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rottenfyre · 2 months ago

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⸻ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ꜱ ɪ ꜱ ᴛ ᴇ ʀ ⸻

Pairing: Poly Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa x Targaryen Reader

Summary: They were your siblings. They loved you to their bones. They always been there, watching, protecting you, caring for you. It's only fair if they take you first, don't you think?

Warning: +18 contact, Minors DNA, Foursome, Fem on Fem, Targcest.

Notes: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The heat of the room was stifling, your skin glistening with sweat as you were trapped between your siblings’ bodies. The heady scent of arousal filled the air, a mixture of sweat and sex that made your mind spin. Baelon lay beneath you, his hands gripping your waist, as he thrust his hips between your legs. You were already so stretched and sore, your inner walls fluttering around him as you tried to adjust to the thick length inside of you.

“B-Baelon, it’s... t-too much,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with each desperate breath. Your words were met with a low, guttural laugh from him as he thrust up into you, filling you to the hilt.

Alyssa’s soft, comforting voice was the only tether you had in the whirlwind of sensation. “It’s alright, sweet sister,” she murmured, her fingers gently brushing away the tears that streaked your flushed cheeks. Her mouth was hot against yours, tongue coaxing you into a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming. “We’re here for you... we’ll take such good care of you.”

Your whimpers were muffled as Alyssa’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth to her chest. Pinned between them, you were barely able to catch your breath. Alyssa, straddling Baelon’s face, let out soft moans as she ground her hips down, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Don’t worry, darling,” she purred. “Just focus on me. Let them do all the hard work.” She guided your lips to her nipple, her voice soft and soothing as if she were trying to comfort you. “That’s it, good girl… suck on my tits while our brothers take care of you.”

You obediently took her breast into your mouth, your lips closing around the stiff peak as tears welled in your eyes. The sensation of Aemon slowly pushing into your other entrance sent shivers up your spine. His cock was thick, and every inch felt like it was splitting you apart. You gasped against Alyssa’s skin, your muffled cries vibrating through her chest.

Alyssa smiled down at you, cupping your cheek as she looked into your teary eyes. “You’re doing so well for your first time, my sweet,” she whispered. “I know it’s a lot, but you can handle it. We’re all here to take care of you, aren’t we?” Her words were soft, but the glint in her eyes was anything but gentle.

Aemon’s hands tightened around your hips, pressing you further down onto him until he was buried to the hilt inside your tightest hole. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Relax, little one… just breathe. I want to feel you loosen up around me.” He reached around to play with your swollen clit, the overstimulation making your back arch and your mouth pull away from Alyssa’s breast as you cried out.

“N-no more,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding through you. Your entire body was trembling, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “Please… I c-can’t—”

“Hush now,” Baelon interrupted, his voice a low growl as he thrust up into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot that made your vision blur. “You can and you will. We’ve only just started, sweet sister. We’ve waited so long for this… for you.” He punctuated his words with deep, steady thrusts, making you mewl pathetically.

Alyssa’s lips were on yours again, her kiss fervent and possessive as she swallowed your desperate moans. “You’re ours, my love,” she cooed against your mouth, her voice a soft murmur of sweet poison. “Just let go… let us have you.”

Pinned between the relentless thrusts of Baelon beneath you and Aemon behind you, you were utterly helpless. Alyssa’s hands caressed your body, her fingers gently tracing the marks left by her brothers. The sight of you, so thoroughly debauched, sent shivers of delight through her. “Look at you,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “So beautiful, so perfect for us.”

Aemon’s movements became more urgent, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you from behind. “Gods, you’re so tight… you’re squeezing me like you don’t want to let go,” he groaned, his voice rough with barely contained need. “Do you hear how wet you are? How much you love this?”

Your moans turned to broken sobs as your body betrayed you, every nerve on fire. “I-I can’t… I’m so full, please… I can’t take anymore,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks. But even as you begged, your body was clamping down on them, your walls spasming around Baelon and Aemon as if desperate to keep them inside.

Alyssa’s fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at her through your teary eyes. “Oh, but you can,” she whispered with a smile, her eyes gleaming with delight. “You’re doing so well, little sister… just a bit more. You’ll take everything we give you, won’t you?”

“Yes, y-yes… just please…” Your voice was barely a whisper, broken and pleading as you tried to catch your breath.

Baelon’s thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he chased his release. “That’s it, take it, take all of it,” he grunted, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you down.

Aemon’s hips slammed into you one last time as he spilled deep inside you, his hot seed filling your already overwhelmed body. You could feel it leaking out even as Baelon followed, his own release flooding your core. Alyssa held you close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered sweet nothings, her fingers tenderly wiping away your tears.

“There now,” Alyssa cooed, her voice soft and soothing as your trembling body tried to recover from the onslaught. “See? You did it, my sweet. You were perfect.”

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

��i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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gravegoer · 2 months ago

Note

DAMN!, YOUR WORKS ARE JUST *CHEFF KISS* 💞💖💖

We love our girl sevika ! Can we maybe get an scenario where her oblivious and caring reader gets hurt at the bar by some creep and they start crying.

I need a big strong woman to defend me 😩��

Princess ☾⋆

thank you !! im glad you guys like my oblivious reader !! so here's some of sevika coming to your defense <333 [WARNING: VIOLENCE]

visit my masterlist

You and Sevika took a trip to the last drop, sitting by her side while she played a game of poker. Her mechanical arm was slung around your shoulders, and in her other hand, she held a few cards along with her cigarillo between her middle and pointer finger.

She had a good hand, chuckling to herself as the man across from her ultimately gave up, throwing his cards on the table. When she laughed, you could see the smoke waft out of her nose. You watched as she threw her own cards down, now bringing up her cigarillo to her lips to take a drag. She flicked some ash to the side and stubbed it out on a very worn ash tray.

The man who was obviously irritated cursed at Sevika, "I ain't givin' you no fuckin' money. Shit is rigged."

He crossed his arms almost like a child who got told off for staying up too late. Sevika groaned in displeasure at the mans words, "I am not in the mood for this."

"Neither am I lady!"

Sevikas lip twitched in annoyance before turning to you who was still tucked under her arm, "Why don't you go grab us a drink princess," She spoke to you, trying to lessen the frustration in her voice.

Her calloused hand rubbed at your knee before pulling her opposite arm away from your shoulders. You looked at her with concern in your eyes, and she motioned with a tilt of her head towards the bar. On that note, you got up, brushing swiftly past the man across from her to get to the bar counter across the room.

You could hear the mans booming voice yell something else at Sevika and the unmistakable sound of Sevika's mechanical arm hitting the table with a loud bang. The rest of their argument faded into the distance as you walked up to the bar. "Hey, can I get two whiskey sour's?" You hollered at the bartender.

He gave a nod of understanding before turning around to whip up your drinks. You didn't even bother to take out any coins, as you knew it was going on Sevika's tab.

A lanky but somewhat toned man sat down beside you. He was wearing a sleeveless vest paired with some black jeans. "You here all by yourself gorgeous?" He questioned in a sultry tone.

You shivered at his words. Usually, when people came up to you, they were less.. forward. Before you could respond, two drinks were slammed down on the table in front of you before the bartender walked away to tend to another customer.

"Aw, and you got a drink for me. How thoughtful," The mans rank breath hit your face, and you scowled when he picked up one of the drinks before taking a swig.

"No... I'm here with someone, sorry—" Your statement fell short as the man scooted his stool closer to yours.

He leaned into your face, the stench of alcohol invaded your nose. Cringing, you moved, upper back hitting the back of the stool. You could see his eyes inspecting the curves of your face, trailing down to your lips, then lower.

You put your hands on his shoulders in retaliation, "Please, im trying to get back to–"

His clammy hands gripped your legs, now smirking down at you. He trailed his fingertips up your thighs before you jumped up out of your seat, pushing him away from you.

He huffed as you stumbled back, almost tripping on the leg of your stool. You didn't say anything as you stepped away from him. When you turned to Sevikas table, you felt his hand on your wrist. Fuck. She wasn't sitting at the table anymore. A wave of panic washed over you. A small tear rolled down your face.

