shaking to get your attention.

that was the moment that started it you think. that and the flirtatious touches. you thought it was so obvious what she was trying to do, but apparently paige didn’t pick up any of the cues.

it was embarrassing for you and her. here you were with all your friends on aubrey’s birthday night, watching as another girl practically groped paige six feet into her seat. the worst part was paige never did or said anything along the lines of ‘stop.’

you have the thought that it should definitely be you sitting next to paige right now. it could’ve been you and it should’ve been you. she may not be your girlfriend, but she is your something. you wish you could hold her hand under the table instead of having to watch the insufferable sight of another girl touching her.

“is this your natural hair? it’s really pretty.”

your eye twitched watching the scene unfold, eyes tracking the girl’s finger as it twirled around a strand of paige’s hair.

“nah, not the color. the waves are all mine though,”

paige smiles, flicking her hair over her shoulder. the girl laughs again, the high-pitched squeal ringing in your ear. the crazy thing is, nothing paige said was even funny, the reason for the girl’s laughter had flown straight over your head. if she was close enough, you think you might reach across the table and drag her to the floor.

her peppy laugh. her wandering and lingering gaze. the unnecessary touches. the-

“can i give you my number? i’d really like to hangout sometime y’know?”

you couldn’t even bear to stay for paige’s answer, excusing yourself from the table. your chair squeaked loudly against the floor, grabbing the attention of anyone who hadn’t already noticed you.

the girl turns to paige, wide-eyed, “is she okay?”

your anger boils over at her remark, wishing for both of your sakes she’d just kept quiet. it was infuriating watching her turn to paige and talk about you, right in front of your own face.

“are you serious-”

“i think she just has to use the bathroom,” paige gives you a look, one that you can only decipher as ‘no.’ “and the bathrooms are that way.”

she points you in a direction, one that you allow yourself to blindly follow. you just needed to get away from that table, too irked by that girl to think straight. you kept telling yourself that she couldn’t ruin the night, aubrey’s big night for that matter.

you’re leaning against the bathroom sink when a knock sounds on the door. it makes you jump out of your thoughts, assuming it’s just some random person needing to take a piss.

“i’ll be out in a second!”

“hey, it’s me.” you’d recognize her voice in a crowd of hundreds, something so distinct about it. you can’t deny it makes your heart flutter knowing she chased after in a sense, showing that she does in fact care.

you unlock the door for her, letting her slip through the frame before sealing it off again. she locks it for you, never even taking her eyes off of you.

“what was that?!”

she’s whisper-shouting, getting closer to you. it shocks you, not expecting that reaction from her. you wished maybe she’d acknowledge what was actually happening at that table for the last half-hour, but of course she can’t.

“seriously? are you serious?”

“yeah i’m serious. you looked like you wanted to rip her head off the whole time.”

you roll your eyes, “oh spare me please. she’s insufferable.”

you don’t even care how much attitude you’re using to rebuttal her, more concerned with the fact that she’s defending the girl. did she know what she was doing? was it all on purpose?

“she’s nice,”

“yeah i’m sure she is.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’m sure it is nice when she touches you like that.”

she blinks. once, twice, three times before speaking. she gets a smug grin on her face like it’s funny or something, watching the way your forehead creases from being downturned so long. she feels bad really, but it’s still amusing to see you like this.

“oh, that’s what this is about.”

“what- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you’re jealous.”

her hands find your waist, tugging you into her chest. after rolling your eyes into tomorrow you decide it’s not worth it to fight about it and she’s right anyway. you succumb to her affection, matching it equally when you wrap your arms around her stomach.

“can’t believe you’re jealous. it’s kinda hot.”

“whatever. tell her to stop eye-fucking you in the middle of the restaurant. it’s nasty.”

paige admires your honestly, realizing how strongly you both feel even though it’s nothing more than a situationship. she wants to ask you out but figures a restaurant family bathroom probably isn’t the best place.

“maybe i should be the one jealous. you’ve been so focused on her talking to me you didn’t realize i’ve been looking at you the whole time.”

you’re silent, head resting against her chest to hide embarrassment. the affect she has on you is insane and you both know that, a simple fact paige takes advantage of frequently. she feels your arms tighten around her and in response shifts your hips closer to her own. she never feels like you’re close enough.

she kisses the top of your head as you shift together in unison. she wishes she was brave enough to ask you out. it’s not like you’re going to say no.

as her own version of reassurance, paige pulls you into a kiss and waits until she feels you kissing back. it’s slow and sensual, both of you taking time to relish in the moment, as confusing as it may be. when you pull away, she finds solace in your body, resting her forehead against yours.

“yeah whatever. i’m going back to eat my dinner. but next time she touches you i’m flipping my shit if you don’t say something.”

“what am i supposed to say then, hm?”

“that you have a girlfriend.”

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡

here’s this short lil fic because i felt bad for depriving yall 😔

but i love you guys and hope you enjoy 🤭🤭🤭

I HAVE NOT YET SPELL CHECKED!!!

also i’m so sorry for slacking on the requests you guys (this is an older one) i’m gonna try to work on some tomorrow!! (emily content 🤭)