But before he could pull you backwards a large figure swiftly ran up beside you and a loud thwack was heard behind your head. The thwack of a fist colliding with flesh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pulling your now free hand to your chest. Hearing a familiar mechanical whirr from your side, you opened your eyes to look at Sevika's large form towering over the man. The veins in her neck were popping, her jaw clenched. Her fist had connected straight into the mans jaw.

His body was slumped over the bar, knocking the two drinks over. His nose was busted and bleeding. Eyes widening in recognition he couldn't do anything in retaliation as she was basically pinning him to the bar.

The steel grey of her eyes were filled with anger, she delivered another punch to the mans face. Being careful of you, she grabbed him by the collar with her human hand and a long blade slid out from her prosthetic. "What the fuck is wrong with you," Her usually smoky voice was heavy.

The blade prodded at his neck.

A shrill cry came from the man as she dropped him onto the ground near your feet. She stomped on his back while he was down, shoe digging into his back. You could hear a bone crunch under Sevika's foot. You flinched at this but you moved forward to push her off of the man. "Sevika that's enough," You spoke, panicked.

She growled and whipped her head around to you, you could hear the blade slide back into her arm as she gently (kind of) grabbed your shoulder, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes softened at the tear streak on your face. When she stepped towards you, the clink of coins was heard from the pouch on her belt. She got the money. Before the situation could escalate further, you pulled her to the double doors of the bar. "Crazy bitch!" The man yelled, his voice strained from the pain.

You could feel the resistance when you pulled her out of the establishment. She didn't want to leave. Cool air hitting your face as you opened the door. You stepped to the side and turned to her.

"Should have let me kill him," She quipped.

You couldn't tell if that was a joke or not. "No, im okay," you said, looking down at your shoes.

She pulled your face up with two fingers so she could look at your face. Gently touching your face with her mechanical hand (the one she almost killed that creep with), she frowned. "I shouldn't have made you leave."

You could see the small beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and the veins in her arm. The swell of her bicep flexed whilst she held your face.

"No, it's okay. It's his fault, not yours," You attempted to calm the woman down.

She shook her head and pulled her hand away to sweep it through her hair, her bloodied knuckles contrasted on her skin. "Lets go home, ill make it up to you."

She slung her mechanical arm over your shoulder, the way she did at the bar. But her poncho that covered her arm draped around your shoulders, shielding you from the frosty air.

Leaning into her touch, you hummed, liking the sound of home.

this one is a little shorter than my usual ! but i hope you liked it anyway all feeback is appreciated !! and asks are always open, if i havent gotten to yours yet dw im making my way up !

#sevika arcane x reader #arcane #arcane sevika #lesbian #sevika #sevika x reader #wlw #sapphic #sevika arcane #i love sevika #arcane netflix #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane league of legends #arcane season two #arcane fanfic

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starryjake · 2 months ago

Text

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

#enhypen #kpop #kpop smut #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sim jake smut #jake sim smut #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jake #sim jake x reader #enhypen jake #jake smut

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shybluebirdninja · 2 months ago

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Clawsome Dad

Summary: When Logan mistakenly thinks you’re pregnant (you're not), he gets way too excited about baby names and starts building a baby-proof bunker in the backyard.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader

Note : fluff

It all started with Logan catching you looking at a baby onesie at the store—once. You didn’t even touch the thing, just smiled at it for like, two seconds before moving on to the checkout. But that was enough for Logan. His superhuman reflexes missed nothing. You hadn’t even gotten through the door before he had this weird look on his face—half intense, half like he was about to tear through the drywall with his claws.

“Babe?” he asked, voice low, as if he were interrogating a witness. “Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You blinked at him, setting down the groceries. “Uh… no?”

Logan stepped closer, sniffing the air around you. You rolled your eyes. This man and his feral senses. “You’re sure? Nothin’... different?” he pressed, like he was waiting for you to drop some major bombshell.

“I’m sure, Logan. What’s with the third degree? Did I do something?” you asked, confused.

Then it hit you. His eyes flickered to your stomach, and you nearly choked.

Oh hell no.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you held up your hand, waving off the insanity that was clearly brewing in his head. “I am not pregnant.”

Logan frowned, not entirely convinced. “But you were lookin’ at that baby crap in the store—”

“I looked at a onesie for two seconds, Logan! It was cute, that’s all! Doesn’t mean I’m knockin’ out kids tomorrow!” you laughed, but the man didn’t seem amused.

“No baby?” he repeated, brows knitting together like he wasn’t entirely sure you knew how your own body worked.

“NO baby, Logan. Geez,” you reiterated, shaking your head, but the damage was already done.

Over the next couple of days, things got weird. He started acting real strange—asking you about baby names out of nowhere while you were brushing your teeth.

“Thoughts on ‘James Jr.’?” he muttered casually, mid-toothbrush stroke.

You spat out toothpaste, staring at him through the mirror. “James Jr.? Are you serious?”

Logan shrugged. “Seems practical. What, you don’t like it?”

“I—Logan, we are not naming a non-existent kid right now. Where’s this comin’ from?” You were barely containing your laughter. The man could take down an entire squad of bad guys without breaking a sweat, but the idea of potential parenthood had him spiraling into this dad mode that was both terrifying and hilarious.

The worst of it came when you caught him in the backyard, shirtless, sweat dripping, hammering away at something… with adamantium claws fully out. It was definitely not a normal Saturday activity, even for Logan.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, hands on your hips as you watched him drive metal sheets into the ground like a crazed man.

“Buildin’ a bunker,” he replied gruffly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“A what?”

“A baby-proof bunker. Ain’t no kid of mine growin’ up in a death trap house,” Logan muttered, slamming another panel into place. “This world’s dangerous, and that’s just the neighbors.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You—what? Baby-proof… Logan, we don’t even have a baby.”

Logan stopped hammering for a second, looking at you like you were the one missing something here. “But we might, right? Gotta be prepared.”

You slapped your forehead, trying not to lose it. “Prepared for what? An apocalypse where the baby needs a bunker to survive? Babe, seriously, there’s no baby. You don’t need to go full Rambo on the backyard.”

“I’m always prepared,” he grumbled, but there was a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t ready to back down, though. Logan was never the type to half-ass anything—especially not something he deemed necessary.

By now, the neighbors had definitely noticed. Old Mrs. Jenkins from next door was peeking over the fence with a terrified expression. She whispered something about Logan being a “madman,” which wasn’t entirely untrue in this case.

You sighed, walking up to him and grabbing the hammer from his hand. “Alright, Mr. Clawhammer, we’re done here. Come inside before you scare the rest of the neighborhood.”

Logan hesitated, claws still out. “But—”

“No buts, babe. Unless you’re ready to explain to Mrs. Jenkins why you’re preparing for baby Armageddon, you’re gonna stop now,” you said firmly, dragging him toward the house. “I swear, the last thing we need is for someone to call the cops on your baby-proofing bunker. We’re not even pregnant!”

He let out a gruff noise, retracting his claws with a reluctant snikt. “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked, still looking unconvinced as you pushed him through the door.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Yes, I’m sure. But if I ever do get pregnant, I’m not raising a kid in a damn underground fortress like we’re in some post-apocalyptic wasteland, got it?”

Logan smirked, the edge of his grumpy attitude softening. “Fine, no bunker. But I ain’t changin’ my mind on James Jr.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a cocky grin.

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mrsstarkey1 · 3 months ago

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could be different - rafe cameron

a/n: new obx season ik thats righttt

// for the sake of story, sophia does not exist ! love her tho xo

// also so rusty guys if this is dogshit just tell me

summary: after the turtle incident at the beach, you have an unexpected conversation with rafe cameron

word count: 1.9k

obx masterlist

••

you stared out at the ocean, the waves rolling in steady and perfect. today felt different—like everything was lined up just right, the surf calling you louder than usual.

“yo, grab your board, let’s go,” jj said, practically bouncing with excitement.

you smiled and grabbed your hot pink surfboard from the sand, ready to join them in the water. just as you were about to run in, the low rumble of trucks caught your attention. three of them pulled onto the beach, kicking up sand. you already knew who it was.

being a former kook, you had a low tolerance for topper and kelce. rafe was another story—complicated—but you wouldn’t exactly call him your favorite person either.

the trucks drove by obnoxiously, the engines roaring louder than they needed to. you silently hoped they’d keep going. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” kie muttered beside you.

of course, topper’s truck swerved back around, kicking up more sand as it came to a stop. you sighed, hanging your head. this wasn’t going to end well.

topper strutted over to john b like he owned the beach, and the inevitable showdown started. you stayed back, sitting on the sand with your sunglasses on, doing your best to act like you didn’t care. you’d stopped getting involved in this pogue vs kook mess a long time ago. it only ever led to frustration.

your gaze drifted across the beach, settling—unintentionally—on rafe cameron. arguably the most annoying guy in north carolina. arrogant, reckless, always looking for a fight.

but hot damn was he fine.

you hoped your sunglasses hid your staring, but rafe’s eyes found yours anyway. for a moment, your gazes locked, tension hanging in the air. you forced yourself to look away, heart picking up its pace despite your best efforts.

rafe was bad news nowadays and you knew it. but no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, something always pulled you in.

jj’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “what are we all still standing around for? lets fucking surf!”

you catch a few waves, wiping out on the last one—not a bad fall, but enough to call it a day. you lug your board up to shore, tossing it down by your towel.

for a while, you lie back, soaking up the sun, drifting off in your own thoughts, completely unaware that rafe’s been watching you from across the beach.

later, as everyone’s packing the boards into the twinkie, the day feels like a huge success. kie slips the last board into place, and you all start piling into the van.

“guys,” kie suddenly exclaims, her voice high with excitement, “there’s a turtle hatch!”

you gasp and jump out of the van immediately, your eyes wide with excitement. together, you watch as dozens of baby turtles start their journey toward the sea, crawling through the sand.

“they’re so cute,” you smile, watching them with an almost childlike awe.

“so tiny,” sarah whispers, a grin spreading across her face.

“we gotta make a path for them,” john b says, already moving toward the turtles, clearing a way.

“yeah, turtle highway,” jj jokes, making you laugh as the group works together to make sure the turtles have a safe journey to the water.

but just as things feel perfect, you hear the distant rumble of an engine. your head whips around, spotting a truck tearing down the beach—straight toward you and the turtles.

“hey!” you scream, waving your arms wildly, trying to get their attention.

panic flashes through your group, everyone shouting and waving their arms, trying to make the truck stop.

“stop! there’s a hatch!” kie yells, her voice desperate.

the truck doesn’t slow down. if anything, it speeds up. your heart leaps into your throat as it barrels toward kie, who jumps out of the way at the last possible second.

“what the fuck?” you shout, your pulse racing.

the truck spins in the sand, kicking up dust and revving its engine. then, as if mocking you, someone throws a drink out the window, the liquid drenching you and kie.

“are you guys okay?” sarah rushes over, her face pale.

you nod, too angry to form words. kie runs to check on the turtles, kneeling down in the sand. her voice cracks as she picks up one of the tiny creatures, now lifeless. “no…”

you’re sick to your stomach. they think they own this place, think they can do whatever they want. but almost hitting kie? killing a defenseless baby turtle?

you take the turtle from kie, your hands practically trembling with rage. “what are you doing?” sarah asks, concern lacing her voice.

“enough is enough,” you mutter, storming across the beach.

jj trails behind loosely, always ready for confrontation.

“really, top?” you shout when you’re close enough, making the kooks turn toward you. “you almost killed kie. you feel good about that? still got that dumbass grin on your face?”

they all look at each other, unsure of how to react. topper shifts uncomfortably, trying to play it cool. “look, y/n, i get it—”

“no, you don’t,” you cut him off, holding up the tiny turtle for all of them to see. “look what you did.”

the group looks away, unable to face the damage they’ve caused.

“no, look at it,” you snap. “there was a turtle hatch, and you ran right over it. do you seriously think this is okay?”

no one answers.

ruthie speaks up, an obnoxious smile on her face. “it’s just one turtle. there’s like, a hundred of them.”

you whip your head toward her, fighting the urge to slap her, “yeah? why don’t i run you over with a truck then? there’s like a thousand bitchy kooks, right?”

topper scoffs, looking you up and down. “i don’t know why you’re acting all high and mighty, y/n. you’re just a wannabe pogue now, but deep down? you’ll always be one of us. a spoiled kook pretending to fit in.”

his words hit harder than you’d care to admit. you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, rafe steps forward, jaw clenched.

“top, shut up.”

topper looks at rafe, surprised. “what, man? i’m just telling the truth.”

“let’s just go. not worth it,” rafe mutters, his voice low, turning away from the group.

you lock eyes with rafe for a brief second, your anger still simmering, but his quiet apology lingers in your mind. “just stay the fuck away from us,” you snap before turning on your heel, heading back to your friends.

even as you leave the scene behind, the interaction stays with you. topper’s words. rafe stepping in. it all plays on a loop in your mind, like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

the rest of the pogues decide to head back to meet pope, but you tell them you need some space, some time alone. the beach feels quieter now, just the waves and a few stragglers as the sun begins to set on the water.

you’re watching the water intently when a voice comes from behind you, “hey.”

you nearly jump, your heart pounding as you turn around. it’s rafe, standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, a cautious look on his face.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice softer than usual. he glances at the ground for a second before looking back at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “look, um, about earlier…”

you cross your arms, your guard still up, but the way he’s standing there, almost unsure of himself, catches you off guard. rafe never looks unsure.

“the turtles, that was fucked,” he continues, his voice low. “i should’ve stopped it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “but you didn’t.”

“yeah.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t respond right away, the tension between you thick in the air. you can tell he’s waiting for something—for you to lash out, or maybe just get up and walk away. but for some reason, you stay. “you can sit, if you want,” you say.

he hesitates, and you think for a moment that he’ll just walk away. but no, he plops himself down right next to you.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, and to your surprise it’s not awkward silence. it’s comfortable. it reminds you of years ago when you considered rafe a friend.

what you say next shocks yourself, “i’m sorry about your dad, rafe. we haven’t really um- talked, since then.”

his eyes shoot over to you, clearly also surprised by your words. he clears his throat, “thanks,” he says softly, looking back out into the ocean.

you stare at him, taking in his features now that he’s sitting so close. the hard edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something softer. his eyes, normally sharp and guarded, are distant as they reflect the fading sunlight, a mix of blue and gray that you hadn’t noticed before. his jaw clenches, then relaxes, as if he’s holding back words he doesn’t quite know how to say.

“i didn’t really expect you to say that,” he admits, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of the waves.

“i didn’t expect to say it,” you reply, offering a small, unsure smile.

rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you now with an intensity that makes your heart skip. the cool, cocky demeanor you’re used to isn’t there. instead, he looks… real. vulnerable, even.

“you always were different from the rest of them,” he murmurs, as if to himself, his gaze lingering on your face. the compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget the mess of emotions surrounding everything that’s happened.

the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. it feels like a thread connecting you both to a time before everything got complicated.

without really thinking, you reach over, your hand brushing against his. it’s subtle, just a light touch, but it’s enough. his hand turns over, palm up, and for the briefest second, you let your fingers rest there, feeling the warmth of his skin.

he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “thanks for letting me sit,” he says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. you nod, words failing you for once.

you stare at him again; the sun catches in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that feels out of place, and you realize how easy it would be to fall into this moment, to let the history between you blur everything else.

but you know you can’t.

“you know,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, “my loyalty is always gonna be with the pogues.” you meet his gaze, making sure he knows you mean it. “that’s never gonna change.”

rafe looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he nods, like he expected it but still needed to hear it. “yeah, i know,” he mutters, glancing down at where your fingers are still lightly brushing his hand. he doesn’t pull away, though. “doesn’t mean we can’t sit here and talk, right?”

you smile faintly, appreciating the honesty, the way he didn’t try to change your mind or make you feel like you had to choose between him and the people you care about. “no, it doesn’t.”

for a second, his face softens even more, like the weight of the world has been lifted, just for this fleeting moment between the two of you. and despite everything—despite the kooks and pogues, the drama and the history—sitting here next to him, watching the waves in comfortable silence, feels right in a way you can’t quite explain.

you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, rafe could be changing for the better.

••

requests are open 📩

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jaylalolz · 3 months ago

Text

❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜ p2 . . . charlie mayhew

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

PART 1

SUMMARY, after ignoring charlie for a week after the incident, he finally gets her close in the bathroom.

A/N, sorry i took way too long to make a p2. if you want a p3, leave some recommendations of what i should do for that part in my inbox bc i have no idea how to keep it going 😂 anyways, have fun reading, angels. 🪽🪽

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

Charlie had noticed the change immediately after their last conversation—the one where Maddy had admitted, with a tremble in her voice, that she had thought about him in ways she knew weren’t right. He had been shocked, then flattered, and finally, filled with guilt after everything. But what troubled him the most was her absence.

For a whole week, Maddy hadn’t spoken to him. She didn’t show up at mass, didn’t linger after church like she usually did. Every time he tried to reach out, she brushed him off with curt messages or avoided him entirely. She wasn’t just distant—she was actively ignoring him.

At first, Charlie tried to give her space, assuming that she needed time to process what had happened between them. But as the days passed, his concern grew. The gnawing guilt inside him—the feeling that maybe he had crossed a line, that maybe he had hurt her more than he realized—began to fester.

It wasn’t until late one evening, after most of the congregation had already left, that Charlie spotted her. Maddy, rushing down the hallway, her face flushed, disappeared into the restroom. The church was quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading, and Charlie hesitated for a moment before following her.

He knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Maddy?”

There was no response, but he heard a faint sniffle, the kind that comes after holding back tears for too long. Charlie’s heart clenched. He hesitated, not wanting to invade her space, but the sound of her pain pushed him forward.

“Maddy, please talk to me,” he said gently. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

There was a long pause, and then the door cracked open. Maddy stood there, her eyes red and puffy, but there was something hardened in her expression. She looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally.

“Why do you care so much, Charlie?” she asked, her voice thick with frustration and hurt. “I’m trying to keep my distance, like I’m supposed to. Isn’t that what you want?”

Charlie frowned, stepping closer. “What I want is to understand why you’ve been avoiding me. After everything we talked about, I thought we could work through this together, but you’ve been shutting me out completely.”

Maddy let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Work through this? Charlie, you don’t get it. I’m embarrassed. I told you something I never should have said, something unholy, we did something for which I will never be forgiven. And every time I look at you, I see the judgment in your eyes.”

Charlie’s breath caught in his throat, realizing the depth of her shame. “Maddy, no,” he said, stepping toward her, his voice softening. “There’s no judgment. I promise you that.”

“Then why does it feel like there’s a wall between us now?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Why did it feel like I crossed a line that I can’t uncross?”

Charlie closed his eyes, fighting the turmoil in his chest. He had wrestled with his own guilt all week, and now hearing hers, it was clear they were both lost in their own pain. He opened his eyes and met hers, his gaze steady.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “What you told me… it was honest. I do not regret what we did together, i am not ashamed of it.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any hint of dishonesty. When she didn’t find it, she exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“So, why does it matter so much, Charlie? Why did we both make it feel like the end of the world?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath. “Because it’s hard, Maddy. It’s hard to admit that something’s there, something we both feel but can’t have. It’s hard because I want to help you through this, but I also… I’m fighting the same thoughts, the same distractions.” His confession hung in the air between them, heavy and real.

Maddy’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “You mean…?”

Charlie nodded, looking down. “I’m not immune to this. But I’m trying to stay strong for both of us. And ignoring me won’t make it go away. We have to figure out how to deal with this together.”

Maddy wiped at her eyes again, this time with less urgency, as if the weight of their shared secret had lightened slightly. “I don’t know how to make it stop,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Neither do I,” Charlie said quietly. “But I can help you, Angel.”

He stepped closer to her, trapping her exit from the restroom. His fingers interlocks with her hair as he pulls a strand behind her ear and grabbed her face and pulled her closer. “Tell me you don’t regret it, please” he says eagerly as he places his forehead on hers.

“Just Let me worship you”

Her head spins from the thousands of negative possibilities but her body just wants to surrender to him.

Without kissing her, he trailed his lips up her curve and exhaled till the heat tingled sensuously across her delicate skin. She closed her eyes, sensing his hands running up her sides over her white button-up blouse. He clasped his hands over the cloth, tracing a line up her hips and down the sides of her chest before finishing at the collar of the weightless material.

He made two hard fists out of the blouse collar and tore it open causing her to gasp in shock as the shirt split open to reveal her white lacy bra.

He turned to face her and grabbed her hips once again, the moment the door was locked. Before her thoughts could register, his lips dropped hungrily to her neck and her back collided with the wall. He brushed his teeth on her flesh right away, pressing his body against her while groaning.

Her hands instinctively gripped his hips, tossing her head to one side. They kissed for a long time, his sensual lips breathing heavily into her neck in between, making her eyes drift close. He thrust forward, bringing his hips to meet hers, offering whatever kind of pleasure he could. Her hands clenched around his hips over his pants, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.His hands trailed down her nude thighs, extending to her behind to seize it above the dress. He pulls her hips against his harder.

"I can't wait to take this dress off you." He graveled.

His words cause her core to ache and she arched her back further off the wall to feel his body against her even more. He takes the motion and decides to just pick her up instead. His hand reaches behind her thighs, where he raises her and surrounds her weak legs around his hips. Her back against the wall as their hips collided, she took a deep breath at the abrupt change.Now at eye level with her, he planted a kiss on her jaw and positioned himself between her legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held him in place. She felt weak as a result of his forceful hip thrust between her legs.

She dug her hands into his hair and let out a cry through a pant. When she pulled it, he gave a grunt. He clamped down harder on her neck, and in response, she let out an uncontrollable whine.

He tightly clamped his teeth into a single area, creating such strong suction that she was certain it would leave a mark. She almost lost consciousness when she separated her lips in response to her aggressive action, arching her back. Feeling him rough on the pale skin, she reflexively jerked her hand to the back of his head. She got mild pain spikes with it, but other than that, it was enjoyable.

She pulled at the roots above his neck, and he whispered into her neck. She knew immediately that he enjoyed it when she yanked his hair. His moan provided the necessary stimulation between her legs. He drags out every motion so that she begs him to keep going.

With her bra and panties on, she arched her back, feeling the tight fit of his jeans pressing on her inner part. she could feel how hard he was becoming quickly, he was absolutely bottled up in those tight jeans. Suddenly, he sets her down on her two feet and goes on his knees. He lanced down at her stomach, licking his lower lip with his tongue before lowering his head to give her abdomen a moist kiss. Her whole body trembled at the light touch.

He reached her panties and raised his head, gazing up into her eyes all the way up her body. Grabbing the edges of her lace panties, he sits up between her legs and pulls it up off her hips and down her thighs right away. She tensed slightly as he took off the final piece of material covering her body. She raised her legs into the air and he pulled the thin material away from her ankles.

He tossed the last piece of clothing to the floor, leaving her completely vulnerable. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. we don’t want anyone to hear you”

Just by feeling his tongue running up her center, her stomach lurched and her entire body flexed. He forced his mouth against her tightly and rolled his tongue straight to the cluster of nerves before she could even begin to grasp the strange sensation of his sharp tongue sliding up her slit. "Charlie-" her back curved off the wall before she could even complete her statement.

Without holding back, he went straight into her clit with a wonderful rhythmic roll of his tongue. Her eyes narrowed as she closed them.

Her hips twitched with the intensity of this wild new feeling right away. "Charlie, oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes inside her head. He maintained a death grip on her thighs, keeping them forced open to give him complete access to enjoy her in any way he pleased. She was unable to regulate her sensitivity, and it would make her body twitch.

His wet tongue rolled in the perfect place at different rhythms and at a steady pace, making her experience things She have never felt in her entire life. He just started, and she was unable to catch her breath.Her hands would be death grasping his thick hair right now if she could control them.

He placed her legs over his shoulders, reaching lower and squeezing a firm grasp around her outer thighs and hip bones. With a deep inhale through his nose, he caressed her with his tongue, sending a surge of ecstasy up her neck and into her veins. With a moan, she chokes and throws back her head, putting her legs across his long back.

She wasn't prepared for the kind of pleasure he gave her when he slid his lengthy tongue inside of her and ran it down. He was an expert at what he was doing and was doing it very well. Then the knot in her stomach turned to give her trembling thighs. Before returning to her clit, which she could now feel pulsating, he slid his tongue in and out of her a few times. The pressure burning inside of her intensified as soon as he made touch with it once more.

She flinches and draws in a short breath as he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down on the bundle of nerves. "I need it so bad.. charlie..." She could not be silent in the room; she was a mess of heavy pants. She was unable to stop herself from breathing heavily and was always accompanied by whimpers and whines that were concealed in the back of her throat.

He looks down between them, his ring and middle fingers digging deep into her. He instantly coiled and shoved them at the same moment, making her gasp. She was taken aback by the furious action. He was panting as well, so she arched her back and let out a whimper into the thick air. The two fingers he didn't have rings on, his fingers rocked into her mercilessly.

She let out a cry, tightly clenching her eyelids and contorting her hips. He coiled up and compressed his fingers, striking a sensitive area within her which she had no idea contained so many nerve endings."You're so fucking tight-" In his deep voice, he whispered.

Her legs trembled as she yelled out, “please." "Does that feel good?" He rasps into the burning air while simultaneously caressing her clit with his fingers. Shutting her eyes tightly, she gave a nod. Her stomach felt like it was about to burst; there were no words to express the feelings she was experiencing.

"Do you feel that knot in your stomach, Angel?" He whispered, reading her thoughts.

She groaned and nodded once more, her chest heaving in a need for breath. "Use your words." More forcefully, he remarks, It was so difficult to focus on anything other than the euphoric rush coursing through her blood. “Y-yes." was her stutter.

"I'm adding a third." Before striking a third finger into her, he muttered. She let out a gasp as he pushed past the line, his third finger descending in unison with the other two. She let out a cry, her back automatically arching off the wall.

"Oh my god!" The pressure between her hips immediately increased as the third finger was thrust in, causing her to cry. her body came out in another sweat, her hips suddenly having a mind of their own when they bucked.

He glanced up at her face, saw how shaken she was getting, her legs trembling with her inability to remain silent. He pulled his hand away from her clit and instead brought it up to cover her lips because she was extremely loud. When the build started to get more tense, he began to shove his three fingers deep into her.

"Everyone is right next door." He smirks.

"You can yell into my hand."

With her eyes squeezed shut, she yelled into his big palm that was placed across her mouth. Her back continued to arch off the wall as the condition grew progressively deeper. She felt as though she were on a cloud and was at a loss for words regarding what was occurring to her body.

"Cum for me baby-" He encouraged, drawing his eyes into hers. He knew she was close.

She whimpered into his fingers, her body's gears shifting like a moving train. Her thighs trembled as though she was freezing, her stomach was drawn in, and her chest pumped fiercely. She kept screaming into his palm at the crushing strain that was killing her, and his fingers kept jamming into the same area.

Her entire body was tight; she was too weak to continue in this state for very long. She let out his muffled name in a scream and then abruptly stopped moving. Everything—shaking, arching, breathing—stopped abruptly.

She undid herself on his fingers. She moans at the feeling of emptiness as he pulls away. He puts a kiss on her forehead and adds, "I knew you would be such a good girl for me." She was still trembling from what had happened, so he gently placed her clothing and underwear on her.

She slid to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. The shame she felt was suffocating, wrapping itself around her until she could barely breathe.

“Maddy,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice broken. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why i’m crying”

Charlie was kneeling beside her before she could finish, his hands gentle as he reached for her. “Maddy, stop,” he murmured. “You don’t have to apologize”

She shook her head, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “It feels wrong, Charlie. All of this. I feel guilty for even wanting this.”

Charlie sighed, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “I know. I feel it too. But guilt isn’t going to help either of us right now. We need to be honest with ourselves about what’s happening, and we need to figure out how to move forward.”

Charlie’s thumb gently wiped away one of her tears, his touch comforting but careful.

Maddy closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, even though part of her knew they shouldn’t be this close. But in this moment, she needed the comfort, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this guilt. That they would find a way through it, together.

#nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #smut #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

Text

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk.

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity.

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words.

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death.

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile,

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it.

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box.

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you.

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled.

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff.

“Fuck me!” He shouted.

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped,

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder.

“You alright?” You asked him.

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale.

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry.

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together.

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs.

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered.

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand.

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours.

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations.

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply.

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it.

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment,

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you.

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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simplyholl · 19 days ago

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Home For Christmas

Summary: When your mom puts pressure on you to bring a boyfriend home for Christmas, you turn to Bucky for help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Southern F. Reader

Warnings: Reader is Southern. Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Fake dating. Maybe a little blasphemous? Fingering in a church. Getting fucked by a peppermint stick.

*A/N: I am Southern. I couldn’t get the idea of bringing Bucky home to the South for Christmas out of my head so this was born. Sorry if this is shit. I’m just getting back into writing again.

Mammaw = grandma

Pappaw = grandpa

^^ this is the peppermint sticks I’m talking about in the fic. I don’t know what they are really called.

See My Masterlist Here

The compound was bustling with Avengers and employees getting ready for the holidays. Everyone was going home or leaving with another member of the team. Everyone except for Bucky. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time.

He is a grumpy asshole usually, so you just avoided him. You didn’t blame him for his behavior, you’d be the same if you were tortured and brainwashed by Hydra for decades. But the thought of him being alone in the huge, empty walls of the Avenger Compound pulled at your heartstrings. You couldn't leave without extending an invitation to him. There was an ulterior motive too. You were nice but he was a lot to deal with. He was sitting alone in the common room, reading a book when you approach him.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" You ask, looking a little weary as you walk towards him. He raises an eyebrow, locating his bookmark and placing it inside his book as he closes it. "So I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I couldn't leave without asking. Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?" Bucky's eyebrows furrow together as he looks at you. "You're serious?" He asks, resting his chin on his fist.

You nod your head, waiting for his answer. "Why would I want to do that?" It was a fair question; one you had even expected. "I just thought you might want to have some company, have a home cooked meal. Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone." He looks at you suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

You bite your lip, damn he was good at reading you. “Okay, you got me. So my momma has been hounding me about finding a nice man and settling down. Which is crazy. I’m an Avenger and that’s not enough for her. But she is dead set on grand babies and planning a wedding. So I might have lied and told her I had a boyfriend to get her off my back. I also might have told her I’d be bringing him home with me. So, if you come with me maybe you could help me out and pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Bucky laughs, a low gutteral sound escaping him. “No way in hell, princess.” He smirks. “I’ll stay here, order takeout, and get a break from all of you idiots. Why would I want to go home with you and play the part of your doting boyfriend? We barely talk.” You sigh. He made a good point. And if the shoe was on the other foot, you wouldn’t want to help him either.

But you were desperate. You didn’t want to disappoint your mom. She was really excited that you had a serious boyfriend. So you sink to your knees in front of Bucky, putting on the biggest pouty face you could muster. You bat your eyelashes and try to work up a few tears, but they wouldn’t come. “Please Bucky, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You look into his blue eyes hoping this would work. There had to be something he wanted. Then you saw it, a little flicker of something in his eyes. “Anything?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. Name it and it’s yours. I’ll do your laundry for a month. I’ll scrub your suit after missions. I’ll cook all your meals. Whatever you want.”

Bucky smiles wolfishly at you, his flesh hand coming up to your face. He cups your cheek, looking into your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your lips. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip as he holds his gaze on you. “So I go home with you, spend Christmas with your family and pretend I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes, my very serious boyfriend who could pop the question at any time.” I add making sure he knew what I expected. “Fine, I’ll do it.” You look a little surprised but quickly hide it. You thought it would take more convincing. “But I want boyfriend privileges.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, a confused expression on your face. “It means if I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend I get to enjoy everything a boyfriend would, including having sex with you.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “You want to have sex with me? You don’t even like me.”

“You’re right. But I want you. If you want me to play the part then that’s my condition.” You don’t have to think about it, not really. You have eyes. Bucky is a handsome man. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sleep with him too. But you didn’t want him to know you were eager so you pretended like you were thinking about his offer. Instead you were thinking about his metal hand wrapped around your throat. “Deal.” You stick your hand out to him and he shakes it.

You were an idiot. That was the only explanation you had. You were five hours into a ten and a half hour car ride. The gps kept adding minutes to the trip and traffic was crazy. You should have booked a flight, but you wanted to drive. Now, you were dealing with an aggravated super soldier who was cussing the other drivers on the interstate. You didn’t dare complain when he went over the speed limit or when he gave the finger as he was passing another car. But you did sneak glances every few seconds at him.

He was so hot all riled up like this. The blue vein in his neck throbbing, the wild look in his eyes, the death grip he had on the steering wheel. You had to hold yourself back from offering to blow him right here in the car.

The trip down south was long and almost torturous. When Bucky wasn’t yelling at the other drivers, he was fighting with you. But you survived. When you see the big sign welcoming you to your home state, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You point out all your old hang outs, telling Bucky stories about your childhood as you drove through your town. Finally, he pulls into your driveway. Your Mom’s, Mammaw’s, and Aunt’s houses were all decorated for Christmas. You loved that they were all neighbors. Most of your family lives pretty close by.

You get out of the car, letting the cool air hit you. You take in your surroundings. The trees were bare from shedding their leaves but it was still beautiful here. Bucky gets out doing the same. You both carry your bags to your old childhood bedroom that your mom had set up to accommodate the two of you. You give Bucky a tour since nobody was home. He stops to look at the big Christmas tree with presents underneath. He looks at the ornaments, turning over one you had made in Sunday School when you were a little girl. He looks like he is about to make some smart ass remark when he freezes.

His eyes land on something and you follow his gaze to the stockings your mom hung up. They were all red velvet with your family’s names embroidered in gold cursive on them. They were all filled to the brim, some candy poking out of the top. Bucky touches one gently, a look of disbelief on his face. Then you see it too. Your mom had gotten him a stocking. It was hung right beside yours. And in the same gold letters as everyone else’s, ‘Bucky’ was on it and it was overflowing more than the others.

“I’ve never had a stocking like this.” He admits quietly. “We were poor and my ma just got us oranges and apples. She would bake a cake and we might get one gift . A toy gun for me, a doll for my sister. Nothing like this.” You grab his flesh hand, rubbing your thumb along the top of it. You’re interrupted when your mom comes in. Her eagle eyes on your hand in Bucky’s, a huge smile on her face.

You run to her, giving her a big hug. “Momma, this is my boyfriend, Bucky.” You gesture to him, and he walks over shaking her hand. “I’m James Barnes, ma’am. But you can call me Bucky.” He flashes her a huge smile and she blushes. You roll your eyes. He was really laying it on thick.

After you caught up with her and Bucky answered all of her questions, you all go over to your Mammaw’s house. She was watching Bonanza on tv. She loves those old western shows. She and Bucky talked for ages about them. Apparently, he was a fan too. You and your mom carried in wood for her stove while he kept her company. “We are gonna have to borrow the neighbor’s wood splitter again. We have almost used up all her chopped wood.” Your mom tells you.

“I can split it.” Bucky offers. You give him a surprised look. “You will?” He nods his head. “Just show me where everything is. I’ll take care of it.” You shrug and take him outside. Showing him where he can bust the wood. You give him a an axe and some old work gloves before heading inside to watch westerns.

After an hour, you go outside to check on him and bring him some water. When you go back in, you find your mom and Mammaw at the window giggling like school girls. “What?” You ask. Your mom motions you over and you look out the window just in time to see Bucky take his black henley off. His muscles are slick with sweat. He swings the axe down forcefully and the muscles in his back move sinfully. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

You hear your Mammaw gasp as he continues chopping the wood. Your mom pats you on the back, “You did great, honey.” You giggle, actually giggle. You can’t help it. He looks incredible and you’re glad he came up with the whole sex idea or else you would put your pride aside and beg him to fuck you. He busts the last piece, propping the axe up against the wood pile and heading toward the house. You’ve never seen your Mammaw run so fast to get back in her rocking chair.

You take Bucky to visit your Pappaw. He showed him his gun collection. Which you think was his way of threatening him. Your pappaw sends you out to get lunch for everyone, but keeps Bucky there with him. You’d love to be a fly on the wall. Pappaw is probably giving him the whole ‘what are your intentions with my granddaughter’ talk. When you left, he shook Bucky’s hand and told you he was a fine young man. So their talk must have went well.

The next night, you and Bucky were going with your mom to watch the church Christmas program. That was one thing about your mom, she raised you to be a Southern Baptist and you were expected to go to church if you were home. This time was no different. You put on a long sleeve dress, fix your hair, and put on a little mascara. Bucky is wearing dark jeans and a long sleeve button up. Your sister, her boyfriend, your Mammaw and your Pappaw were all at the church too. They sat on your mom’s usual pew, three up from the back on the left side.

There wasn’t any room for you and Bucky so you sat behind them. The church was unusually full, but they were expecting a lot of people to come. That’s what happens when there’s a Christmas program and a dinner afterward. People loved free food. All the little old ladies you went to church with your whole life came over to gawk at Bucky.

They were giving him peppermints and hard candies from the bottoms of their pocket books. They were hugging him, and feeling his muscles. They all told you how good you had done in getting a man like him. They told him how handsome he was. They pinched his cheeks. And one even pretended like she needed help walking back to her pew. But you had seen her just moments ago running over to scold a child who was trying to stick his finger in the cake she baked for after the program. Bucky took her arm and led her to the front of the church. Her grip on his muscled arm tight the whole time.

Finally the choir started singing and the program begins. You shivered, regretting your decision to not wear tights. The temperature in the church varies. It was either freezing or you were sweating. You grab a blanket off the back of your mom’s pew and laid it on your lap. You scoot closer to Bucky, hoping his body heat would help.

The children get up to start their part of the program. Bucky lifts the blanket and puts it over his left side, his metal hand underneath it. Your breath hitches when you feel the cold metal of his hand on your bare thigh. You look at him questioningly. He smiles and winks then turns his attention back to the children singing. His hand moves higher until it stops at the edge of your panties. Your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his, a silent plea to stop.

He reaches over with his flesh hand and moves your hand away. He moves his cool fingers under your panties, sliding them against your center. He gathers your slick, bringing it up to your clit and swirling his vibranium thumb. You grip his thigh and try to pay attention to the program. He slides two fingers inside you and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that escapes you. You’ve never been more thankful for the kids’ loud off key singing.

You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you. Thankfully everyone is watching the program or taking pictures of the kids. You lay your head against his shoulder, making it look like you were cuddling your boyfriend enjoying the Christmas show. When you were really just trying to hide your face as it contorts in pleasure. Bucky’s fingers set a brutal pace as his cool thumb worked your clit. It was all too much. How he looked yesterday chopping the wood, how everyone loved him, the way he was taking you apart in the one place he absolutely shouldn’t. One more curl of his fingers and swipe to your clit and you were falling apart on Bucky’s fingers in church with your face buried in his shirt.

Finally your last day home arrived, Christmas Day. Your mom made a huge breakfast that your family came over to eat. Then you sat in front of the tree to open presents. You all started with your stockings. Truthfully, you were more excited to watch Bucky open his than to see what was in yours. He dumped it out. Candy, chocolates, candy canes, all kinds of treats spilled on the floor. Bucky’s whole face lit up in a smile. He had never looked more handsome.

He opened the gifts your mom got him, a couple shirts and a watch. He thanked her graciously. Then you hand him the gift you were eager to surprise him with. You ordered it online and had it shipped to your mom’s house and she wrapped it for you. He looks surprised as he opens it, a record player and some old records you had to pay an arm and a leg for. They were hard to find too. You asked Steve what music Bucky liked back in the day and you searched for days to find them on vinyl.

He pulls you in for a hug. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He whispers in your ear. You hold him tighter. The rest of the day is spent watching Christmas movies and eating cookies. Your mom set up a hot chocolate bar on the table with marshmallows, whip cream, sprinkles and peppermint sticks. It was a cute idea she got from Pinterest.

That night, you hug your mom goodnight as she heads to bed. You and Bucky stay up a little longer. Bucky was acting a little weird. He went out to the shed where your mom stored her Christmas decorations and he was being secretive. When you asked about it, he told you it was a surprise. So you stopped asking questions and tried to finish watching The Year Without A Santa Claus. When it was over, you went to your childhood bedroom where Bucky had been for a while.

“Can I come in yet?” You ask as you stick your head in the doorway. When Bucky nods, you shut and lock the door behind you. “Strip.” He commands. You don’t hesitate. You would walk on hot coals barefoot if he asked you to. You place all your clothes in a pile on the floor and stand bare before him. “Get on the bed.” He gestures with his vibranium finger. You lay down and watch as he pulls something out from under the bed. Old Christmas lights that your mom didn’t use this year.

Bucky must have been in here untangling them. He holds your wrists above your head and wraps the lights around them. Then he brings it down your arms and to your chest. He binds it around your breasts and over your stomach. You try to move your wrists, but it’s too tight. Not enough to hurt but maybe a little uncomfortable.

He stands at the foot of the bed admiring you. “Perfect.” He grabs the mug of peppermint sticks your mom had set out off the dresser, twirling one between his fingers. He lays on the bed between your legs pressing a kiss to inside your thigh. You feel his scruffy cheeks against your thighs and you shiver. He leans his head down and licks up your center. Bucky’s flesh hand grabs your thigh, spreading your legs wider.

He looks up at you from between your thighs. His blue eyes never leaving yours as he puts the peppermint stick in his mouth. He twirls it between his lips, getting it wet. He removes it with a plop, and he brings it down, sliding it inside you with ease. His warm tongue flicks your clit, the peppermint making it tingle.

You moan as he swirls his skilled muscle around you. Bucky works the peppermint stick slowly moving it in and out. Each time he puts it back inside you, he angles it to reach that spot that makes you see stars and your toes curl. He rolls his tongue over you as he pumps the peppermint stick faster.

You arch your back and try to get closer to him. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair while he tastes you. But you can’t move your arms because of the Christmas lights he tied you with. Bucky removes the peppermint stick and brings it to his mouth, sucking your arousal off it. He moans, looking in your eyes as he slurps you off it.

He lowers his head again, his now icy mouth closing around your clit. He sucks you between his lips, his tongue flicking against it gently. You writhe underneath him as he holds your hips down with his metal arm. He slides the peppermint stick back inside you as his lips tug your clit. He moans against you and that’s your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm crashes through you, wrecking you. Bucky keeps up the good work until your shuddering subsides.

The next morning, you both tell your family goodbye. Bucky packs all your belongings into the car and you start the long journey back to the compound. This time instead of yelling at the other drivers, Bucky holds your hand the whole way. “I can’t wait to come back next year.” He tells you with a huge smile on his face.

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wolvietxt · 4 months ago

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💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : argument, logan shouts at reader over something insignificant, hurt / comfort, ANGST, fluff, happy ending word count : 2.4k

logan had been on edge for weeks now. everything seemed to be going wrong, one thing after another. his mission plan was falling apart, charles was breathing down his neck, and it felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch a break. the stress was eating at him, wearing him down little by little until it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

you’d noticed the change in him - how he seemed quieter, more distant, his temper flaring up over the smallest things. you tried to help where you could, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him space when he needed it, but nothing seemed to work. logan was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

today had been the worst of all. logan’s day started with a series of frustrating conversations that left him feeling like he was running in circles. every task seemed to come with a new problem, and by the time he left work, he was fuming. his hands clenched into fists as he drove home, his mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. all he wanted was to come home, find some peace, and forget about the day. but even that was too much to ask.

when he walked through the door, he immediately noticed that the kitchen was spotless - so spotless, in fact, that his papers, the ones he’d left scattered across the table, were missing. he felt a surge of irritation. you had been on a cleaning spree, trying to make the house more comfortable for him, but in doing so, you’d moved around some of his blueprints. the ones he needed. the ones he hadn’t had time to organise properly.

“where are my papers?” logan’s voice was tight as he scanned the kitchen, looking for the documents that were now nowhere to be seen.

you looked up from where you were organising the bookshelf, smiling a little at him. “oh, i moved them to the study so you’d have more space. i thought - ”

“you thought?” logan cut you off, his voice rising. “why would you move my stuff without asking me?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “i just wanted to help. i know you’ve been stressed, and i thought having a clean space might - ”

“a clean space?” logan’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “i don’t need a clean space, i need my work to not be messed with! do you have any idea how much shit i’ve been dealing with lately? and now this - this is the last thing i need!”

he was shouting now, the frustration of the past few weeks boiling over. every little thing that had gone wrong, every setback, every sleepless night - it all came out in a torrent of anger directed at you.

“logan, i didn’t mean to make things worse…” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening. he was too far gone, too wrapped up in his own frustration to hear the hurt in your voice.

“you never think, do you? you just do whatever you want, and now i’m the one who has to deal with the consequences! i’m sick of this! i’m sick of everything always going wrong, and now you’re just adding to it!”

his words cut through you like a knife. you hadn’t meant to make things worse, you

were just trying to help, but the way he was yelling at you, the anger in his voice - it was too much. your chest tightened, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back.

“logan, please… i’m sorry, i just wanted to make things easier for you,” you said, your voice trembling.

“easier? easier for me?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, congratulations, because you’ve done the exact opposite! now i have to waste even more time finding everything you moved, and i’m already drowning here!”

the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over. you tried to wipe them away quickly, but logan was still shouting, too caught up in his own anger to notice.

“why can’t you just leave things the way they are? why do you always have to interfere? it’s like you don’t even care how much pressure i’m under! do you even care about anything besides what you want?”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, loud and broken, and it stopped logan in his tracks. the sound cut through his anger like a knife, and suddenly, the room was silent.

he stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. you were crying - no, you were sobbing, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. all the anger, all the frustration that had been driving him just moments ago, drained away, leaving him feeling hollow and ashamed.

“y/n…” he started, his voice shaky now, all the sharp edges gone. “shit, i didn’t mean…”

but you couldn’t stop crying, the weight of his words crashing down on you all at once. you hadn’t realised just how much stress he’d been under, how deeply it had been affecting him, and now it felt like you’d only made everything worse.

logan stepped closer, his hands reaching out, but he hesitated. he didn’t know how to fix this - how to take back the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. “hey, hey… please don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t… i didn’t mean any of that.”

his hands were trembling as he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. he could feel your sobs wracking your body, and it broke something inside him. how could he have been so blind? so stupid?

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m an idiot, and i let all this shit get to me, and i took it out on you. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you tried to calm down. his arms were strong around you, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. and maybe, in that moment, you were.

logan pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring apologies over and over, his voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry… please, y/n, don’t cry. i hate seeing you like this.”

you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood, but the words were stuck in your throat. instead, you just held onto him, letting him hold you, letting his presence calm the storm inside you.

it took a while for your sobs to finally subside, and when they did, you felt exhausted, like all the fight had been drained out of you. but logan didn’t let go - he just held you tighter, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away.

“i’ve been such a fucking mess lately,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “everything’s been going wrong, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i’ve been pushing you away, taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

you nodded against his chest, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “i just wanted to help… i hate seeing you like this. it feels like you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to bring you back.”

logan’s heart clenched at your words. he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had been affecting you, how much you’d been carrying on your own. he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, and he held you even tighter.

“y’re not losing me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. his thumb gently brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch soft, careful. “i promise you, you’re not losing me. i’ve just been so caught up in my own shit that i forgot what really matters.”

you searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words, and you found it there - clear and unwavering. he was still here, still the man you loved, even if he’d lost his way for a while.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice steady now, a promise in every word. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile forming on your lips. “yeah.”

logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he’d been holding back for weeks. “i love you so much. and i’m going to do better, i can fuckin’ promise you that, bub.”

you closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling the truth in them. you knew it wouldn’t be easy - logan was stubborn, and he had a lot to work through - but you also knew that he meant every word. he loved you, and that was enough.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady.

logan’s lips found yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of apologies and promises of love and commitment. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. logan smiled - a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, just holding each other, finding comfort in the closeness. the argument, the hurt, the tears - they were all still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming now. you both knew there was work to be done, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were on the same page, like you could actually do this.

when logan finally pulled away, he took your hand and led you to the couch, where the two of you sat down together. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.

“tell me what’s been going on,” you said softly, wanting to understand what had been eating at him for so long. “i want to help, logan. i don’t want you to go through this alone.”

logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “it’s just been one thing after another. work’s been a nightmare. nothing’s going right, and scott is on my case constantly. every day, it feels like i’m just… barely keeping my head above water. and then i come home, and i don’t want to burden you with all of this, but it’s just… it’s been too much.”

you listened quietly, letting him talk, letting him get it all out. you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the frustration, the weight he’d been carrying for so long. it broke your heart to know he’d been dealing with all of this on his own, and you hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten.

“logan,” you said softly when he finished, your voice filled with compassion. “you don’t have to carry this by yourself. i’m here, and i want to help. we’re a team, remember?”

logan nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the couch. “i know. i just… i didn’t want to unload all of this on you. i didn’t want to worry you.”

“but i was already worried,” you pointed out gently. “because i could see that something was wrong, and you weren’t talking to me about it. that’s what scared me the most - not knowing what was going on in your head.”

logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to shut you out. i just… didn’t know how to talk about it. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“logan, you don’t have to be perfect,” you said, your voice firm but loving. “i love you for who you are, flaws and all. and if you’re struggling, i want to know. i want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your skin. “but i’m so fucking grateful that you’re here.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “you deserve all the love in the world, logan. and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”

logan nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. he knew he was lucky to have you, and he was determined to do better - to be better. for you, and for himself.

the two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, really talking, about everything that had been weighing on logan’s mind. it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, and by the end of the night, you both felt a sense of relief that had been missing for far too long.

logan knew he still had a lot to work through, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone. you were by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way. and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

as you both drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, logan made a silent promise to himself: he would never take you for granted again. you were his rock, his safe haven, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

because at the end of the day, no matter how tough things got, you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t afford to lose. and he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, now and always.

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 6 months ago

Text

When They Give You the Silent Treatment as a Joke

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Bang Chan

Decides to give you the silent treatment as a joke, thinking it’ll be funny, since he saw it while scrolling through Instagram

Initially avoids making eye contact and gives only curt nods, completely engrossing himself in his work.

Notices you trying to get his attention but continues the act.

Feels a bit guilty but thinks you’ll laugh it off later.

Realizes the joke has gone too far when you start to tear up.

But he's too busy to notice you've actually started crying until Felix points it out.

Immediately drops the act and rushes to comfort you.

Apologizes profusely, explaining it was just a joke.

Holds you close and reassures you that he never meant to hurt you.

Promises to be more considerate in the future.

Spends extra time with you, making sure you’re okay. Completley forgetting about the work he was doing.

"Aw, baby I could never hate you. It was just a joke I saw it while looking for edits. I promise...you want to watch edits of me? ...But I'm right here?"

Lee Know

Thinks the silent treatment will be a harmless joke. He got the idea from Jisung.

Acts - for lack of better phrase - like an utter bitch.

Is so in character he doesn't notice the way you've started fidgeting anxiously.

Or the way your bottom lip has started to tremble.

Realizes the joke has gone too far when hears you begin to cry.

Breaks character immediately, apologizing - which is saying something since its Minho - and explaining it was a joke.

Pins the blame on Jisung.

Spends the day doing small acts of kindness to make it up to you.

Constantly checks on you to ensure you’re feeling better, since it seems you've distanced yourself.

Vows to never participate in such pranks again.

Gives you a long hug, whispering apologies - which is how you know he is regretful since he's apologized more than once.

"It was Jisung's ideas. I'm sorry. I promise I won't ever listen to any of Jisung's stupid ideas ever again jagiya..."

Changbin

Agrees to the prank since Felix had seen it on tiktok and thought it would be funny for both of them to do it since Felix was the second closest member to you besides your bf.

Keeps his distance and avoids talking to you, often just continuing conversations as if he hadn't heard you.

Feels a bit guilty but sticks to the prank.

Starts to worry when he sees you becoming increasingly upset.

Realizes the prank has gone too far when you start crying.

Immediately scoops you up into his arms and just lets you cry waiting for you to calm down

Felix is apologizing to you while he does this.

Takes the lead in making sure you know he’s genuinely sorry by clinging to you the rest of the day.

Talks 10x more than usual, ensuring you know he never meant to hurt you.

Brings you small gifts and treats to cheer you up.

Promises to communicate better in the future.

"I'm sorry baby...I was being dumb I promise I won't do that ever again."

Hyunjin

Thinks you'll act dramtically so he agrees.

Avoids interacting with you, keeping a straight face.

Is a bit confused when you just stalk off.

Starts to feel uneasy when you've been gone a while.

Realizes the prank has gone too far when he sees you crying alone.

He goes to sit next to you and apologize.

But now you're giving him the silent treatment.

Insists on talking it out with you.

Goes out of his way to do thoughtful things for you until you finally talk to him.

Frequently checks in on you to make sure you’re feeling better.

Promises to be more considerate in the future.

"Ya jagiiiiiiiiiiyyaaaaaaaa...talk to meeeeeeee...please? It was a joke. Jagiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

Han

A little skeptical at first since he thinks you'll be anxious and overthink since thats how he would react.

But after the guys show him a bunch of different and amusing reactions he concedes.

Finds it amusing at first

Feels a twinge of guilt when you start looking upset.

He gets extremely anxious seeing tap your knee and fidget.

Oh boy he see's your tears welling up.

Breaks down first, apologizing and explaining it was a joke before you even have a chance to start fully crying.

Tries to make you laugh with jokes and silly antics to cheer you up.

Clings to you like a spider monkey. He needs to be resting against you in some way shape or form.

Brings you little gifts and snacks as a way of saying sorry and to make himself feel a little better.

Oh the amount of kisses he is giving you just to make sure you know he is sorry and he loves you.

"Baby stop squirming. There is no such thing as too many kisses. Let me kiss youuuu!!!"

Felix

Hesitantly agrees to the prank, worried it might go too far.

Plays along, giving you the silent treatment but feeling guilty the entire time.

Starts to worry as you look more hurt and confused.

Realizes the prank has gone too far when you start crying.

He doesn't listen to the guys when they say to let it go on a bit longer.

Apologizes profusely.

Just lets you rest in his arms until you fall asleep and stays in the same position until you wake up from your sad boi hour nap.

Bakes your favorite treats as an apology.

For the rest of the day he makes sure he's always talking to you about something and explains it was a joke ever five minutes.

Acknowledges he thought it was a bad idea to begin with.

"I didn't want to. I hate seeing you sad, I'm sorry angel. If you forgive me than at least finish your brownie."

Seungmin

Agrees to the prank since he thinks you'll be able to handle it. And its not like he is the most talkative person; maybe you won't even notice.

Oh but you do notice. And this is making your already bad day even worse.

Keeps a straight face, giving you the cold shoulder.

Wonders slightly why you have haven't jokingly scolded or insulted him yet

Realized its because you're in the kitchen crying.

Breaks character, and gives you a hug.

Its not until you push him away does he apologize.

You're still a little upset, so he makes it up to you by taking you out on a date.

Tries to make it up to you with small acts of kindness throughout your date as well.

Only asks once or twice if you're still mad at him.

Realizes you're not when you lovingly insult him about something during your dinner.

Secretly promises to be more considerate in the future, because he doesn't want to verbalize that to you.

I probably shouldn't do this again...even if Y/N does look cute when they cry...

Jeongin

All of the members try to convince him not to do this prank.

Doesn't listen at all.

Avoids talking to you, keeping a straight face, even when you helplessly pull at his shirt sleeves.

Starts feeling guilty as you look more hurt, but it adamant about proving to his hyungs that he wasn't in the wrong for pulling this prank.

Realizes he was oh so wrong when he see's you clinging to Chan crying.

Chan is the one who makes I.N. apologize.

He apologizes immediately, and gets an earful from Minho who has a soft spot for you.

But now he feels so bad and doesn't feel like talking out of guilt and shame from being scolded.

So now the rest of the guys are cheering up both their babies.

Just pouts sadly while cuddling you.

Once you guys are back to normal you make him promise to listen to his hyungs.

"I promise I'll listen to them next time...but...wasn't it kinda nice for them to baby both of us?"

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

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@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

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@minsungsthirdwheel

#skz imagines #stray kids #skz stay #skz x reader #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz x gn reader #skz fluff

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